Tastes

This scotch puzzles me a little bit. I smell a lot of fresh saplings, snapped in half, along with some Riesling, and gravel. To describe it in the best light, it's a vineyard after a fitful spring rain. But it's a hard scent to pull out of the glass, and at times manifests as a watery, faintly sweet echo of its best self. Then there's a wonderful harmony of flavors of ripe orchard fruit, tannic wood, and toasted malt. It's not overly sweet, which is an achievement in a wine-finished whisky. If anything, it hews a little bit too far on the side of bitterness, and it finishes like a dry white wine. Unlike the spectacular BenRiach 18 Albariza, I'm pretty sure this expression is not peated at all. Given how well BenRiach's distillate takes to some moderate peating, I suspect it would have been to this expression's benefit to up the smoke level a little. At or around a pricey $100 a bottle, I wouldn't classify this as a must-have scotch.

For some reason, people associate the word "meaty" with this scotch from Speyside. I'm not sure what that means, as this dram does not exhibit any of the savory notes that I find in some sherry-aged Islay single malts. This is actually a fragrant, aromatic scotch, at least to me. The aromas are enticing: pear, white peach, some salinity, and hay. Maybe some young, unripe apples too. This whisky exhibits first-rate texture on the palate, with attractive thickness and viscosity. Perhaps it's that rich, full nature that people describe as "meaty" -- if scotches were soups, this one would be a chowder. The palate features oatmeal, whole grains sprinkled with sugar, and that cornucopia of fruit. If anything, there's some sharp citric acid supplementing that complexity. The finish balances out cream, smoke like a brulee, and apple again, almost as if this was a mildly peated scotch. This scotch also features generous doses of pine and oak; this is a whisky that acts its age. There's something bitter or somewhat off-putting at the end, which is the main flaw. Nonetheless, if you can find this for under $50, it's a pretty strong value.

Thanks to Telex for this sample! Well, this may be the winner for hardest to pronounce name in the scotch world. A cursory Google search yields the meaning of the name: "smoky mist," a fitting appellation for one of this distillery's few peated expressions (an unusual distinction among Islay's whisky makers). Based on this sample, Bunnahabhain's choice to go unpeated for their main line really is a choice, not a lack of ability. Wow, this scotch is a dead ringer for Ardbeg 10 on the nose: smoke, clay, and lemon cakes. There's something in here that's similar to Caol Ila 12 as well, although with the sweetness dialed down. On the palate, a strong bite of smoke, followed by that salty, briny, spicy combination that calls to mind grilled shrimp drizzled with lemon. The finish is comparatively mild, medium in length, and again features a pleasant mixture of smoke, herbal peat, chives or some other grassy note, and citrus. It's Ardbeg 10 by any other name. Or is it Ardbeg's own doppelganger, Kilchoman Machir Bay? Close call, close enough not to matter much. It's more expensive, at $70-80, so I don't see a clear reason to prefer it over its brothers from another mother (twin-bill from another still?).

What a difference a measure of additional aging in a different barrel type can make! Maker's 46 is basically Maker's Mark, with an additional resting period in barrels made in part of seared French oak staves. The idea, or so I read on the interwebs, is that the seared (rather than charred) wood imparts more sweet flavor to this bourbon. In this case, I don't think that's just marketing hype. The nose is dramatically better than its younger brother, with a wallop of cherries and bright, sweet flavors that I associate with those twist-off cap juices that I'd drink as a kid after little league games. This bourbon feels like 1980s-1990s Americana. The palate comes closer to traditional bourbon flavors, with a little spice from that oak mingling with and balancing out the strong cherry presence. Unlike the hot finish of Maker's Mark, Maker's 46 has a longer but milder finish, and again cherries and maple syrup were the primary notes I detected. It's also reasonably priced at around $40, and well worth the step up from the $30 it'll cost to pick up a bottle of Maker's Mark.

In the glass, Batch 006 is a mahogany or bronze shade, quite dark and rich in appearance. The nose is the best part of Batch 006. Asian pear, plum, peach, exotic fruits all around. Significant oak gave the nose a firm framework for those sweeter flavors. Just a slight hint of singing alcohol, to be expected with such a powerful bourbon. Unfortunately, that's followed by a bit of a letdown. Batch 006 has a fruity entry, consistent with the nose, then some toffee, plums, brown sugar, heather, and ginger. But the notes don't punch with power, if that makes any sense, a particularly odd realization given the proof. Batch 006 had something of the "hole in the palate" sensation, which is a strange turn of phrase that I've seen in other reviews and have come to understand after trying a lot of different whiskies. There comes a point in the flavor progression where you expect the experience to amp up (it's kind of a, "Now for the guitar solo!" moment). Only a few bourbons rise to the challenge, and those are the true superstars. I don't think this bourbon quite hits that high water mark. On the plus side, it does finish for days and is quite complex. I get rye spice, cherry candy, and lots of oak, with a ton of warmth as it travels down the throat. However, the lasting final note from it is a grassy, slightly bitter flavor that I associate with younger cask-strength whiskies.

We had this scotch at the same time as we tried Aberlour 12, and it stood out as seeming to be richer, with fuller, darker flavors, and a thicker texture, than that scotch. That's a pretty big surprise considering that it actually is more diluted. This is a clear leap above the mediocre Glenfiddich 12. The nose has some sherry influence as well, and dark, brown sugar aromas. On the palate, it's a sweet, wine-influenced whisky, but with a buttery sweetness that reminds of a cinnamon roll (albeit with most of the spice brushed off) or a beignet. The finish is relatively short, with mild, malty flavors.

The distillery refers to it as "double cask matured," essentially meaning that it's the product of both sherry and traditional oak aging. Overall, I was left with the impression that this is another faintly sherried whisky that has trouble standing out. That means there are scents of dates and raisins, lending it a Mediterranean air. The highlight was a mild, creamy sweetness that reminded me a bit of a creme brûlée, but that was offset by a coppery or metallic note. In its aroma and its texture, this comes across as a thin whisky. This scotch is a pale imitation of Aberlour A'bunadh, it's more expensive and muscular bigger brother. And I didn't even like that one all that much.

I am not a huge fan of Bruichladdich. In fact, if there were a small meteor headed for Islay and I had the godlike power to choose which distillery would take the hit, it'd probably be these guys (sorry! I just love my peaty scotches too much). With that being said, this unpeated line of whiskies, put out under the distillery's own name, isn't half-bad. Bruichladdich is leading the charge in the so-called "terroir"movement, as a recent article on Distiller highlights. Here's what one-of-a-kind Islay-ness produces: a strong nose of apple cider and scents similar to rose wine, including a little zest and cotton candy. On the palate, there are loads of classic scotch honey, grapefruit and more apple, and a mixture of waxy, spicy, and nutty characteristics that is quite an overload of flavors. It's a bit discordant, but also complex. The finish is spicy and a tiny bit bitter, and is where the whisky's youth reveals itself.

Diurachs are the inhabitants of Jura, and this whisky honors them. It's a higher-end expression from the distillery, aged a somewhat atypical 16 years. That age is immediately evident on the nose, which has a rosy musk that isn't present in the younger expressions. Leather, rosewater, grapefruit, and cereal. This would make a decent cologne. The first thing I noticed when sipping it is its oily texture, which is much fuller-bodied and flavor-packed than I'd expect at just 40% alcohol. It's lavender-infused oil, candied sweets, oak, and floral malt again. The finish features café au lait and caramel corn for a lovely coda. The three phases don't quite cohere for me, as the floral nose transitions into a very sweet and woody palate, whereas the finish seems like a great combination of sherry, ex-bourbon, new oak, and malt flavors. Those final notes are the high water mark of this whisky and, in my experience thus far, of this distillery's single malts. I wonder what the effect of upping the ABV would be, or perhaps peating this whisky.

Origin is a 10-year old whiskey that has a similar price point to Superstition, its sweeter, richer cousin.  Compared to Superstition, Origins seems not to have as much (if any) sherry-cask aging.  Its sweetness is mellower and features a variety of fruits, including caramel-covered green apple (think Halloween) and pear.  Although it's considered unpeated, there seems to be a touch of smoke on both the nose and the palate.  In contrast to the fruit-forward nose, its flavor profile isn't far off Bowmore 12, with a slightly dull or almost metallic quality to its maltiness, just less smoke.  I noticed some notes in the tea vein, with dried, vegetal, slightly bitter, aromatic properties.  At around $50 a bottle, Origin is an interesting and unusual expression, not easy to categorize.  I prefer Superstition among the two entry-level Juras.