Tastes

We've got a Greek relic here that is no wedding, but unmistakably singular - matured for 16 years in ex-bourbon and Spanish Rioja wine casks. It's no Oedipus or Prometheus, perhaps... But neither is it a myth of emergence like the birth of Athena or the transformation of Hermaphroditus. I'm referring to οὐροβόρος - Ouroboros - that symbol of a serpent biting its own tail! Forming a circular tube - it's all about balance, transmigration, continuity beyond horizons, and even fertility - first depicted in Egyptian antiquity. (Yes this reads like an unappetizing circus show but, no pressure, indulge me.) The archetype then manifested itself... much later... in Norse mythology as Jörmungandr, child of Loki, that grew so large as to encircle the entire world and earn the name, Midgard, or "world serpent". Holy cow!!! This latter thing is what is noted on the box as the inspiration for this fine whisky. All quite interesting, but I gave that classical history only a flicker of thought when compared to what I more keenly associated it with, "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo". (The 2009 film starring Noomi Rapace in the original Swedish production, and Mara Rooney in the 2011 U.S. version. Cracking nice entertainment, both!) Did I think through all that just to acquire a bottle? Indeed, I did. (Or, it could've been the clouds of smoke and dim orange sunlight blanketing the L.A. skyline as wildfires scorched the West Coast.) There I stood at the store like a meth smoker in some stupefied condition, I could only narrate as 'brain freeze'. Regardless, I managed to make a decision, buy it, then drive home without too much cognitive dissonance and plenty of anticipation. After arriving at the pad with the box, my partner took one look at it and glanced at me icily. The thought of decanting it crossed my mind, before I thought, "Just f----n' drink it, dude." All this because of the silly Nordic design on the box. Honestly, I could've probably done my partner better had I arrived home with a margherita pizza and wine. But it's not often you've got a winner that's better than dinner! Long story, short - don't let the look of the design detract you from picking one up - it's worth the drama. Now that the hard part's over, let's get onto the scotch! The nose has the characteristic Highland Park notes of honey and heathered peat. The aromas draw you in deeper with what most scotch drinkers should positively identify as a sherry-cask influence. Had I not known that this particular expression had been married in Spanish wine casks, I'd be none the wiser. The palate is reminiscent of the HP 12 as its foundation, but masterfully intensified and augmented. The additional years of maturation layer on the honey flow, even as the fruity red wine notes fluently meld into an almost citrus-like sweetness. Like the threading of a rope, this spirit is a harmonious dance - two effusive streams of flavor - intertwining in a delicious tango. The mouthfeel is exquisite and oily, and pleasing at 46% ABV. (I like oily. Oily is valuable.) The finish is where the red wine tannins emerge alongside the peat, and together with the vibrant citrus notes, they make for a rare outro. I've read more than once the criticism that the Highland Park distillery cask management was no longer optimal. But I feel the inclusion of these wine casks has invigorated what has been missing since the storied 'old' HP line was rebranded in 'new' livery. I hope they keep up that trend. At this point, I can't imagine how the Highland Park 18 could be any better at a lower 43% alcohol-by-volume. Heat is not even an issue here. I'm honestly captivated by this expression. After two drams, I found myself as gleeful with this discovery as I was when eating at a McDonalds or Burger King as a kid. I went back to the store and picked up a second bottle. This limited release is just that good.

Last night, I fell asleep on the couch with the TV on. An advert for the new "Bill & Ted Face the Music" film was broadcasting, and my last conscious thought was, 'I'm jealous.' Then I slipped into placid dreams, plied on by a healthy dose of Old Pulteney 12. In my dreams, a poem was being read by a Scotsman - his accent turning the lines into sing-song lyrics in a Gaelic-inflected cadence, flowing like a babbling brook in a glen. (Full disclosure: this is the height of pretentious conceit for me to actually torment my fellow reviewers and readers with rubbish poetry. I haven't written so, since at least high school. And that must tell where my ego is.... wait, that's the bell!) I live in a modern world, in the USA. A populous and progressive state, both dense and diverse, a metropolitan place. One in a mass, I live on the bedrock of the past. That is what I went through, that is how I came to be. And that may yet tell where I'll lay - in peace. Old Pulteney in spirit calls to me, it's new skin in old ceremony. I outwardly hope this does not disappoint... but I could be in the minority here, despite being adroit. On the palate, burst of citrus sweet. Apples and honey make for added treats. Followed by vanilla, shortbread, sultanas Successive tipples I follow like Ché in Havana. The texture is smooth very much like a vermouth. And of orange peel, I've never dealed to woo or entreat. I smacked my mouth to get it done, notwithstanding the look at my feet. Mother it be, from it she'll never be free. I straight adore you like a play or grand parody. Love like scotch can be such a mystery, from that which I'll drink forth like a black tea. Unfortunately, for me (and maybe you dear reader after suffering through that) I did not wake up as Bill, or Ted - but there was plenty of Old Pulteney instead.

A healthy dose of peat on the nose, shadowing dark red sherried fruits and honeyed bourbon notes. The flavors echo the aromas, blending peat and sweet in a harmonious elegy. This is a damn good quality blend! When I drink this in between glasses of bourbon, it's a luscious delight. It hands down sails past the CB Hedonism at less than half the price. When stacked up against a couple of heavily-marketed single malts, however (talking the Dalwhinnie 12 and the Ardbeg Corryvreckan), it doesn't reach as high a mark. Still, for the value, I think it's an unequivocal home run. Thank you @WhiskeyLonghorn for the history lesson and the well deserved recommendations. I'm certain a bottle of this will see regular rotation on my whiskey shelf

Nice legs. Inviting aroma. The palate is oranges, baked apples - with a cherry note that pops in every so often. A buttery texture leads to an enjoyable nutty finish. Slight astringency at the end. No frills here. Just a very well put together Tennessee whiskey at 11 years bottled-in-bond. Poetic, sweet, nutty, and gracefully aged like Venus Williams at the US Open. Although it's not as dynamic and spice-driven as the Mckenna 10, it's certainly tastier than the Colonel E.H. Taylor Small Batch, and smoother than the Maker's Mark 46. This is without a doubt a re-buy for me. Pick up a bottle while it's still priced in the $40-$50s. Mashbill: 84% corn, 8% rye, 8% malted barley.

Ever witness a cartoon image of evil candy? And no, I don't mean crack. I mean toes that look like candy corn with fangs and claws, and a booty of grisly promiscuity that straddles the line of legality. That is what ran through my mind during my initial sip of this fabulous dram. And as this year's Halloween festivities may go down as the most disappointing in contemporary history, I figured that this whiskey merits a review. The nose is greeted by aromas of grape jelly and spicy cinnamon. Quite inviting, and it appears that this trick-or-treater is wearing sandals. Fortunately for us, the subject drinks like a teenager (so prone to celebrate Halloween in the occasion of a coronavirus orgy vis-à-vis party). And what a party bringer this is: the palate is molasses-inflected, flowing into dark fruity sweetness, before developing into rum-flavored cane sugar. (I borrow liberally from @BeppeCovfefe for his succinct notes.) The mouthfeel is viscous and syrupy. The finish proves to be astringent and drying, but minimally bitter. I think we have a virgin here, my fellow conspirators! But damn - if I haven't sold my soul to the Devil yet - this is the smoothest cask strength whiskey I've ever come across. (Virgin it is, perhaps, but one that is a hustler or a gangster. One who shall never admit to virginity or wrong-doing -- well, at least, not beyond it's infant years.) At a blistering 61.45% abv, the Dovetail rocks more like a 50% liquor, with most of the proof felt tingling on the tongue. It's literally the calm at the center of a brooding storm. This is the first spirit I've encountered where an indulgent sweetness has been successfully amplified by the alcohol volume without hammering me into numb submission. It's like drinking cask strength Manischewitz wine, as the dark liquid coated my throat with sticky nectar. And like a real-life teenager, there is very little balance - but enough maturity to be competent. I want more, however, as I partake in the vitals of the victim. Adding a teaspoon of water and the mouthfeel is a bit lighter, but remains thick, while tempering the dry astringency. (A tad disappointing, considering how a splash of water in Barrell's Whiskey American Vatted Malt turned the body into the most superlative whisk(e)y mouthfeel I've known... but at this point, I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth.) With further attention to the finish -- i.e. tongue smacking -- herbaceous and dark spice notes pop and play out into a light oak bitterness. (Yes, I can taste the parental DNA as I take away my victim's life water.) This takes to H2O very well, but I prefer it neat. When taken so, it is a masterfully blended indulgence, with a thick mouthfeel weighted towards dark sweets and a malt body. Again, it isn't even close to being balanced - as the sweet notes border on cloying - but the ABV will not set my undead palate free. At the end of my voracious bloodletting, I am left with a husk, mirroring the snappy ride that went through my palate. True, the name itself "Dovetail" is relevant to woodwork, where the joints are formed by interlocking segments. And in this case, the segments are the casks involved: rum, cabernet, and port. But like any universally constant ideal, the qualities derived are subject to variance, question, evaluation, and even, denial. And in this particular instance, I'll have to revive my subject to find a permanent place for it in my collection - even if it means entombing it in stone - simply because it's so astoundingly smooth. Thanks @jonwilkinson7309 for the hearty recommendation.

The black box is plastered with booming, sunset-colored 1960's-70s psychedelic lettering: a conflation influenced by the era's albums and singles cover art. Witness a synthesis of The Beatles, "Rubber Soul" and The Who's "Magic Bus" blended together with the color scheme of Stevie Wonder's, "Songs in the Key of Life". The bottle, however, is your modern Ardbeg vessel with the design heralding the island's Celtic heritage. But in the middle of the label, is the name of this celebratory expression, "Grooves" in all it's psychedelic glory. Egads, what a gaudy sight. Far from tastefully accommodating the Celtic theme into nominally-psychedelic depictions gotten in Art Nouveau or Art Deco, it looks like some guy vandalized the label with graffiti. This clash of styles isn't sophisticated - it is hideous! And when put next to the eye-watering price tag, it's practically heresy. I decided at that instant, I was going to bottle kill this travesty and learn the secrets to its twisted origins. When I returned home, I separated it from the other Ardbegs in my thralldom, and innocuously hid it behind a bottle of GD 15, where it would await its fate as my next neck pour.. But alas, when the time for tasting had arrived there was no revelation. There was no jigsaw puzzle of contesting aesthetic functions. There was only Ardbeg quality, delivery, and excellence because.... well.. "because it's Ardbeg!" On with the goods. The aromas are of charred wood and smoke, interloping with delightfully sweet and mildly fruity red wine. Further nosings coalesce into a velvety honey- and malt-inflected scotch profile, echoing with peat and sweet notes, blushing into red fruits. This is one of the most appetizing of scotch aromas I know of. The palate is likewise sweet with an almost soy-inflected barbeque note, I'm thinking Korean short ribs. Less of a roughshod, sherry-driven bacon profile than the Uigeadail, this is a bit more refined: beef grilled over charcoal flames, ringed by bulbous glasses of pinot noir or chianti. Still, it's not as sweet as the Uigeadail, nor as viscous. With the lower alcohol proof, it goes without saying there is less of an impact on your senses. So - while this isn't the Ardbeg battle yell of a charging line of tartan-clad warriors - it's also a world away from Haight-Ashbury libations and devil-dandruff-powered disco. This finishes with a drier and spicier profile than the Uigeadail that I contribute to the toasted barrel grooves. The aroma from the emptied glass is pungent with wine-marinated steak and American BBQ sauce. For the sake of research, I followed this tasting with Lagavulin 16, and the Lag was not much more than a smooth, albeit dangerously so, bourbon-cask scotch floating on a cloud of white smoke. The sea spray and brine notes (having been my least favorite parts of the Lag) were a long ago echo. Simply astounding. While I'll most likely not buy, let alone find, another bottle - this is a great scotch done right. It has certainly piqued my interest in the Blaaack and An Oa, while tempering my expectations at the same time. Was it 'Groovy'? Absolutely.... I was waiting for dessert but I'll just give this a score.

The aromas and flavors seem akin to JW Black, but fuller and stronger, and with a peatier backbone. No water's needed and it's quite quaffable at an ABV of 46%. Priced at $35 USD, this is a commendable VFM that competently showcases a medium peated bourbon-cask profile. At similar price points, the Loch Lomond 12 proves to be a scrupulous SM alternative to the blended JW Double Black -- but with an extra bump in alcohol content. Thank you @Ctrexman for the recommendation. Worth a re-buy for daily zipping.

Johnny comes home from school and says to Daddy, "What's sex?" Dad pauses for a moment and thinks out loud, "O boy, I guess it's now or never." He then goes on to explain the birds-and-the-bees to his son. The son pays rapt attention, his interest ebbing not one bit. When Daddy ends the lesson, the boy looks up in starlit puzzlement, "How am I supposed to fit that all into this little square?" And that's what this renown whisky delivers in light of its reviews: cited complexity that can't quite get it done. The nose at best is somewhat fruity and a tad floral, with a foundation of vanilla wafers. After resting in the glass for 10 minutes, a butterscotch note comes alive. The vanilla nose translates to the palate, but you may have to work a bit to pick up the coconut, creaminess, and confectionery notes that others have raved about. A slight bitter nuttiness joins the party after the mid-palate. This drinks hotter than it's proof with a finish of orange peel and butterscotch. The wood spice and drying oak make a small racket towards the end, as astringency plays a bit role. This is a blend of grain whiskies, and the absence of a majority barley component is clearly evident on both the nose and palate. What it's missing is that full roundness of a journey found in a single malt, or a blended malt scotch. Rather, the experience is quick and ephemeral, something akin to a bourbon or an Irish whiskey, but hotter and rougher in delivery due to it's lack of a single-grain heavy mash bill or a third distillation process. (That may have been the original intent, however.) I've read that this was some smooth and elegant stuff. But none of those descriptors are completely merited here. It appears I've tossed away a Benjamin Franklin to John Glaser and Co. for this near ravishing, but soulless potion. Although, by name alone Hedonism is no cardinal sin - after going through half of the bottle, I find myself more interested in them releasing a sequel :: Gluttony :: than continuing on with this. Glaser is without a doubt an EXPERT whisky maker, but based on this expression, I think he's wearing it on his sleeve. I would buy this again at a lower price of $50-$60, but at the current asking price of a C-note, it's laughable. My Rating Glossary: Two Stars: "I'd rather be drinking lite beer." Two 1/2 Stars: "Posh rubbish." Three Stars: "I love whisk(e)y. This is average love." Three 1/2 Stars: "May buy again." Four Stars: "I've got to get you into my life." Four 1/2 Stars: "Better than drugs." Five Stars: "Life is good. Whisky makes it better."

After airing for some minutes: aromas of vanilla, banana, Nilla wafers with a touch of coconut, and pineapple dipped in alcohol, rise from the glass. The palate is likewise fruity with a dry finish of rafter oak. The initial mouthfeel resembles a scotch up to mid-palate, but then followed by a dry finish often found in higher-ABV bourbons. A 60/40 ratio for a very hearty mouthfeel, nonetheless. The flavor likewise is very much in the scotch court, but the complexity also reminds me of a well done Irish whiskey. The Mizunara oak maturation certainly imparts a unique flavor profile. This is Japanese whisky done right. At a price point of $60-75, however, this NAS faces strong competition –- and it can be polarizing. To be honest, I agree with Ben from Whisky.com. You pay a premium for J-whisky because of the quality they ensure with their near-religious control of production amid a stock shortage. This, however, is just such a tasty dram. Thank you @JonWilkinson7309, as always, for the sample. I may have discovered my first J-whisky purchase. My Rating Glossary: Two Stars: "I'd rather be drinking lite beer." Two 1/2 Stars: "Posh rubbish." Three Stars: "I love whisk(e)y. This is average love." Three 1/2 Stars: "May buy again." Four Stars: "I've got to get you into my life." Four 1/2 Stars: "Better than drugs." Five Stars: "Life is good. Whisky makes it better."

Awesome American Dream story behind this whiskey: a young Iranian child flees his country after it falls to forces loyal to the Ayatollah Khomeni. He settles in the United States and grows up to be a PhD psychologist. He marries an American from Louisville, KY (also a psychologist) who introduces him to the wondrous world of bourbon. He's hooked (in more ways than one). Years later, Kaveh Zamanian, after a successful career in psychology, founds his own distillery in Kentucky! As for this expression: there's something vinous in the aroma, and you know it was finished in sherry or port casks. A generous ABV with a decent mouthfeel. Then the oak appears, contrasting the sweet notes with a woodiness that doesn't quite meld very well - like something poking out of a stream of flavors. The nosing after the first sip is rich, sweet, and almost scotch-like. This bourbon does have character, no doubt. After successive tipples, the wood notes begin to blend well into the finish. What surprises me about this whiskey is that even though it's PX finished, the aromas aren't as sweet as those found in the Belle Meade Sherry (Oloroso) Cask Finish. Nor are they very nutty. (Someone let me know if my notion of the differences is invalid.) The PX dark fruits are on the palate, but just don't deliver the same degree of depth as those of the Belle Meade. Still, it's a congenial bourbon given it's younger pedigree - 6 yrs vs 9yrs. (Hopefully, they'll make available older stock in the future. And with new ownership by Pernod Ricard, that is a plausible outcome.) If you're getting into finished bourbons, this is a good place to start. Not as outstandingly good and sweet as the Belle Meade, this one retains enough bourbon notes that you'll recognize it as a son of Kentucky (and the extra finish is a bonus). Thanks @jonwilkinson7309 for the 50ml sample and introduction to a very fine craft distillery.