Tastes

See dual note on Ardbeg Twenty Something.

Simply magnificent! A fruity and floral nose swirls lusciously in a dense mixture of sweet ethanol. The bouquet is so perfect you wonder if consumption by inhalation is at all possible. The liquid has yet to hit the palate and I’m already doodling 5 stars on the paper in front me. Stunningly smooth, the nectar embraces you with the touch of a loved one. It’s intricately composed of woods ranging from the 3 corners of a whisky drinker’s lopsided world, yet clearly articulated as Stephanie has so aptly pointed out. I guess I could say more, but her review and those of others here have already done so satisfactorily. Many thanks to my friend @PBMichiganWolverine for this incredible sample.

We celebrated my mother’s 96th birthday yesterday, so I’m feeling a little nostalgic. She’s a crusty, blue-blooded Yankee whose Dutch ancestors arrived in New Amsterdam (New York City) twelve generations earlier. Her father was English and her maternal grandmother was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, so I guess this is where I get my affinity for scotch. It wasn’t always this way, however, as my paternal grandfather immigrated from Italy early in the 20th century and was one hell of a winemaker. He settled in a suburb north of Boston and had a winepress forged by the town’s last blacksmith. It still sits in my 200 year old basement waiting to come out of retirement. If ever the world is annihilated by way of nuclear holocaust this winepress will be the last thing still standing. Years ago, I talked my father and a couple other family members into making wine. It was an interesting ritual that took place at the Chelsea Produce Market in Boston. The old-time Italians would only buy Zinfandel grapes from California because they had the highest sugar content. Even then, selecting the right brand required a ceremonial process equivalent to joining the Freemasons. The custom involved squeezing the clear juice from a grape and rubbing it between your fingers to test for stickiness. The stickier the better because this meant a high sugar content and, therefore, stronger wine. After an hour of arguing a selection was made and we would then move to another area where fresh, 50-gallon whiskey barrels could be purchased for 15 dollars. It was important to shake all the barrels until you could hear some whiskey sloshing around. This would insure the wood was well saturated to minimize leakage and also aid in raising the final ABV of the wine to about 17%. The only drawback to this recipe was red wine that tasted a little like Jack Daniel’s, and this is where the story finally wraps back around to the Macallan Rare Cask. Initially, I found the sherry influence of this expression overpowering. The first time I sat with this whisky I couldn’t help remembering those whiskey barrels of years ago and their effect on the wine. I know Macallan went to great lengths selecting only the top 1% of their sherry cask aged whiskies for this vatting (most first-fill), but, apparently, they did too good a job. It prompted one of my Macallan-loving friends to ask if this expression was a vatting of whisky and sherry. He didn’t like it much and I also had my reservations. Over time, however, this spirit has really grown on me, raising my rating to a solid 4 stars. Now, when I get in the mood for “heavy on the sherry,” nothing else satisfies. :)

I was very happy to buy this bottle from a private party recently. The label on this older Lagavulin 16 displays the “White Horse Distillers” designation making it at least 20 years old. The phrase was dropped as a result of the Diageo merger of 1997. Jim Murray’s Whisky Bible contends Lagavulin reduced the phenol level of their distillates years ago from 50ppm to 35ppm, and this became noticeable in the last decade. I have tended to agree; however, my visit to the distillery last fall yielded no such concession. This purchase was an attempt to confirm these opinions once and for all. The previous owner claimed the bottle had been lying on its side in a darkened wine bin for at least two decades and a high whisky level in the neck verified a good seal. Matching glencairns were used to compare its color against the current generation, and this produced identical results. With the naked eye, the slightest variation of amber gold could not be detected, providing good indication of great care being taken to insure consistency over time. Comparing the nose was also surprising as the differences were minimal and only confirmed after four different sittings. Perplexingly, the new Lagavulin was a slight degree smokier than its predecessor, displaying a measure of fresh smoked barley that was reminiscent of the Islay distillery tours. This seemed worn off with the White Horse offering and allowed elements of sweet sherry to shine through adding a layer of sophistication. Any differences in the palate were imperceptible and confirmed through several blind tastings. My conclusion: memories are sometimes better than reality! :)

I still remember climbing a few short steps to get a look inside of Springbank’s century old mash tun. A hundred years of patina creates a black void that stretches for miles. A similarly aged spirit safe contains enough copper oxidation to compete with New England’s oldest weathervanes. And dunnage style aging forms a mineral infused atmosphere that saturates the wood year after year. This combination of molecules cannot be simulated short of the time necessary to produce them. Factor in traditional malting floors and it all results in a whisky so distinctive it might easily be recognized in a blind tasting of a hundred drams. The first alcoholic whiff brings me back to the bottling room where a handful of industrious people still apply labels by hand and inspect each bottle individually. Subtle peat smoke recalls images of a noble kiln that’s weathered by decades of usage. Sweet vanilla and malted barley are accompanied by an earthy, oaken, sulfurous, farmland personality that’s unmistakable. An oily palate translates the sweetness into both fresh picked and dried fruits, toffee, salted nuts, prickly pepper, and cocoa bean. A wonderful, lengthy finish turns up dry Fino sherry, more pepper, and a final hint of cabbage water…..all spectacular. If it weren’t for my blatant Islay prejudice, I might safely rate this at 5 stars. :)

16th century English poet, Thomas Tusser, once wrote, “A fool and his money are soon parted.” Apparently, what was true 500 years ago still applies today, as I’m here to say #358 of 1,868 is mine. It makes a nice museum piece. :)

At 49.2% ABV, the rusty gold spirit sticks to the side of the glass like honey, confirming a majority stake in well aged Clynelish. The first pass of a 5-star nose is greeted by ethanol appearing younger and more vibrant than it should for a blended malt averaging 23.41 years. Juicy Fruit bubblegum and candle wax break through first, followed by vanilla, fresh orchard fruits, and hazel nuts. Despite a tithe portion of Talisker, little hint of smokiness could be found, probably due to 20 years of sherry butt aging. A luscious mouth feel gives way to honeyed vanilla, baked apples, cinnamon, nutmeg, zesty citrus, and peppery effervescence. A dry, lengthy finish is dominated by more spice, oak tannins, and pepper. A little heavy on the pepper side (quality casks) has this one falling an iota short of 5 stars, but still a tremendous Compass Box expression. A few more days of oxidation may tame the pepper.

Hovering above the glass, a delicate peat smoke really lets the essence of Islay shine through. A soft ocean breeze is mixed with farmland scents of fresh cut hay and nearby livestock. Descending further, the malt predominates accompanied by honeyed vanilla and a swirl of fruitiness. Very pleased to this point, a spin of the glass and its light gold spirit reveals viscous, hard forming legs. Wow, the ferry is pulling into Port Askaig, and I can’t wait to disembark into the arms of the Caol Ila distillery only furlongs away. The first taste of sweet vanilla, however, is suddenly interrupted by a loud crash into a nearby reef. The welcoming shore beckons, yet here we are manning the lifeboats for what will be a harsh and bitter finish to an otherwise pleasant journey now peppered in disappointment. Already watered to 43% ABV, I didn’t bother to know what more would bring. Dismayed, I pulled out Jim Murray’s Whiskey Bible only to see a meager rating of 80 for the 18yo; whereas, he rated the 30yo at 96.5. I remember liking a bottle of Caol Ila 12yo many moons ago, so I’m glad this was only a sample from the Whisky Exchange. An excellent nose marks this one at 3.25 stars.

Simply amazing! This whisky is genius. The nose spins like a kaleidoscope of dizzying fragrances. Crisp, clean, dry sherry; probably both Oloroso and Fino, as the 4 components that make up this marriage spent their entire maturation in sherry butts. Rich, varnish like ethanol confirms old wood and an average age of blended whiskies calculated at 25.53 years. The blended grain piece exceeds 30 years in sherry with individual constituents spending additional time in unknown barrel types. As the wheel continues to turn an entire fruit basket of fruits and nuts arrives at your door in an awesome celebration of life. The composition is so delectable you’re not sure which piece to pick off first. This is followed by, I swear, elements of both bourbon and rye spiciness wrapped in honeyed vanilla. The complexity seems incomprehensible. If ever I’ve experienced a non-smoky whisky better than this, I know not when. The natural, amber colored liquid hits the tongue so smoothly that it belies its 49% ABV backbone. What can I say, it’s a rich and luscious medley of everything previously described that finishes extraordinarily well. Curiosity hints at a drop of water, but my mind is convinced the earth’s entire supply has vanished and won’t be available again until the next good rain. Good grief, I will have to suffer in ecstasy until then. 5 stars!

The first time I laid eyes on the cask strength (57.3% ABV) Peat Monster in the 1.75L bottle, I was star struck. The thing looks magnificent. They should have one sitting on a pedestal next to Michelangelo’s David in Florence. I managed to scoff up a few of the 1,985 produced, but have hastened to open one due to the attractiveness and sheer volume of whisky needing consumption. As an alternative, I went out and bought the regular Peat Monster (46% ABV), which I recently finished. I assumed Compass Box used the same formula for both whiskies, but I was wrong. Essentially, the cask strength is 40% Laphroaig, 31% Caol Ila, 20% Ardmore, with the remaining being Ledaig and their Highland Malt Blend. The regular Peat Monster is 54% Caol Ila, 34% Laphroaig, with the remaining being Ardmore, Ledaig, and their Highland Malt blend. The average ages of both blended malts are roughly 8 years. Additionally, the Laphroaig in the CS spent its time in re-charred hogshead versus refill for the regular PM. These variations have probably introduced a different dynamic between the two that @LeeEvolved has pointed out in his reviews of both. The regular Peat Monster is a great dram with a good level of smokiness and complexity, but simply not in the 5-star category as its kindred No Name. The nose is a mild ashy smoke, sea spray, lemon citrus, and slightly sweet vanilla. This all carries through nicely to the palate and finishes respectably with no hint of bitterness. Easily, a 4-star dram. Soon, I hope to crack open one of the big boys to see how it compares