Tastes

Amazing—and definitely Irish—nose with floral character, heather, and minerals. It lacks elsewhere though. A bit thin on the palate, and an overly fruity aftertaste. From tasting event, 12/17/16.

I really enjoy the work that comes out of Knockando. The nose is sweet and peaty, as is the palate. There's not much nuance here in the marriage between peat and sweetness. In other words, the peat feels kind of cut-and-paste for this dram. Maybe that's because I've been spoiled by Islay and the Isles. Salty, spicy, fruity, mossy, with a sprightly finish. I'd have walked away with this bottle tonight if the price wasn't so up-charged ($80, whereas it's around $50 elsewhere). From tasting event, 12/17/16.

Pours the color of a glowing ember. The nose is tantalizingly sweet—tiramisu, heather, ripe wine grapes just before the frost, and hints of tropical fruit. The nose would betray an overly sweet malt, but actually (and thankfully) the palate is nutty and spiceful; candied walnuts, salted cashews, heather honey, and spiced fruit play well with a rich malt base. Towards the back of the palate the tannins and wood flavors dominate, again balancing out a sweetness that would otherwise be overwhelming. The finish is pleasant, musty, prickly, and spicy, while the aftertaste is reminiscent of grape must, sweet nuttiness, and chocolate cherries. Overall, a truly captivating whisky. As far as sherried malts go, it's a step above Aberlour and would compete with The Glenrothes 1998. I'd prefer the '98 to this one for its luxurious tropical fruit notes and creaminess, but the Glenfarclas 12 is truly a fine dram. Like others have noted, the 12 gets one excited to try older Glenfarclas expressions.

The only other rye I've tasted was a Canadian one distilled in the late 60s. So here goes. This one smells bright, and the first impression on the palette is banana tart. Sun-ripened strawberries, brown sugar, and cedar. Finishes with aniseed and light mint.

This dram hints at its being a sherried one in all its aspects. The color is an opulent amber, and the nose is full of thick toffee, leather, and dark malt. Beneath the tar-coated palate the whisky's body is raisiny and sweet. I taste wood spice and peaches with brown sugar. As I sit with it the underlying sweetness evokes baked oatmeal and cherry preserved. Don't be fooled, though — this is a spicier, more offensive Bunnahabhainn with a salty and pipesmoke mouthfeel and a freaking furnace of an ashy finish. Toiteach might be compared to Talisker Storm but in my opinion is far more exciting.

Finally getting a pour of this; long been at the top of my list. The nose's first impression is of fresh pineapple, with honeysuckle, a seaside warehouse, and hints of leather being discerned afterward. My wife, whose birthday is the occasion of this tasting, smells the bacon-wrapped dates we had at a tapas restaurant a week ago. On the palate as in the bouquet, the to-die-for Springbank trademark of savory sweetness is evident. Further, I can't understand how this can be a NAS whisky, as it is wise beyond its years. Sweet lemon peel, smoked trout, peppered honey, rich earthiness, and a gradually increasing peat influence (rubbery and oily) mark the palate as I confirm to myself that Springbank is my favorite distillery thus far. This dram finishes deep, warming the throat without being overly wild, and the burn is consistent. Tarragon, peat smoke, and honeysuckle stay for the aftertaste. This will be my next bottle of whisky.

From a beautiful olive bottle pours a bright, floral yellow. The nose is salty and meaty right away, with Lagavulin's signature smoked game feel being apparent. But it's also zesty, like unripe lemon, and has bold aromas of sourdough and seaweed. The palate is at first sweet and richly malty, and smoked honey comes right before the spicy burn. The malt's youth plays against the bold body that characterizes older Lagavulins; but this isn't that attention-hungry class clown—this is that cunning, malevolent youth that schoolteachers dread. But in this whisky, the youth is balanced by the rich body, and that beyond-reform pupil meets his match with the old-fashioned, stoic professor that reads Hume and Nietzsche. As the palate develops, I taste grilled stone fruit and sizzling fat. The finish burns and almost stings, numbing and intoxicating the whole mouth. The aftertaste is somewhere between char and dried wildflowers. This is truly an impeccable dram.

Pale sunlight in color. The nose is youthful, zingy, and green; I smell lemon peel, the skin of Granny Smith apples, agave nectar, and wet hay — finally, a gently smoky peat scent arises. The palate boasts first and foremost that honeycomb-like, waxy Highland Park trademark; it's muted and smooth at first, with malt, toasted pine nuts, and light salt mildly held together. As I spend more time with it, its more delicate notes come around — hibiscus, herbal tea, thyme, and tarragon. The peat plays a supporting role, giving the dram an herbal feel rather than a smoky one. It finishes with some heat, but it's not unpleasant. The aftertaste is sweet and nutty. Perfect for an everyday pour during the warm months. 

The nose is tart and unremarkable (even in a glencairn and after a great deal of patience), with surface-level hints of unripe berries and young spirit. The palate is more rambunctious, angsty even: sharp vanilla, perfumed and floral, with underwhelming flavors of rock candy and fruit overpowered by heavy menthol and barrel spice. The mouthfeel is waxy and the aftertaste is that of cherry chapstick. Seedbread comes along after the pleasant raspberry zing finish that happens to accompany that spicy palate. I see some nice Lowland characteristics at play, but only clumsily — not as in the sure simplicity of a Glenkinchie. Overall one of the least luxurious scotch experiences I've had. Maybe the bottle that Kory got was an anomaly.