Tastes

On our trip last year to Scotland, we found this bottle at a supermarket chain called Co-Op. Which begs the question: do the Scottish seriously get to enjoy high-quality, independent bottlings of some of the best distilleries in the country, simply by going to their everyday grocery stores? This whiskey's most prominent scents include vanilla and white fruit such as pear or white peach. It's also surprisingly floral at times, although its Islay heritage reveals itself in a healthy dose of brine. There is some peat, but it lingers on the edges, imparting a faint minerality. Key lime pie is an unexpected revelation on the palate of this mellow, easy-drinking whisky. Its predominant flavors are sweet or dessert-like: vanilla, butter, and honey. Like all coastal Islay whiskies, seaspray and brine add a pleasing, seasoned character to each sip. The peat is subtle on the finish and expresses itself as aromatic woodsmoke and salted butter.

Everyone who's a fan of bourbon recognizes their iconic logo. This bottle, the first new bourbon from the distillery in a long time, is their "fourth rose" (alongside the standard yellow label, Small Batch, and Single Barrel releases). My wife and I shared most of a bottle during the course of a 10-day road trip through Kentucky, Indiana, and Illinois, and found it to be a chameleon in character, changing from day to day and glass to glass. My first experience came when nosing it directly from the bottle, and that may showcase this bourbon's tremendous potential the best. These early scents included dense maple syrup, molasses, stewed fruit, a hint of oak, and craisins. However, I found that it was hard to replicate this depth of sensation when poured out into a glass, where I had to fight through considerably more ethanol only to run headlong into a whorl of rye spice, heady, musky florals, honey, and more citrus fruit. On one night, I could even swear I got a sweetened soy sauce impression from it. I preferred drinking this in a rocks glass rather than a glencairn, which is a rarity among whiskies, almost all of which benefit from the latter. On some sips, it feels like a classic, high-quality, albeit slightly youthful bourbon, with honey and caramel coating the mouth with a full, creamy texture. Occasionally, that darker syrup lingers, while other tastes reveal high doses of rye spice. A few of the more evanescent notes glimpsed from time to time include craisins and unsweetened chocolate. There's an unusually low amount of vanilla flavors for a bourbon. The rye is the star of the show on this finish. In fact, it's so pronounced that it almost becomes hoppy or bitter. At one point, it reminded me of the bitterness of biting into a cherry pit or grape seed by mistake while eating the fruit. The F yeast mint is here in spades as well, for better or worse. At this price point, I'd recommend going for Russell's Reserve Single Barrel or Bulleit Barrel Strength.

This celebratory anniversary blend is self-referential in a unique way. It features a substantial portion of whiskey that Compass Box bottled for Delilah's 20th anniversary, further aged in a refill hogshead. Add to that a ton of sherry-aged single malts from around Scotland, and a touch of light grain whisky, and we have this bottle. It's surprisingly affordable at about $100 a bottle and available at a few liquor stores around the country, if you can't make it to Chicago to try it at the bar it honors. This whisky is what Macallan 18 wishes it was, a rich, complex, sherried dram that is worthy of contemplation and appreciation. Expect to encounter some of these flavors along the way: strawberries, baking spices, cherries, caramel, honey, apple cider, pepper, cocoa nibs, and fruit-based desserts. I'll cop to some bias against sherried whiskies, but this might be the best that I've encountered.

Thanks to @PBMichiganWolverine for the sample of this inaugural release from a new distillery, which I thought was magical. Scotch's ineffable magic lies in its slow maturation, and the industry's greatest strength --as well as its greatest weakness -- similarly lies in the glacial pace at which it changes. A handful of distilleries, however, have recently opened and are more open to trying innovative methods of production or aging. Ailsa Bay is one of those distilleries, and this 2016 first release featured a few twists on the age-old formula. First, the distillery identified the exact parts per million not just of peat but also of "sweet," a proprietary measurement that Ailsa Bay developed. This one is 21 ppm peat, 11 ppm sweet. Second, the distillery aged its distillate initially in very small bourbon casks to speed up the maturation process and impart flavor more quickly. The results . . . are amazing. I'm instantly vaulting this distillery up there with Kilchoman as my favorite new-age whiskymaker. I didn't realize that this was a peated scotch before I caught its scent, but instantly I recognized that alluring mixture of earthy gravel, coffee, and sweet cream as the quintessential nose for a mainland peated scotch. Its palate features sweet cereal, honey, mild herbal peat, cinnamon, and a light floral touch. Its finish is floral as well, well-balanced, with a healthy measure of toasted oak. I can't wait to see more from this distillery.

Tasted at Fountainhead in Chicago, a great whiskey bar. Flaming Heart is a recurring series of Compass Box releases that features Caol Ila's peated whiskies prominently. In this respect, one can think of it as a much more expensive ($125+) Johnnie Walker Black Label, another Caol Ila-heavy blended scotch. I don't know that I'd pay that much for it, but the reasonable $16 I paid for a generous glass was just right. My first note right off the bat was Caol Ila/Ardbeg character, meaning a combination of ashy smoke and lemon-lime citrus. Complementing that punchy essence are dark caramel and then a complex mixture of creamy nut butters. Flaming Heart finishes with a long, lingering exhalation of smoke. I wouldn't have guessed a blend if I'd tasted this one blind, I would have thought that it's just a really good Islay single malt. And that's about the highest compliment that I can give a whisky.

I'm not as big a fan of Bowmore as I am of some of the other Islay distilleries. However, this 10-year old Bowmore is about as pure an expression of Islay as one is likely to find. This is an unfiltered, cask-strength, small-batch release that consists of only a handful of casks. There have been three such limited releases to date, although I'm not sure which one we tried. It's also found outside of the U.S. by a different name, Tempest. It smells like fresh-baked oatmeal cookies and dry woodsmoke, but its flavors are much richer and fruitier than expected, with bursts of sweet berries, rich mulled cider, and a dash of sea salt. That sea salt is what lingers on the tongue the longest. This bottle is overpriced at well over $100 in most liquor stores, especially when compared to the equally puissant and even more memorable Laphroaig 10 Cask Strength (usually around $70-80). Nonetheless, I'm glad I tried it; this is one of the best Bowmores that I've encountered.

This dram was the last of a vertical Dalmore tasting that we just attended. For such an expensive scotch, weighing in at $280 or so a bottle, I was hoping for something more. This is similar to, yet milder than, the 18-year old, but it's too nondescript to justify its soaring price tag. The distinctive notes that distinguish it from its younger and less expensive siblings are a creamy hazelnut and toffee or caramel flavors that make this whisky seem like the least sherry-influenced of the bunch.

I'm loading up notes from a Dalmore vertical tasting last week, and this whisky was the clear winner of the night. Cigar Malt is Richard Paterson’s take on an ideal scotch-and-cigar pairing. It is a noticeably meatier, punchier dram, with more spice notes that modulate its sweetness. Everything about this makes sense, as its notes would stand up to a cigar, and even its flaws may help it not be overpowered in that cigar lounge-style setting. A bunch of ethanol vapor needs time to waft off, but once it’s gone, a rich caramel settles in. This is a spicy scotch, akin to Big Red gum, with more caramel and sherry accompaniment. The finish exhibits a mild sherry tinge, some tobacco leaf, and sharp cinnamon. It’s not complex, but it has backbone. That being said, I'm persistently aggravated by the low ABVs that all of these Dalmore bottlings feature; this dram, at 48-52%, would be much more impressive and would probably be a better cigar companion.

We recently went to a Dalmore vertical tasting hosted by Ben Boice, the brand's US ambassador. This is the newest addition to the lineup, and Ben informed us that the average age of the whisky here is about 15 years. There’s obviously much younger juice in here, however, because if they could put 15 on the bottle, I guarantee that they would have. Its nose exhibits an alluring mixture of chocolate syrup (think ice cream sundaes with Hershey’s sauce) and clay. The palate has more grip than I expected, and is appreciably thicker than the comparatively watery 12- and 15-year expressions. However, it’s so sweet and sugary that I couldn’t imagine myself having a full 2-ounce pour, much less a second glass. This scotch rounds out nicely with dried apricots, raspberries, some graham cracker, and toasted oak. This is probably $20 too expensive, and lacks ideal balance, but at least it has a distinctive personality.

It's funny, I could have sworn that I've had this and reviewed it before. But I don't see anything in the books, so here we go. We had a glass of this at the start of a recent Dalmore vertical tasting to whet the palate, and it’s a nice, easy-sipping scotch with light citrus tones but also a rough, woody, scratchiness (for lack of a better word) on the finish. Ironically, that lack of refinement actually helps it because it adds some texture to the dram and cuts down on the sweetness, so I prefer it to its closest brethren like the 15-year old.