Tastes

Nose is corn, oak and alcohol; decidedly ‘meh’, but also not off-putting. Palate is better, and starts with oak and faint cedar spice leading to a quick blush of dark bitter cherries before fading to a pleasant numbness. Don’t get too carried away thinking this is the next Taters big discovery, because it’s not. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. But it is a very solid drink, and at under $15, pretty much unbeatable for an unchallenging, tasty bourbon. This has worked its way into my mixer rotation with Old Grand Dad BiB, Old Crow, Evan Williams and Jim Beam Pre-Prohibition Rye.

Nose smells like a pine forest on a chilly, drizzly day…there’s a little bit of wet bark mulch and a ton of pine and cedar. Palate is spicy, just a little hot, right on the edge of thin, and a bit of a letdown if I’m honest. It’s obviously an aged rye, but there’s nothing special about it, no wow-factor. The finish is cleanly numbing and does a good job of making you want another sip. Unfortunately, what I want is another sip of something else. I’ve had a few Whistle Pig single barrel and store picks, and they have been amazing. This is not them, even though it’s priced much the same. I’m glad I tried it, but I won’t be repeating the experience.

Don’t let the fancy wood and cork topper fool you; this isn’t deserving of much more than a plastic twist off. Nose is candied corn from a fresh-opened bag…the sugar and chemical smell lingers at the top of the glass just above the ethanol which reminds you this is young and undeveloped. Palate is relatively smooth, but that’s the nicest think I can say about it. Tastes of stale Sugar Smacks, cheap checkout aisle caramel and the runny part of creamed corn. There’s no finish to speak of and nothing to remind you that you just had a sip of whisky. I figured I’d try it, and while it is unobjectionable, it’s also unremarkable in every way.

Nose is stewed fruits with a dusty light floral spritz; think eating orange marmalade on a cracker adjacent to a wedding bouquet. Go too deep and you’ll find ethanol, but keep your nose above that and it’s rather pleasing, if not exactly exciting. Palate opens creamy sweet with more stone fruits and vanilla, midway turning to bitter grass and then even more bitter wood before a tingly, dry close. Very similar to the Oban 18, lacking only a little depth of flavor and the silkiness and maybe a smidge of the sweetness. I actually prefer this to the 18 because it’s more steady throughout, there are no disappointing surprises. It’s 95% of the 18 year experience, at 40% of the cost. It’s also a glaring reminder to not spend more than $80 on anything Diageo (except maybe Laga 12).

This was a performance bonus purchase, because I’m loathe to spend hard-earned money on anything Diageo over $80. Nose is light and inoffensive, with jammy pears and apricots, a nice hint of honeysuckle and a small bit of very old, very sun-dried wood. Not bad, but nothing to make me nose it more than is necessary to actually drink it. Palate is almost oily, moderately rich, also fruity-sweet, and nicely balanced. Sweet apricot and bitter orange rind, sweet honeydew and tart apple, sugary canned pears and sour green grass. Finish is dry oak, which puts it a little too far into the bitter spectrum for my preference, and seems out of place with the rest of the palate. Overall it’s decent, but takes some work to pick the parts from the whole. If I sipped without thought, I would consider this an ok drink, but I say the same about Evan Williams BiB, and it’s $25 a handle, versus $155 a fifth. For that money, I want something that sings to me, that draws me in and compels me to keep coming back. This does not. What it does, is remind me to not spend more than $80 on Diageo, because I will forever be disappointed knowing I could have had a nice Laphroaig, Springbank, Ledaig, BenRiach or GlenDronach, and probably some extra money to spare.

Nose is hay, clover and caramel with just a passing whisp of canned corn. Not remarkable, but also not bad. Palate is much the same, with burnt sugar passing quickly to dusty oak and then cinnamon. Close is all about the cinnamon spice lingering pleasantly for a few seconds before a clean, dry, finish. This does a lot of things alright; not too hot, not too bland, not too thin, but also not very exciting, memorable or special. For $26, it’s worth trying, but as a daily drinker it won’t replace my WT 101. Note: this does get a little sweeter and less spicy from a Norlan versus a Glencairn, and I think it’s probably better that way. The extra sweetness complements the nicely smooth mouthfeel and elevates at least one flavor beyond just ok.

Bottle 296, Batch 001, Cask 5, Tree 12. I once owned a Glen of Imaal Terrier. It’s ok if you’ve never heard of them; I’ll wait while you look them up, and please do…it’s worthwhile. Lineage says they likely originated from the farms of County Wicklow. He was the best dog I’ve ever known, and I figured if the county can produce whisky that’s half as good as the dog, it’ll be fantastic. So I finally found and grabbed this bottle. Nose is quite restrained, and hits me in three distinct segments, first as soft tropical fruits and then coconut and then weathered oak. Ethanol is low with this, so don’t be afraid to root around and look for others. A little more digging finds light honeysuckle and slight pine pitch, but that’s about all I could pull out. Palate opens very, very dry, and is yet somehow creamy, like a really nice Chardonnay; apples, pears, green grapes and honeydew dance lightly around your mouth before it too quickly turns to very bitter grass and blanched almonds. Close is so short it could aptly be called abrupt, leaving just the smallest bit of vanilla and honey before fading completely to a flavorless tingle that continues for another 20 seconds. So how did this compare to the best dog I’ve ever known? Not all that well, if I’m honest. The potential is there…creamy, vibrant, multi-faceted, but it just turns too bitter, too fast. A reasoned rating is probably a 3.25. However, I will try another offering because I’m nostalgic (and stubborn, just like the dog). Maybe a few more years in a different wood will make all the difference. Either way, I like that I can look at the bottle and fondly recall the dog. And this is my review, and my rating, and to me that’s worth another half a point, so 3.75 it is.

Barrel 3275, 52.3% ABV, bottled spring 2021. Nose is wet pine boughs, shaved cedar bark, stale black pepper and topsoil smoothed out with an undercurrent of vanilla. Ethanol is very present, so use caution here. Palate is obviously rye, but not painfully so; pine needles, spearmint and rosemary are tempered by rich caramel and vanilla which lingers for 15-20 seconds before closing cleanly with dry tea and a nice Novocain numbness. Very rich, mouth-coating, on the edge of oily but not quite there. I find this better from a Norlan than a Glencairn; it seems to change the balance of herbal/sweet just a smidge more to sweet, which makes it feel richer and takes the edge off the spice punch. I like rye. I approach it as a nice change of pace when Scotch is too Scotchy and bourbon too sweet. This bottle however, stands on its own, and is more than just a minor alternative to otherwise favored styles. This will be a regular on my shelf.

This is my introduction to Chattanooga distillery, and I won’t bury the lede by stating plainly and upfront that it will not be my last. I love Scotch. I’m developing a very deep relationship with bourbon and American whisky. I saw this and realized I had to give it a go. Nose takes some work to hunt out, but is worth it and very unique: Cedar chest, pine tar, powdered candy (runts, or maybe sugar straws?) and a running undercurrent of Old English furniture polish. Push too deep in the glass though and you’ll be quickly reminded this is young, and the ethanol is happy to say hello. Palate opens warm and crawls up the tongue dropping flavors along the way…pine and honey at the front, a splash of salt then caramel at the midway point, and finally a dryness almost like grapefruit at the close, all underscored by smoke and just the faintest bit of peat sweetness. I’ll admit that it took me a while to warm to this. It’s not bourbon. It’s not Scotch. At times it tastes similar to one or the other but that’s as close as it gets. I usually like bourbon for rich sweetness and Scotch for either herbal or meatiness (and of course the peat!), and this is neither. But I’m (now) okay with that, because overall I think it’s pretty damn good.