Tastes

I love this, and I’m surprised by how many people don’t. It’s the contrast that gets me. You start with a rich, gooey, pungent, ripe fruit cake nose which, if left out for a while, develops into a blonde tobacco wood varnish. Somehow, incongruously, this delicate and strange nose leads into a big, spiced, sucking-on-damp-plank oak on the tongue.

Surprisingly non-eventful across the nose, the tongue, and the finish. It’s almost impressive to put together a bourbon that so perfectly manages to be drinkable but also so simple, inconsequential and unmemorable.

On initial tastings, wasn’t feeling it. A lot of that, I suspect, was down to the bullshit marketing which underpins the Clyde May’s brand—it’s one of those brands who front like their product is deeply grounded in some rich history. It’s not. But now that the tedious marketing is at the back of my mind, I’m enjoying the product. There’s an oaky, smokey apple on the nose, and it follows through to the tongue. The finish is briefer than ideal, beyond a lingering top note of candy apple rye. I’d prefer the producers spent more time and money on production rather than marketing, but I guess my issues are with capitalism rather than the bourbon.

The nose is all flat Cherry Coke. Hiding underneath: Low-pitched vanilla sugar-crusted peanuts. Very slight hints of dark chocolate. Spring flowers as it opens up. On the tongue, and the finish, a dry, sarcastic bitterness, and peppery Oak.