Tastes

AGED WHISKY SHOWDOWN Bowmore 18 Highland Park 19 Dimensions (Duncan Taylor) Balvenie Portwood 21 Kirkland Speyside Single Malt 22 (Alexander Murray) Continuing to work through bottles in my collection that I’ve yet to review. This grouping is admittedly somewhat incongruous, with Islay (Bowmore), Highland (Highland Park), and two Speysides (Balvenie, Kirkland). The common denominator is the age statements, which range from 18 to 22 years. As with previous “Showdowns,” the point here isn’t to necessarily declare an absolute winner (though one may arise), but rather to experience an interesting comparison and share those results. I’ve arranged these from youngest to oldest. Bowmore 18 Color is second darkest of the group, and virtually identical to the Balvenie 21: clear Pantone 153. Nose shows banana bread, and some mild Islay typicity with light iodine, saline, and gentle peaty smoke. The palate shows the slightest bit of roundness but the fruit drops off and a little white pepper spice kicks in. Something akin to passionfruit begins the medium-length finish, which is then usurped by some light char and smoke, but the overall effect is thin; almost watery. Unfortunately, Bowmore 18 has caramel coloring added. I really have no idea why any distillery would want to do this. It detracts from the overall experience: burning peat to malt the barley is as old-school as Scotch whisky gets. This is an 18-year-old whisky, which cannot be faked: why adulterate the age, tradition, and experience with adding coloring? It boggles the mind. Bowmore 18 can be found for around $150 today. It’s certainly not off-putting, but it’s also not particularly memorable, and the added coloring is for all intents and purposes lying. What is the point? What is there to hide? What is the rationale? Would I buy it again? No: on both a price/value basis and disdain for their coloring practice. 3.0 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Highland Park 19 Dimensions (Duncan Taylor) This whisky is the lightest of the group in color, and appears analogous to Pantone 130. The nose is a bit reticent, begrudgingly offering up apples, honey, apricots, a cool eucalyptus note, and a medicinal quality that is likely ethanol-driven; the effect is not dissimilar to the Hall’s honey-lemon cough-drop aromatics that I get from Nikka Coffey Malt Whisky (reviewed Sep 21, 2023). But then cocoa makes an appearance. The palate turns up the volume considerably on the initial aromatics, and shows some viscosity. The transition from palate to finish brings generous spiciness, coffee, the cocoa again, and very gentle, lingering smoke. The Highland Park 19 Dimensions is a whisky that requires time in order to coax out its complexities. The bottle was a very generous gift from a good friend, so the question is not whether I’d buy it again, but rather if I’d buy it at all. It can be purchased for around $225—if you can find it. I’d put it in the nice-to-have rather than must-have category (with the caveat that there really is no “must” regarding any whisk(e)y in the grand scheme of things). It’s wonderful if you’re price-insensitive, and I’m very grateful to have it. I no longer possess any Highland Park 18, which would be an obvious (and interesting) comparison. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. 52.7% ABV. Non-chill filtered. Distilled 6/1999; bottled 6/2018. Cask # 501104; Bottle # 236/352. The light color suggests no added coloring. Balvenie Portwood 21 Clear Pantone 153 in color; indistinguishable from the Bowmore 18. The nose is cautious, and like Carl Sandberg’s “Fog,” comes in on little cat feet, displaying a feline oscillation that wavers between port and deep chocolate—just because it wants to—and adds mocha, sandalwood, and honey. The palate is a slow roll into more chocolate, which nearly conceals the alcohol; there’s no real spice in the transition from palate to finish, which is long and chocolaty. Did I mention chocolate? For me, Balvenie is a traditional benchmark whisky with a modern twist—that twist being the various wood finishes it employs (rum, sherry, port). It combines tradition and modernity in a style that favors tradition in terms of its poise and refinement. It exhibits a confidence that has no need for self-aggrandizement. The Portwood 21 is consistent with that Balvenie ethos. This whisky is not cheap, and can currently be purchased for around $300. Would I buy it again? I paid significantly less when I bought it, but if price were not an issue, the answer is yes (to be clear, I would not buy every whisk(e)y, even with unlimited funds). Balvenie Portwood 21 is wonderfully cerebral, in part because it’s a little monochromatic in its chocolatiness, and it requires some thinking if you want to dissect it. Or, you can just enjoy the chocolate milkshake. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Kirkland Speyside Single Malt 22 (Alexander Murray) This whisky is the darkest of the bunch, consistent with the sherry cask finishing; clear Pantone 160. No-doubt sherry nose: toffee, chocolate, dates, strawberry preserves, and dark gingerbread (the bread, not the cookies). Cracker Jack times two. The palate shows wonderful intensity, finishing long and sweet, with chocolate, peanut brittle, and a pleasant touch of sweet café Cubano, with its basso continuo espresso bitterness. Costco is the largest liquor retailer in the world, and as a result has the wherewithal to affix its Kirkland brand to high-quality white-label offerings, as is the case here. Purists may want to turn up their collective noses, but there’s no arguing the value aspect. Who knows how Alexander Murray sourced this? But the fact that it is sourced doesn’t necessarily mean that it didn’t make the cut for whoever the distiller is, and even if that is the case, the point is moot: how many very nice 22-year-old whiskies are you going to find for $80? One. This one. Would I buy it again? I don’t think that this expression is available any longer, but I bought two when I purchased them, and this one is bottle #1. So, yes. Unbelievable value. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. 46% ABV. In terms of price, the Kirkland (Costco) stole the show with its 22-year age statement and $80 price tag. The Highland Park and Balvenie bottlings were each wonderful, for different reasons. The Bowmore was demonstrably inferior to the other three—independent of its “islay-ness” (I adore Laphroaig and Lagavullin). I concluded the tasting with one final single taste of each one in quick succession, and confirmed by more lengthy assessments. The Bowmore is unchanged; the Highland Park is by far the most powerful and youthful; the Balvenie is expansive and orgasmic; and the Kirkland is still very, very good. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

AGED WHISKY SHOWDOWN Bowmore 18 Highland Park 19 Dimensions (Duncan Taylor) Balvenie Portwood 21 Kirkland Speyside Single Malt 22 (Alexander Murray) Continuing to work through bottles in my collection that I’ve yet to review. This grouping is admittedly somewhat incongruous, with Islay (Bowmore), Highland (Highland Park), and two Speysides (Balvenie, Kirkland). The common denominator is the age statements, which range from 18 to 22 years. As with previous “Showdowns,” the point here isn’t to necessarily declare an absolute winner (though one may arise), but rather to experience an interesting comparison and share those results. I’ve arranged these from youngest to oldest. Bowmore 18 Color is second darkest of the group, and virtually identical to the Balvenie 21: clear Pantone 153. Nose shows banana bread, and some mild Islay typicity with light iodine, saline, and gentle peaty smoke. The palate shows the slightest bit of roundness but the fruit drops off and a little white pepper spice kicks in. Something akin to passionfruit begins the medium-length finish, which is then usurped by some light char and smoke, but the overall effect is thin; almost watery. Unfortunately, Bowmore 18 has caramel coloring added. I really have no idea why any distillery would want to do this. It detracts from the overall experience: burning peat to malt the barley is as old-school as Scotch whisky gets. This is an 18-year-old whisky, which cannot be faked: why adulterate the age, tradition, and experience with adding coloring? It boggles the mind. Bowmore 18 can be found for around $150 today. It’s certainly not off-putting, but it’s also not particularly memorable, and the added coloring is for all intents and purposes lying. What is the point? What is there to hide? What is the rationale? Would I buy it again? No: on both a price/value basis and disdain for their coloring practice. 3.0 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Highland Park 19 Dimensions (Duncan Taylor) This whisky is the lightest of the group in color, and appears analogous to Pantone 130. The nose is a bit reticent, begrudgingly offering up apples, honey, apricots, a cool eucalyptus note, and a medicinal quality that is likely ethanol-driven; the effect is not dissimilar to the Hall’s honey-lemon cough-drop aromatics that I get from Nikka Coffey Malt Whisky (reviewed Sep 21, 2023). But then cocoa makes an appearance. The palate turns up the volume considerably on the initial aromatics, and shows some viscosity. The transition from palate to finish brings generous spiciness, coffee, the cocoa again, and very gentle, lingering smoke. The Highland Park 19 Dimensions is a whisky that requires time in order to coax out its complexities. The bottle was a very generous gift from a good friend, so the question is not whether I’d buy it again, but rather if I’d buy it at all. It can be purchased for around $225—if you can find it. I’d put it in the nice-to-have rather than must-have category (with the caveat that there really is no “must” regarding any whisk(e)y in the grand scheme of things). It’s wonderful if you’re price-insensitive, and I’m very grateful to have it. I no longer possess any Highland Park 18, which would be an obvious (and interesting) comparison. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. 52.7% ABV. Non-chill filtered. Distilled 6/1999; bottled 6/2018. Cask # 501104; Bottle # 236/352. The light color suggests no added coloring. Balvenie Portwood 21 Clear Pantone 153 in color; indistinguishable from the Bowmore 18. The nose is cautious, and like Carl Sandberg’s “Fog,” comes in on little cat feet, displaying a feline oscillation that wavers between port and deep chocolate—just because it wants to—and adds mocha, sandalwood, and honey. The palate is a slow roll into more chocolate, which nearly conceals the alcohol; there’s no real spice in the transition from palate to finish, which is long and chocolaty. Did I mention chocolate? For me, Balvenie is a traditional benchmark whisky with a modern twist—that twist being the various wood finishes it employs (rum, sherry, port). It combines tradition and modernity in a style that favors tradition in terms of its poise and refinement. It exhibits a confidence that has no need for self-aggrandizement. The Portwood 21 is consistent with that Balvenie ethos. This whisky is not cheap, and can currently be purchased for around $300. Would I buy it again? I paid significantly less when I bought it, but if price were not an issue, the answer is yes (to be clear, I would not buy every whisk(e)y, even with unlimited funds). Balvenie Portwood 21 is wonderfully cerebral, in part because it’s a little monochromatic in its chocolatiness, and it requires some thinking if you want to dissect it. Or, you can just enjoy the chocolate milkshake. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Kirkland Speyside Single Malt 22 (Alexander Murray) This whisky is the darkest of the bunch, consistent with the sherry cask finishing; clear Pantone 160. No-doubt sherry nose: toffee, chocolate, dates, strawberry preserves, and dark gingerbread (the bread, not the cookies). Cracker Jack times two. The palate shows wonderful intensity, finishing long and sweet, with chocolate, peanut brittle, and a pleasant touch of sweet café Cubano, with its basso continuo espresso bitterness. Costco is the largest liquor retailer in the world, and as a result has the wherewithal to affix its Kirkland brand to high-quality white-label offerings, as is the case here. Purists may want to turn up their collective noses, but there’s no arguing the value aspect. Who knows how Alexander Murray sourced this? But the fact that it is sourced doesn’t necessarily mean that it didn’t make the cut for whoever the distiller is, and even if that is the case, the point is moot: how many very nice 22-year-old whiskies are you going to find for $80? One. This one. Would I buy it again? I don’t think that this expression is available any longer, but I bought two when I purchased them, and this one is bottle #1. So, yes. Unbelievable value. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. 46% ABV. In terms of price, the Kirkland (Costco) stole the show with its 22-year age statement and $80 price tag. The Highland Park and Balvenie bottlings were each wonderful, for different reasons. The Bowmore was demonstrably inferior to the other three—independent of its “islay-ness” (I adore Laphroaig and Lagavullin). I concluded the tasting with one final single taste of each one in quick succession, and confirmed by more lengthy assessments. The Bowmore is unchanged; the Highland Park is by far the most powerful and youthful; the Balvenie is expansive and orgasmic; and the Kirkland is still very, very good. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

AGED WHISKY SHOWDOWN Bowmore 18 Highland Park 19 Dimensions (Duncan Taylor) Balvenie Portwood 21 Kirkland Speyside Single Malt 22 (Alexander Murray) Continuing to work through bottles in my collection that I’ve yet to review. This grouping is admittedly somewhat incongruous, with Islay (Bowmore), Highland (Highland Park), and two Speysides (Balvenie, Kirkland). The common denominator is the age statements, which range from 18 to 22 years. As with previous “Showdowns,” the point here isn’t to necessarily declare an absolute winner (though one may arise), but rather to experience an interesting comparison and share those results. I’ve arranged these from youngest to oldest. Bowmore 18 Color is second darkest of the group, and virtually identical to the Balvenie 21: clear Pantone 153. Nose shows banana bread, and some mild Islay typicity with light iodine, saline, and gentle peaty smoke. The palate shows the slightest bit of roundness but the fruit drops off and a little white pepper spice kicks in. Something akin to passionfruit begins the medium-length finish, which is then usurped by some light char and smoke, but the overall effect is thin; almost watery. Unfortunately, Bowmore 18 has caramel coloring added. I really have no idea why any distillery would want to do this. It detracts from the overall experience: burning peat to malt the barley is as old-school as Scotch whisky gets. This is an 18-year-old whisky, which cannot be faked: why adulterate the age, tradition, and experience with adding coloring? It boggles the mind. Bowmore 18 can be found for around $150 today. It’s certainly not off-putting, but it’s also not particularly memorable, and the added coloring is for all intents and purposes lying. What is the point? What is there to hide? What is the rationale? Would I buy it again? No: on both a price/value basis and disdain for their coloring practice. 3.0 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Highland Park 19 Dimensions (Duncan Taylor) This whisky is the lightest of the group in color, and appears analogous to Pantone 130. The nose is a bit reticent, begrudgingly offering up apples, honey, apricots, a cool eucalyptus note, and a medicinal quality that is likely ethanol-driven; the effect is not dissimilar to the Hall’s honey-lemon cough-drop aromatics that I get from Nikka Coffey Malt Whisky (reviewed Sep 21, 2023). But then cocoa makes an appearance. The palate turns up the volume considerably on the initial aromatics, and shows some viscosity. The transition from palate to finish brings generous spiciness, coffee, the cocoa again, and very gentle, lingering smoke. The Highland Park 19 Dimensions is a whisky that requires time in order to coax out its complexities. The bottle was a very generous gift from a good friend, so the question is not whether I’d buy it again, but rather if I’d buy it at all. It can be purchased for around $225—if you can find it. I’d put it in the nice-to-have rather than must-have category (with the caveat that there really is no “must” regarding any whisk(e)y in the grand scheme of things). It’s wonderful if you’re price-insensitive, and I’m very grateful to have it. I no longer possess any Highland Park 18, which would be an obvious (and interesting) comparison. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. 52.7% ABV. Non-chill filtered. Distilled 6/1999; bottled 6/2018. Cask # 501104; Bottle # 236/352. The light color suggests no added coloring. Balvenie Portwood 21 Clear Pantone 153 in color; indistinguishable from the Bowmore 18. The nose is cautious, and like Carl Sandberg’s “Fog,” comes in on little cat feet, displaying a feline oscillation that wavers between port and deep chocolate—just because it wants to—and adds mocha, sandalwood, and honey. The palate is a slow roll into more chocolate, which nearly conceals the alcohol; there’s no real spice in the transition from palate to finish, which is long and chocolaty. Did I mention chocolate? For me, Balvenie is a traditional benchmark whisky with a modern twist—that twist being the various wood finishes it employs (rum, sherry, port). It combines tradition and modernity in a style that favors tradition in terms of its poise and refinement. It exhibits a confidence that has no need for self-aggrandizement. The Portwood 21 is consistent with that Balvenie ethos. This whisky is not cheap, and can currently be purchased for around $300. Would I buy it again? I paid significantly less when I bought it, but if price were not an issue, the answer is yes (to be clear, I would not buy every whisk(e)y, even with unlimited funds). Balvenie Portwood 21 is wonderfully cerebral, in part because it’s a little monochromatic in its chocolatiness, and it requires some thinking if you want to dissect it. Or, you can just enjoy the chocolate milkshake. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Kirkland Speyside Single Malt 22 (Alexander Murray) This whisky is the darkest of the bunch, consistent with the sherry cask finishing; clear Pantone 160. No-doubt sherry nose: toffee, chocolate, dates, strawberry preserves, and dark gingerbread (the bread, not the cookies). Cracker Jack times two. The palate shows wonderful intensity, finishing long and sweet, with chocolate, peanut brittle, and a pleasant touch of sweet café Cubano, with its basso continuo espresso bitterness. Costco is the largest liquor retailer in the world, and as a result has the wherewithal to affix its Kirkland brand to high-quality white-label offerings, as is the case here. Purists may want to turn up their collective noses, but there’s no arguing the value aspect. Who knows how Alexander Murray sourced this? But the fact that it is sourced doesn’t necessarily mean that it didn’t make the cut for whoever the distiller is, and even if that is the case, the point is moot: how many very nice 22-year-old whiskies are you going to find for $80? One. This one. Would I buy it again? I don’t think that this expression is available any longer, but I bought two when I purchased them, and this one is bottle #1. So, yes. Unbelievable value. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. 46% ABV. In terms of price, the Kirkland (Costco) stole the show with its 22-year age statement and $80 price tag. The Highland Park and Balvenie bottlings were each wonderful, for different reasons. The Bowmore was demonstrably inferior to the other three—independent of its “islay-ness” (I adore Laphroaig and Lagavullin). I concluded the tasting with one final single taste of each one in quick succession, and confirmed by more lengthy assessments. The Bowmore is unchanged; the Highland Park is by far the most powerful and youthful; the Balvenie is expansive and orgasmic; and the Kirkland is still very, very good. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

AGED WHISKY SHOWDOWN Bowmore 18 Highland Park 19 Dimensions (Duncan Taylor) Balvenie Portwood 21 Kirkland Speyside Single Malt 22 (Alexander Murray) Continuing to work through bottles in my collection that I’ve yet to review. This grouping is admittedly somewhat incongruous, with Islay (Bowmore), Highland (Highland Park), and two Speysides (Balvenie, Kirkland). The common denominator is the age statements, which range from 18 to 22 years. As with previous “Showdowns,” the point here isn’t to necessarily declare an absolute winner (though one may arise), but rather to experience an interesting comparison and share those results. I’ve arranged these from youngest to oldest. Bowmore 18 Color is second darkest of the group, and virtually identical to the Balvenie 21: clear Pantone 153. Nose shows banana bread, and some mild Islay typicity with light iodine, saline, and gentle peaty smoke. The palate shows the slightest bit of roundness but the fruit drops off and a little white pepper spice kicks in. Something akin to passionfruit begins the medium-length finish, which is then usurped by some light char and smoke, but the overall effect is thin; almost watery. Unfortunately, Bowmore 18 has caramel coloring added. I really have no idea why any distillery would want to do this. It detracts from the overall experience: burning peat to malt the barley is as old-school as Scotch whisky gets. This is an 18-year-old whisky, which cannot be faked: why adulterate the age, tradition, and experience with adding coloring? It boggles the mind. Bowmore 18 can be found for around $150 today. It’s certainly not off-putting, but it’s also not particularly memorable, and the added coloring is for all intents and purposes lying. What is the point? What is there to hide? What is the rationale? Would I buy it again? No: on both a price/value basis and disdain for their coloring practice. 3.0 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Highland Park 19 Dimensions (Duncan Taylor) This whisky is the lightest of the group in color, and appears analogous to Pantone 130. The nose is a bit reticent, begrudgingly offering up apples, honey, apricots, a cool eucalyptus note, and a medicinal quality that is likely ethanol-driven; the effect is not dissimilar to the Hall’s honey-lemon cough-drop aromatics that I get from Nikka Coffey Malt Whisky (reviewed Sep 21, 2023). But then cocoa makes an appearance. The palate turns up the volume considerably on the initial aromatics, and shows some viscosity. The transition from palate to finish brings generous spiciness, coffee, the cocoa again, and very gentle, lingering smoke. The Highland Park 19 Dimensions is a whisky that requires time in order to coax out its complexities. The bottle was a very generous gift from a good friend, so the question is not whether I’d buy it again, but rather if I’d buy it at all. It can be purchased for around $225—if you can find it. I’d put it in the nice-to-have rather than must-have category (with the caveat that there really is no “must” regarding any whisk(e)y in the grand scheme of things). It’s wonderful if you’re price-insensitive, and I’m very grateful to have it. I no longer possess any Highland Park 18, which would be an obvious (and interesting) comparison. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. 52.7% ABV. Non-chill filtered. Distilled 6/1999; bottled 6/2018. Cask # 501104; Bottle # 236/352. The light color suggests no added coloring. Balvenie Portwood 21 Clear Pantone 153 in color; indistinguishable from the Bowmore 18. The nose is cautious, and like Carl Sandberg’s “Fog,” comes in on little cat feet, displaying a feline oscillation that wavers between port and deep chocolate—just because it wants to—and adds mocha, sandalwood, and honey. The palate is a slow roll into more chocolate, which nearly conceals the alcohol; there’s no real spice in the transition from palate to finish, which is long and chocolaty. Did I mention chocolate? For me, Balvenie is a traditional benchmark whisky with a modern twist—that twist being the various wood finishes it employs (rum, sherry, port). It combines tradition and modernity in a style that favors tradition in terms of its poise and refinement. It exhibits a confidence that has no need for self-aggrandizement. The Portwood 21 is consistent with that Balvenie ethos. This whisky is not cheap, and can currently be purchased for around $300. Would I buy it again? I paid significantly less when I bought it, but if price were not an issue, the answer is yes (to be clear, I would not buy every whisk(e)y, even with unlimited funds). Balvenie Portwood 21 is wonderfully cerebral, in part because it’s a little monochromatic in its chocolatiness, and it requires some thinking if you want to dissect it. Or, you can just enjoy the chocolate milkshake. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Kirkland Speyside Single Malt 22 (Alexander Murray) This whisky is the darkest of the bunch, consistent with the sherry cask finishing; clear Pantone 160. No-doubt sherry nose: toffee, chocolate, dates, strawberry preserves, and dark gingerbread (the bread, not the cookies). Cracker Jack times two. The palate shows wonderful intensity, finishing long and sweet, with chocolate, peanut brittle, and a pleasant touch of sweet café Cubano, with its basso continuo espresso bitterness. Costco is the largest liquor retailer in the world, and as a result has the wherewithal to affix its Kirkland brand to high-quality white-label offerings, as is the case here. Purists may want to turn up their collective noses, but there’s no arguing the value aspect. Who knows how Alexander Murray sourced this? But the fact that it is sourced doesn’t necessarily mean that it didn’t make the cut for whoever the distiller is, and even if that is the case, the point is moot: how many very nice 22-year-old whiskies are you going to find for $80? One. This one. Would I buy it again? I don’t think that this expression is available any longer, but I bought two when I purchased them, and this one is bottle #1. So, yes. Unbelievable value. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. 46% ABV. In terms of price, the Kirkland (Costco) stole the show with its 22-year age statement and $80 price tag. The Highland Park and Balvenie bottlings were each wonderful, for different reasons. The Bowmore was demonstrably inferior to the other three—independent of its “islay-ness” (I adore Laphroaig and Lagavullin). I concluded the tasting with one final single taste of each one in quick succession, and confirmed by more lengthy assessments. The Bowmore is unchanged; the Highland Park is by far the most powerful and youthful; the Balvenie is expansive and orgasmic; and the Kirkland is still very, very good. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

MOONSHINE SHOWDOWN Buffalo Trace White Dog Mash #1 Buffalo Trace White Dog Wheated Mash Continuing to work through bottles in my collection that I’ve yet to review. “White Dog” is the name given to distillate straight from the tap. I bought these a few years ago, as I was interested in the foundations of the distillation process. I recall being less than impressed—this from the perspective of someone who has had moonshine more than once—so I’m taking one for the team here and seeing if I can find some value beyond mere intellectual interest. Buffalo Trace White Dog Mash #1 Color is gin-clear, as this distillate has never been in contact with wood. Nose is warm and inviting, and shows sweet corn, Cheerios, and sweet yeast rolls. The ethanol manifests itself not unlike Italian grappa. Mouthfeel shows significant viscosity, and there is continued corn sweetness on the palate, as well as that grappa taste—but with none of the paint-thinner bitterness that grappa often has. The finish is short, and there is a little burn, but not out of sync with the high proof. The overall impression is one of warmth and fullness. It’s actually not one-dimensional: sweetness, warmth, and bready elements are apparent. It’s quite interesting to acquaint oneself with the foundational characteristics of a distillate, before the wood maturation; it’s the wood that provides the majority of a whisk(e)y’s aromatics and flavors. Buffalo Trace White Dog Mash #1 can be found for a little over $15 (for a 375ml bottle). Would I buy it again? It’s not at the top of the list, but the answer is yes: it is unique conversation starter that not only offers educational insight, but is also inexpensive and can actually be consumed. 2.5 on the Distiller scale. 125 proof. NAS because there is none. Buffalo Trace White Dog Wheated Mash Like the White Dog Mash #1, the White Dog Wheated Mash is as clear as purified water; there has been no barrel aging whatsoever. The nose is different than the Mash #1: think of opening the bag that contains your favorite loaf of wheat bread and inhaling deeply. That, and peanuts. The sweet corn is underneath. Not quite as oily on the palate as the Mash #1, but it’s not thin like water. Ethanol is evident on the nose, palate, and finish. The spiciness is slightly higher than the Mash #1, even though the Wheated Mash is 11 proof points lower. There is a lingering alcohol burn, longer than the Mash #1. The Wheated Mash is not as round and warming as the Mash #1. It can also be found for around $15 (for a 375ml bottle). Would I buy it again? I don’t like it as much as the Mash #1, but I would buy it as well for the intellectual exercise alone. 2.25 on the Distiller scale. 114 proof. NAS because there is none. I’m not aware of any other distillery that sells White Dog at retail. It is sold in half-sized 375ml bottles; thus it would appear that it is being sold more for educational purposes than anything else. Buffalo Trace is to be commended for this. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

MOONSHINE SHOWDOWN Buffalo Trace White Dog Mash #1 Buffalo Trace White Dog Wheated Mash Continuing to work through bottles in my collection that I’ve yet to review. “White Dog” is the name given to distillate straight from the tap. I bought these a few years ago, as I was interested in the foundations of the distillation process. I recall being less than impressed—this from the perspective of someone who has had moonshine more than once—so I’m taking one for the team here and seeing if I can find some value beyond mere intellectual interest. Buffalo Trace White Dog Mash #1 Color is gin-clear, as this distillate has never been in contact with wood. Nose is warm and inviting, and shows sweet corn, Cheerios, and sweet yeast rolls. The ethanol manifests itself not unlike Italian grappa. Mouthfeel shows significant viscosity, and there is continued corn sweetness on the palate, as well as that grappa taste—but with none of the paint-thinner bitterness that grappa often has. The finish is short, and there is a little burn, but not out of sync with the high proof. The overall impression is one of warmth and fullness. It’s actually not one-dimensional: sweetness, warmth, and bready elements are apparent. It’s quite interesting to acquaint oneself with the foundational characteristics of a distillate, before the wood maturation; it’s the wood that provides the majority of a whisk(e)y’s aromatics and flavors. Buffalo Trace White Dog Mash #1 can be found for a little over $15 (for a 375ml bottle). Would I buy it again? It’s not at the top of the list, but the answer is yes: it is unique conversation starter that not only offers educational insight, but is also inexpensive and can actually be consumed. 2.5 on the Distiller scale. 125 proof. NAS because there is none. Buffalo Trace White Dog Wheated Mash Like the White Dog Mash #1, the White Dog Wheated Mash is as clear as purified water; there has been no barrel aging whatsoever. The nose is different than the Mash #1: think of opening the bag that contains your favorite loaf of wheat bread and inhaling deeply. That, and peanuts. The sweet corn is underneath. Not quite as oily on the palate as the Mash #1, but it’s not thin like water. Ethanol is evident on the nose, palate, and finish. The spiciness is slightly higher than the Mash #1, even though the Wheated Mash is 11 proof points lower. There is a lingering alcohol burn, longer than the Mash #1. The Wheated Mash is not as round and warming as the Mash #1. It can also be found for around $15 (for a 375ml bottle). Would I buy it again? I don’t like it as much as the Mash #1, but I would buy it as well for the intellectual exercise alone. 2.25 on the Distiller scale. 114 proof. NAS because there is none. I’m not aware of any other distillery that sells White Dog at retail. It is sold in half-sized 375ml bottles; thus it would appear that it is being sold more for educational purposes than anything else. Buffalo Trace is to be commended for this. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

ABERLOUR SHOWDOWN Aberlour 16 Aberlour 18 Continuing to work through whiskies in my collection that I’ve not yet reviewed. In this particular case, I wrote a brief review the Aberlour 18 over a year ago, so it seems appropriate to review it with its younger sibling. I’ve owned the 12-year-old expression, and I wanted to include it, but apparently it was drained some time ago. Then I thought about including a couple of bottles of the Aberlour A’Bunadh, but since those are cask-strength bottlings, they are a bit incongruous with these, and are better reviewed on their own. Aberlour characterizes these whiskies as “double cask matured,” beginning their maturation in American oak casks, and finishing them in sherry oak casks. Aberlour 16 Clear sherry-influenced mahogany color; Pantone 153. Nose is a little muted, especially compared to the 18-year, but still shows Luxardo cherries, chocolate, nutmeg, and gentle spearmint coolness. Palate has some toffee and orange bitters, leading to a low-alcohol modest spice, and a little espresso bitterness on the short to medium finish. I purchased this, my first and only bottle of the 16, along with the 12, because I was in love with the cask-strength A’Bunadh, and already appreciated the 18. Frankly, when I purchased them I’d not paid attention to the fact that both the 12-year and 16-year were bottled at only 40% ABV. I’ve mentioned in several reviews my disdain for the focus on economics that this bare-minimum ABV represents. The 16-year-old can be found for about $120, and as such, is expensive for a 40% ABV whisky. It’s a sweet and approachable expression of a solid sherry-casked whisky. But would I buy it again? No. 3.5 on the Distiller scale, considering the poor value. 40% ABV. Batch AB16-1-19 Aberlour 18 Color virtually identical to the 16-year, despite another two years of aging; Pantone 153. The nose is fuller and richer than the 16: molasses, toffee, orange bitters, dark butterscotch, and mulled cider. The palate is far more expansive than the 16-year, with a more intense burnt orange and toffee, along with some sweet molasses from the nose. The finish shows a pleasant espresso bitterness, similar to the 16, but more robust. The higher ABV is apparent. The 18 can be found for around $200. Would I buy it again? Yes, if I’m not price-sensitive. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Unlike the 16-year, no batch number; this is an older bottle, with the older label, which didn’t include batch numbers. I don’t know if the newer bottlings include batch numbers. Compared to the 16-year-old, I would speculate that the 18-year-old’s higher ABV contributes as much, if not more, than the extra two years of aging (which is not that much in the cool and damp Scotch whisky aging process). This in turn begs the question of the purpose of a 16-year with the same 40% ABV of the 12-year, situated between the 12 and the 18. For most age-statement Scotch whiskies, a 10- or 12-year represents the entry-level offering. A bottling with 16 years of age is closer to 18 years than 12. Why offer the 16 at the same 40% ABV as the entry-level 12? Or, why offer (theoretically) a 16-year-old at the same 43% ABV as the 18? Neither make sense to me from a brand perspective. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

ABERLOUR SHOWDOWN Aberlour 16 Aberlour 18 Continuing to work through whiskies in my collection that I’ve not yet reviewed. In this particular case, I wrote a brief review the Aberlour 18 over a year ago, so it seems appropriate to review it with its younger sibling. I’ve owned the 12-year-old expression, and I wanted to include it, but apparently it was drained some time ago. Then I thought about including a couple of bottles of the Aberlour A’Bunadh, but since those are cask-strength bottlings, they are a bit incongruous with these, and are better reviewed on their own. Aberlour characterizes these whiskies as “double cask matured,” beginning their maturation in American oak casks, and finishing them in sherry oak casks. Aberlour 16 Clear sherry-influenced mahogany color; Pantone 153. Nose is a little muted, especially compared to the 18-year, but still shows Luxardo cherries, chocolate, nutmeg, and gentle spearmint coolness. Palate has some toffee and orange bitters, leading to a low-alcohol modest spice, and a little espresso bitterness on the short to medium finish. I purchased this, my first and only bottle of the 16, along with the 12, because I was in love with the cask-strength A’Bunadh, and already appreciated the 18. Frankly, when I purchased them I’d not paid attention to the fact that both the 12-year and 16-year were bottled at only 40% ABV. I’ve mentioned in several reviews my disdain for the focus on economics that this bare-minimum ABV represents. The 16-year-old can be found for about $120, and as such, is expensive for a 40% ABV whisky. It’s a sweet and approachable expression of a solid sherry-casked whisky. But would I buy it again? No. 3.5 on the Distiller scale, considering the poor value. 40% ABV. Batch AB16-1-19 Aberlour 18 Color virtually identical to the 16-year, despite another two years of aging; Pantone 153. The nose is fuller and richer than the 16: molasses, toffee, orange bitters, dark butterscotch, and mulled cider. The palate is far more expansive than the 16-year, with a more intense burnt orange and toffee, along with some sweet molasses from the nose. The finish shows a pleasant espresso bitterness, similar to the 16, but more robust. The higher ABV is apparent. The 18 can be found for around $200. Would I buy it again? Yes, if I’m not price-sensitive. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. 43% ABV. Unlike the 16-year, no batch number; this is an older bottle, with the older label, which didn’t include batch numbers. I don’t know if the newer bottlings include batch numbers. Compared to the 16-year-old, I would speculate that the 18-year-old’s higher ABV contributes as much, if not more, than the extra two years of aging (which is not that much in the cool and damp Scotch whisky aging process). This in turn begs the question of the purpose of a 16-year with the same 40% ABV of the 12-year, situated between the 12 and the 18. For most age-statement Scotch whiskies, a 10- or 12-year represents the entry-level offering. A bottling with 16 years of age is closer to 18 years than 12. Why offer the 16 at the same 40% ABV as the entry-level 12? Or, why offer (theoretically) a 16-year-old at the same 43% ABV as the 18? Neither make sense to me from a brand perspective. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

TALISKER SHOWDOWN Talisker Storm Talisker 10 Talisker Distiller’s Edition Talisker 18 Continuing to work through whiskies in my collection that I’ve not yet reviewed. I’ve had various Talisker expressions many times over the years—it was one of the first single malts I enjoyed over two decades ago—and again I’m surprised that I’ve yet to review any of them. The four listed above are the ones I currently own. I recall not liking the Storm as much the last time I tried it, and also recall liking the 10-year a bit more than the Distiller’s Edition and the 18-year. On the whole, Talisker has been one of my favorite distillers, not only from my history but also on what I feel to be its own merits. Talisker Storm Rich, bold amber color, akin to Pantone 130. The nose shows sweet honey, apricot, smoky peat, iodine, and salt. There is an immediate spiciness on the palate, with a sweet undernote, and a slightly viscous mouthfeel. The finish is long, and shows a healthy amount of continued white-pepper spiciness, quickly transitioning to some iodine and plenty of smoke, which begins as a smoky peat but also shows char on the long finish. I like the Storm better than I recall. I believe that my prior not-quite-dislike was due to an incorrect belief that it was finished with added wood, like the added staves used by Maker’s Mark in their wood-finished series. At the time, I viewed this negatively, as I was influenced by the use of wood chips by some California wineries, which was viewed as “cheap.” Maker’s Mark has been able to pull off a small miracle with their wood-finished series, which does use added staves, but I have no information that Talisker Storm employs that approach regardless. Talisker Storm is a nice balance of sweetness and smoke. It currently retails for a little over $50. Would I buy it again? Yes, if for no other reason to complement the 10-year. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. NAS. The light color suggests that there is no coloring added, though neither the bottle nor website mention this. 45.8% ABV. Talisker 10 Color is a few shades darker than the Storm; burnt orange, near Pantone 138. The nose is more effusive than the Storm, with an added fruity intensity, showing light honey, some lemon custard, dates, clove, ocean salt, smoky peat, and even a Laphroaig-like Band-Aid aspect. Again, there is a gentle palate viscosity, and added intensity, and an almost-acidic citrus element. The finish lacks the Storm’s length, with lighter smokiness, and also shows a touch of sweet vanilla and orange bitters. I’ve noted in several reviews my distaste for the relatively low ABV in some whiskies; 40% ABV is the minimum allowed, and several distillers bottle at 43%. The higher ABV in each of these Talisker impressions is not only appreciated in terms of a (perceived) focus on craftsmanship vs. economics, but it also amplifies the complex flavors. Talisker 10 is available for around $60 retail. Would I buy it again? Unequivocally. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. Talisker Distiller’s Edition The Distiller’s Edition is darker still than the 10-year, due to the sherry-cask aging; clear Pantone 153. Wonderfully complex nose shows chocolate-covered cherries, bacon jam, a whiff of cool menthol, and evident vanilla, which suppresses (but does not eliminate) the smoky peat of the 10-year. The palate has a little glycerin, honey, dried orange peel, liquified pralines, and Honey-Nut Cheerios. A gentle spiciness leads to a slightly smoky peat, some leather dryness, and a cereal note. The Distiller’s Edition combination of peat and sweet is a kinder, gentler version of an Ardbeg Uigeadail or Corryvreckan, and it reminds me of a story. A few years ago, a friend who was not a whisky enthusiast took me to Milroy’s in London’s SoHo. In order, we had a 60.4% ABV Chichibu bottled exclusively for Milroy’s; a Glenfarclas 24, also for Milroy’s; a Hibiki 21; a Nikka Pure Malt 21; a Glendronach 25; and then the Ardbeg Corry, as I’d wanted him to experience a sweet-peat whisky. It was a mistake, and was entirely incongruous with those that preceded it, rendering the Corry (which I like) offputting. In fact, I may have disabused him of any appreciation of peated whisky as a result (the upside of that is one less purchasing competitor). In hindsight, the Talisker Distiller’s Edition would have been more appropriate, as it shows the same sweet and smoke in a more restrained manner. Would I buy the Talisker Distiller’s Edition again? Yes. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. Diageo’s “Distiller’s Editions” employ additional aging in sherry casks. The Talisker in particular takes the 10-year expression which is then double-matured in Amoroso casks. 45.8% ABV. This bottle distilled in 2009 and bottled in 2019. Talisker 18 The 18-year is lighter in color than the Distiller’s Edition, but darker than the 10-year, which one would expect with eight years of additional age; clear Pantone 144. The nose is sweet, with brown sugar and vanilla, gentle and creamy lemon custard, and very gentle peat smoke. The palate is sweet, but a different sweetness than the Distiller’s Edition: honey, crème brulee, and even a little bananas Foster. The finish is white pepper, which lingers long, as well as some smokiness manifesting as bacon. The peat is there, but it pales in comparison to the Storm (which I tasted again immediately following this). Talisker 18 is a special whisky, and can be found for about $180. For me, it’s more of a special occasion dram. It needs to be appreciated for what it is: an aged whisky from the Isle of Skye which shows the power of the ocean with the finesse of 18 years of aging. Would I buy it again? As long as I had the discretionary income, yes. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. 45.8% ABV, consistent with the other Talisker expressions here. I enjoy writing these “showdown” reviews, but the intent is not necessarily to rank order them, but rather to compare similar whiskies side-by-side in order to better delineate their respective differences and merits (or lack thereof). The general pattern here, from first to last, is decreasing smokiness and increasing complexity. And while my qualitative quantification of scores varies, this is not to state that any of these are intrinsically “better” than any of the others; all are good, but they have differing qualities. I would keep each one on hand. Talisker has a loyal following, and there’s not much I can add to the opinions of those who already enjoy it (I am among that group). The Storm is about smoky peat; the “Storm” naming is apt. The 10-year is about the added complexity of a 10-year age statement (and the “softening” of the smoke). The Distiller’s Edition is about the added sweetness of sherry-cask finishing, and its complex interplay with the peaty smoke. The 18 is about the added complexity of additional aging. With additional age comes less ostentatiousness, and thus more introspection; and on a pensive and cloudy day interspersed with rain, I find that the 18 is the most intellectually rewarding. On the whole, these are very good in the aggregate, but not quite as good as I’d recalled. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

TALISKER SHOWDOWN Talisker Storm Talisker 10 Talisker Distiller’s Edition Talisker 18 Continuing to work through whiskies in my collection that I’ve not yet reviewed. I’ve had various Talisker expressions many times over the years—it was one of the first single malts I enjoyed over two decades ago—and again I’m surprised that I’ve yet to review any of them. The four listed above are the ones I currently own. I recall not liking the Storm as much the last time I tried it, and also recall liking the 10-year a bit more than the Distiller’s Edition and the 18-year. On the whole, Talisker has been one of my favorite distillers, not only from my history but also on what I feel to be its own merits. Talisker Storm Rich, bold amber color, akin to Pantone 130. The nose shows sweet honey, apricot, smoky peat, iodine, and salt. There is an immediate spiciness on the palate, with a sweet undernote, and a slightly viscous mouthfeel. The finish is long, and shows a healthy amount of continued white-pepper spiciness, quickly transitioning to some iodine and plenty of smoke, which begins as a smoky peat but also shows char on the long finish. I like the Storm better than I recall. I believe that my prior not-quite-dislike was due to an incorrect belief that it was finished with added wood, like the added staves used by Maker’s Mark in their wood-finished series. At the time, I viewed this negatively, as I was influenced by the use of wood chips by some California wineries, which was viewed as “cheap.” Maker’s Mark has been able to pull off a small miracle with their wood-finished series, which does use added staves, but I have no information that Talisker Storm employs that approach regardless. Talisker Storm is a nice balance of sweetness and smoke. It currently retails for a little over $50. Would I buy it again? Yes, if for no other reason to complement the 10-year. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. NAS. The light color suggests that there is no coloring added, though neither the bottle nor website mention this. 45.8% ABV. Talisker 10 Color is a few shades darker than the Storm; burnt orange, near Pantone 138. The nose is more effusive than the Storm, with an added fruity intensity, showing light honey, some lemon custard, dates, clove, ocean salt, smoky peat, and even a Laphroaig-like Band-Aid aspect. Again, there is a gentle palate viscosity, and added intensity, and an almost-acidic citrus element. The finish lacks the Storm’s length, with lighter smokiness, and also shows a touch of sweet vanilla and orange bitters. I’ve noted in several reviews my distaste for the relatively low ABV in some whiskies; 40% ABV is the minimum allowed, and several distillers bottle at 43%. The higher ABV in each of these Talisker impressions is not only appreciated in terms of a (perceived) focus on craftsmanship vs. economics, but it also amplifies the complex flavors. Talisker 10 is available for around $60 retail. Would I buy it again? Unequivocally. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. Talisker Distiller’s Edition The Distiller’s Edition is darker still than the 10-year, due to the sherry-cask aging; clear Pantone 153. Wonderfully complex nose shows chocolate-covered cherries, bacon jam, a whiff of cool menthol, and evident vanilla, which suppresses (but does not eliminate) the smoky peat of the 10-year. The palate has a little glycerin, honey, dried orange peel, liquified pralines, and Honey-Nut Cheerios. A gentle spiciness leads to a slightly smoky peat, some leather dryness, and a cereal note. The Distiller’s Edition combination of peat and sweet is a kinder, gentler version of an Ardbeg Uigeadail or Corryvreckan, and it reminds me of a story. A few years ago, a friend who was not a whisky enthusiast took me to Milroy’s in London’s SoHo. In order, we had a 60.4% ABV Chichibu bottled exclusively for Milroy’s; a Glenfarclas 24, also for Milroy’s; a Hibiki 21; a Nikka Pure Malt 21; a Glendronach 25; and then the Ardbeg Corry, as I’d wanted him to experience a sweet-peat whisky. It was a mistake, and was entirely incongruous with those that preceded it, rendering the Corry (which I like) offputting. In fact, I may have disabused him of any appreciation of peated whisky as a result (the upside of that is one less purchasing competitor). In hindsight, the Talisker Distiller’s Edition would have been more appropriate, as it shows the same sweet and smoke in a more restrained manner. Would I buy the Talisker Distiller’s Edition again? Yes. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. Diageo’s “Distiller’s Editions” employ additional aging in sherry casks. The Talisker in particular takes the 10-year expression which is then double-matured in Amoroso casks. 45.8% ABV. This bottle distilled in 2009 and bottled in 2019. Talisker 18 The 18-year is lighter in color than the Distiller’s Edition, but darker than the 10-year, which one would expect with eight years of additional age; clear Pantone 144. The nose is sweet, with brown sugar and vanilla, gentle and creamy lemon custard, and very gentle peat smoke. The palate is sweet, but a different sweetness than the Distiller’s Edition: honey, crème brulee, and even a little bananas Foster. The finish is white pepper, which lingers long, as well as some smokiness manifesting as bacon. The peat is there, but it pales in comparison to the Storm (which I tasted again immediately following this). Talisker 18 is a special whisky, and can be found for about $180. For me, it’s more of a special occasion dram. It needs to be appreciated for what it is: an aged whisky from the Isle of Skye which shows the power of the ocean with the finesse of 18 years of aging. Would I buy it again? As long as I had the discretionary income, yes. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. 45.8% ABV, consistent with the other Talisker expressions here. I enjoy writing these “showdown” reviews, but the intent is not necessarily to rank order them, but rather to compare similar whiskies side-by-side in order to better delineate their respective differences and merits (or lack thereof). The general pattern here, from first to last, is decreasing smokiness and increasing complexity. And while my qualitative quantification of scores varies, this is not to state that any of these are intrinsically “better” than any of the others; all are good, but they have differing qualities. I would keep each one on hand. Talisker has a loyal following, and there’s not much I can add to the opinions of those who already enjoy it (I am among that group). The Storm is about smoky peat; the “Storm” naming is apt. The 10-year is about the added complexity of a 10-year age statement (and the “softening” of the smoke). The Distiller’s Edition is about the added sweetness of sherry-cask finishing, and its complex interplay with the peaty smoke. The 18 is about the added complexity of additional aging. With additional age comes less ostentatiousness, and thus more introspection; and on a pensive and cloudy day interspersed with rain, I find that the 18 is the most intellectually rewarding. On the whole, these are very good in the aggregate, but not quite as good as I’d recalled. N.B.: All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.