Tastes

Smells like molasses oatmeal bread – and this draws me in. Unfortunately, along with it there is a thinning aspect that is unpleasant and resembles turpentine. That aspect morphs into a cherry medicinal note on the palate, which I cannot decide if I like or if it's off putting. Thankfully, burnt brown sugar and tobacco are also at play on the palate, while the finish is smoky and sweet. It’s a good whisky but not a good scotch. I'd drink it happily if it were all that was available. But I'm also glad that it's not.

I bought Nikka From the Barrel shortly before I finished Taketsuru Pure Malt. I could tell they were kin, but From the Barrel is less reserved, more forward—though both deserve patience. It smells strong, toasty, and spicy, with rich malt apparent from the first burn of the nostril. Yet it is fundamentally woodsy, with Cavendish, sumac, and rain-soaked moss (the peat is gentle here) driving the nose. The palate is still charred, but sweeter. Notes of cinnamon yeast donut, sea salt dark chocolate, and crème brûlée play precise roles on that woodsy foundation. The finish is like that of a perfect macchiato—awakening, emotive, and spiceful. This is exquisitely good whisky, and I will savor every storied drop.

Arran 14 has been on my wishlist for so many years and I’m so glad I found it. It’s remarkable, like a late-summer beach picnic. Aromas of spice bread, pineapple syrup, hibiscus tea, decadent malt, and beach rose entice. The flavors are next level, layer upon layer—overripe peach, enlivening spice like green cardamom, passion fruit, and hints of jamón serrano. The mouthwatering finish is like the post-picnic run into the surf—sweet and salty, expansive, refreshing. This single malt is simply outstanding.

Lore pours a deep mahogany, an appearance that fits its name and all that it stands for. Kippery aromas of seaweed waft up from the glass, the leading notes on the nose. That memorable Laphroaig introduction is never far away when sweeter notes of cinnamon candied walnuts and fig tart and richer flavors of capicola appear. There is an unexpected touch of fresh green olives too. A remarkable nose. The taste is too, with notes of smoked cherrywood, plump red wine grapes, and aged Gouda. It’s a feast’s worth of aromas and flavors. The mouthfeel is sharp and yet creamy, like that Gouda note from the palate. The tongue buzzes and the mouth waters. The finish is oaken, smolderingly smoky, lasting and pensive. Impressions of a solitary walk in old woods. The empty glass smells like peppercorns and cherrywood. One to savor, but one that is so good it will be hard to keep for too long. It’s both in the vein and in the league of Ardbeg Uigeadail, Ledaig 18, and Springbank 15. Savored the last pour of this bottle in solitude, at sunset on Calloway Peak in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Kaiyō Mizunara Oak shines a fossilized amber color with a nice clarity in the glass. The nose is distinct but gentle. Floral, hints of worn leather, and incense. Impressions of a cool breeze through a fruit grove. Sweeter notes of orange roll. The palate takes that aromatic impression further; the first things I taste are peaches and tangerines. Toasted coconut, sea salt, and more tannic notes of oak and acorn follow. That incense note from the nose is a lovely undercurrent, but it is delicate and not overt. The finish surprises — it is chaotic, marvelous, and breathtaking. It is a finish that kicks but diminishes with a very slow burn. It’s the only thing about Kaiyō that I could consider harsh. With a few drops of cool water, the grove fruit pops more and makes the mouth water with its juiciness. Less tannic and much smoother, the mellower oak notes come out in place of the astringency. With water the finish is a bit calmer, like the ocean on a still and sunny day. Still, the slow burn keeps going, wave by wave, finally breaking with a sultry and floral aftertaste. Kaiyō brings me into the new territory of mizunara aged whisky. I’ve really enjoyed this bottle. At the same time, its chaotic finish seems to occur before it’s welcome. That harshness sets in too soon. I don’t know if that’s the whisky or the mizunara aging or some combination of both.

I love an enigmatic and complex whisky. It’s taken me sitting with half the bottle to feel as though I’m well enough acquainted with this whisky to appreciate it. The color is a nutty brown with a deep red hue. The aroma is a blossom of intense notes, as far apart as pineapple upside down cake and smoked trout, kombu and cashew. The palate, while underwritten by sweet flavors, boasts savory and tangy overtones: more of the above—smoked trout and spiced cashew butter—and notes of Valencia orange, cacao nibs, and grape must. The mouth explodes with these flavors, hints of notes so well combined and exhibited that it’s almost better just to enjoy the rush rather than think too much about it. It’s elixir-like, mouth coating, and medicinal, but deceptive and viscous. Left in my mouth, from the surface of the whisky lifts a floral note that tickles the palate (it’s hard to describe). The finish is heavy and energetic, wave after wave, intoxicating any air inhaled. This whisky is special. While it’s an expensive bottle for its age, even more than, say, Springbank 10, it’s a fair price to pay for what it contains.

A stunning color – much darker than the 10, with a burgundy hue. The nose is reminiscent of the Bunnahabhain 12, but it’s been over five years since I’ve had that, so I can’t explain how exactly. I smell cocoa, beeswax, gardenia, and a hint of seaweed. The palate is complicated – definitely the most delicate Ardbeg I’ve had. I taste raspberry jam, rooibos tea, chocolate, bright malt, and cigarette smoke. I say the palate is complicated because none of these notes strike me as delicate alone, but the way they partner together is truly impressive and unassuming. The mouthfeel is zingy, and red raspberry is again brought to mind. The finish brings honeycomb and smoke, with a rush of sea salt and that sweet-floral gardenia note again. It lingers to a slow burn in the chest, though, again, gentle in comparison to its siblings. Sweet char and malt stay on the palate long after the glass has emptied. An Oa is one to savor, to spur contemplation.

I could have sworn that I had a glass of this at a pub in Portsmouth, New Hampshire several years ago, but I think it was a friend who got it while I drank Highland Park 15. So this is a new one for me. Shortbread, caramel, and leather on the nose. A hint of light, sweet smoke, like church incense. The palate is sweet, with black cherry and nectarine up front. Fig newtons are a prominent note. After that it’s biscuity and malt-centric, with wood spice rear palate and a coastal note. The mouthfeel is balanced, and the finish is a wave of salt and figs and smoke. A trusty, everyday dram with an aftertaste like walking into a humidor.

The sherry-inflected nose invites a patient and careful sitting to appreciate this whisky’s nuances. I smell almond, moss, and warming malt at play with the sherry. Manuka honey shows up on the palate, with the notes from the nose showing up as well. The malt is rich and yet gentle, reminiscent of a light-roast coffee. The mouthfeel is pleasant and youthful, astringent and acorn-like. Taketsuru Pure Malt finishes with a flourish of spice and marzipan to carry the otherwise gentle flavors back to their beginning. The scent of delicate pipe tobacco lingers in the empty glass. This special whisky is complex and nuanced, with abundant if not somewhat reserved character. It’s one to be savored and treated with patience as it keeps unfolding; like a familiar place that you find isn’t finished telling its secrets. This whisky has elements that remind me of a Speyside single malt like AnCnoc.