Tastes

Had my good friend @ataylor156 over for some good bourbon. From left to right I. The pic, ranked top to bottom (we both have exactly the same ranking): Rabbit Hole Cavehill (#6) George T. Stagg (2019) (#1) William Larue Weller (2019) (#2) Blanton’s Straight from the Barrel (#4) Larceny Barrel Proof (#5) E.H. Taylor Barrel Proof (#3) Not a bad night. 😎

WHISKIES I DON’T CARE FOR: ROUND 2 George Dickel Bottled in Bond vs Hudson Baby Bourbon Whiskey (These first two paragraphs are largely boilerplate from my Round 1 review). Lately I’ve been doing several side-by-side tastings. I have plenty of whisk(e)y that I love—probably too much—but I’ve also got some that I don’t care for, so I thought I’d mix it up and try to discern just what I don’t like about them. My mental shelving of them into the “not like” category means that they’ve been in the penalty box for some time; thus it’s instructive to ascertain whether or not they belonged there to begin with. The whiskies I selected for this round were picked randomly; they happened to be two that I recalled not liking. Unlike some of my other showdowns (Islay, BTAC, etc.), this side-by-side tasting has nothing to do with a specific region or type; rather, both of these are simply two that I haven’t drunk much (if any) because I didn’t care for them to begin with. George Dickel Bottled in Bond This bourbon won Whisky Advocate’s Whisk(e)y of the Year in 2019. (A digression: Whisky Advocate is part of Marvin Shanken’s portfolio of lifestyle magazines, which also includes Wine Spectator, Cigar Afficionado, and other industry publications. WA is not about finding “the best”; rather, it’s about marketing, business and “spreading the love around” so that retailers can have something new to push. To be fair, their methodology for the annual Top 20 excludes so-called “hard to find” whiskies. And of course, whisky and whiskey is anything but monolithic, so the comparison isn’t apples to apples. Are there repeat winners, or even repeat top-20 selections? I can’t find any since the list began in 2017. I love Lagavulin; but how is Lagavulin 11 Offerman Edition--not as good as the Lagavulin 16, or the Lagavulin Distiller's edition--the best of that year on any metric? Of course it doesn’t mean that all of their picks are bad: 2020’s #1, Larceny Barrel Proof, is outstanding. 2018’s #1, Nikka Whisky From the Barrel, is fantastic.2017’s #1, Elijah Craig Barrel Proof B517, is great. This isn’t my subjective opinion; it’s empirical statistical analysis. Five years. 100 whiskies. No duplicates. Dickel BiB was #1 in 2019, but hasn’t been able to crack the top 20 since? ECBP B517 was #1 in 2017, but couldn’t again crack the top 20 in the next five years? Off soapbox). As with all whiskies that win WA’s WOTY, this one got scarce for awhile. I found a bottle during the hype and counted myself lucky. Then I tasted it and put it aside. GD BiB has a 13-year-old age statement. Color is a deep, tawny burnt orange. On the nose there is a quite pronounced—and quite odd—note that many have described as “peanut” but I have described as “Flintstone’s chewable vitamins.” I’ve gotten the same note on the only other Dickel I’ve ever had (the regular 8-year-old expression). This time, I am getting more of the peanut aspect, and there is a certain pervasive richness to it. Perhaps this peanut-cum-Flintstone-vitamin thing is just a polarizing thing, like Julia Child and cilantro. Part of me wants to find something positive to say, like concentrated nectar of Snickers, but I just can’t get myself to say it. There’s also a cool spearmint note. The palate is an improvement: it is smooth and rich, with a chocolate-covered-cherries sweetness. The 100 proof shows itself on the back end of the palate, and continues on the finish, with a pleasant (and expected) bit of heat, finishing with lingering vanilla and additional cool spearmint. GD BiB is smooth and rich. So is clam chowder, and I don’t like clams. But if you like peanuts or children’s chewable vitamins in your whisky, you may like it. 2.5 on the Distiller scale. Of course, there are other polarizing whiskies: one that I love is Woodford Reserve Master’s Collection Five-Malt Stouted Mash (reviewed 5/19/22). But whereas the Woodford was a special project with a specific goal that was (objectively) accomplished, the GD BiB is just…odd. One more thing. I’m not a Dickel fan based on my experience with two of their offerings (I’m stubborn though, and would surely at least try another if it was given to me). My position became more entrenched when I realized that this distiller offers a spirit aged in Tabasco barrels. I say “spirit” because it doesn’t qualify as a whiskey (it’s only 70 proof). Can any whisk(e)y connoisseur take that seriously? For more info on Dickel’s marketing master stroke with Tabasco, enjoy whisky.com’s Ben Luening’s comments (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3wN5CWRHLrk). Skip to 5:17 for the fireworks. Hudson Baby Bourbon Whiskey Apparently this bourbon is now a relic, having been discontinued sometime in the past few years. It appears that Tuthilltown Distillers, which the label describes as the first New York distiller since Prohibition, has been bought by Scotland’s William Grant & Sons, and the offerings have been revamped. This particular bourbon appears to have been replaced by the “Bright Lights, Big Bourbon” brand. This discontinued bottle is only 375ml, 94 proof, “made with 100% New York corn,” and aged “under 4 years” without saying how long. Had I realized the mashbill, I would’ve included it in my “Corn Whiskey Showdown” (6/29/22). The nose is unmistakably corn and oak. The mouthfeel is nice, with a viscous, syrupy quality, along with corn-syrup sweetness. There is some corn sweetness and a little spiciness on the finish. Essentially a one-man band playing the same note. 1.5 on the Distiller scale.

WHISKIES I DON’T CARE FOR: ROUND 2 George Dickel Bottled in Bond vs Hudson Baby Bourbon Whiskey (These first two paragraphs are largely boilerplate from my Round 1 review). Lately I’ve been doing several side-by-side tastings. I have plenty of whisk(e)y that I love—probably too much—but I’ve also got some that I don’t care for, so I thought I’d mix it up and try to discern just what I don’t like about them. My mental shelving of them into the “not like” category means that they’ve been in the penalty box for some time; thus it’s instructive to ascertain whether or not they belonged there to begin with. The whiskies I selected for this round were picked randomly; they happened to be two that I recalled not liking. Unlike some of my other showdowns (Islay, BTAC, etc.), this side-by-side tasting has nothing to do with a specific region or type; rather, both of these are simply two that I haven’t drunk much (if any) because I didn’t care for them to begin with. George Dickel Bottled in Bond This bourbon won Whisky Advocate’s Whisk(e)y of the Year in 2019. (A digression: Whisky Advocate is part of Marvin Shanken’s portfolio of lifestyle magazines, which also includes Wine Spectator, Cigar Afficionado, and other industry publications. WA is not about finding “the best”; rather, it’s about marketing, business and “spreading the love around” so that retailers can have something new to push. To be fair, their methodology for the annual Top 20 excludes so-called “hard to find” whiskies. And of course, whisky and whiskey is anything but monolithic, so the comparison isn’t apples to apples. Are there repeat winners, or even repeat top-20 selections? I can’t find any since the list began in 2017. I love Lagavulin; but how is Lagavulin 11 Offerman Edition--not as good as the Lagavulin 16, or the Lagavulin Distiller's edition--the best of that year on any metric? Of course it doesn’t mean that all of their picks are bad: 2020’s #1, Larceny Barrel Proof, is outstanding. 2018’s #1, Nikka Whisky From the Barrel, is fantastic.2017’s #1, Elijah Craig Barrel Proof B517, is great. This isn’t my subjective opinion; it’s empirical statistical analysis. Five years. 100 whiskies. No duplicates. Dickel BiB was #1 in 2019, but hasn’t been able to crack the top 20 since? ECBP B517 was #1 in 2017, but couldn’t again crack the top 20 in the next five years? Off soapbox). As with all whiskies that win WA’s WOTY, this one got scarce for awhile. I found a bottle during the hype and counted myself lucky. Then I tasted it and put it aside. GD BiB has a 13-year-old age statement. Color is a deep, tawny burnt orange. On the nose there is a quite pronounced—and quite odd—note that many have described as “peanut” but I have described as “Flintstone’s chewable vitamins.” I’ve gotten the same note on the only other Dickel I’ve ever had (the regular 8-year-old expression). This time, I am getting more of the peanut aspect, and there is a certain pervasive richness to it. Perhaps this peanut-cum-Flintstone-vitamin thing is just a polarizing thing, like Julia Child and cilantro. Part of me wants to find something positive to say, like concentrated nectar of Snickers, but I just can’t get myself to say it. There’s also a cool spearmint note. The palate is an improvement: it is smooth and rich, with a chocolate-covered-cherries sweetness. The 100 proof shows itself on the back end of the palate, and continues on the finish, with a pleasant (and expected) bit of heat, finishing with lingering vanilla and additional cool spearmint. GD BiB is smooth and rich. So is clam chowder, and I don’t like clams. But if you like peanuts or children’s chewable vitamins in your whisky, you may like it. 2.5 on the Distiller scale. Of course, there are other polarizing whiskies: one that I love is Woodford Reserve Master’s Collection Five-Malt Stouted Mash (reviewed 5/19/22). But whereas the Woodford was a special project with a specific goal that was (objectively) accomplished, the GD BiB is just…odd. One more thing. I’m not a Dickel fan based on my experience with two of their offerings (I’m stubborn though, and would surely at least try another if it was given to me). My position became more entrenched when I realized that this distiller offers a spirit aged in Tabasco barrels. I say “spirit” because it doesn’t qualify as a whiskey (it’s only 70 proof). Can any whisk(e)y connoisseur take that seriously? For more info on Dickel’s marketing master stroke with Tabasco, enjoy whisky.com’s Ben Luening’s comments (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3wN5CWRHLrk). Skip to 5:17 for the fireworks. Hudson Baby Bourbon Whiskey Apparently this bourbon is now a relic, having been discontinued sometime in the past few years. It appears that Tuthilltown Distillers, which the label describes as the first New York distiller since Prohibition, has been bought by Scotland’s William Grant & Sons, and the offerings have been revamped. This particular bourbon appears to have been replaced by the “Bright Lights, Big Bourbon” brand. This discontinued bottle is only 375ml, 94 proof, “made with 100% New York corn,” and aged “under 4 years” without saying how long. Had I realized the mashbill, I would’ve included it in my “Corn Whiskey Showdown” (6/29/22). The nose is unmistakably corn and oak. The mouthfeel is nice, with a viscous, syrupy quality, along with corn-syrup sweetness. There is some corn sweetness and a little spiciness on the finish. Essentially a one-man band playing the same note. 1.5 on the Distiller scale.

WHISKIES I DON’T CARE FOR: ROUND 1 Flatboat Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey vs Few Bourbon Whiskey Lately I’ve been doing several side-by-side tastings. I have plenty of whisk(e)y that I love—probably too much—but I’ve also got some that I don’t care for, so I thought I’d mix it up and try to discern just what I don’t like about them. My mental shelving of them into the “not like” category means that they’ve been in the penalty box for some time; thus it’s instructive to ascertain whether or not they belonged there to begin with. The whiskies I selected for round one were selected randomly; they happened to be two that I recalled not liking. Unlike some of my other showdowns (Islay, BTAC, etc.), this side-by-side tasting has nothing to do with a specific region or type—these two whiskies do happen to be bourbons, by coincidence—but are simply two that I haven’t drunk much (if any) of because I didn’t care for them to begin with. Flatboat Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey- Flatboat is a private-label brand owned by Sazerac, who manufactures not just Buffalo Trace but Canadian Mist, Myers Rum, Mr. Boston Vodka, and Fireball, to name a few. The salesman where I was shopping at the time sold me on the Buffalo Trace connection, and it was only $22 or so. I bought it and tried it once at least three years ago, and it has remained untouched since then. There’s little information on the label other than the fact that it’s “Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey” and 90 proof. And since there’s no age statement on the bottle, it has to have been aged at least four years. Classic clear tawny orange color. Nose shows a lot of ethanol for 90 proof, along with oaky vanilla, some cinnamon, roasted marshmallow, and cherry pipe tobacco. But the quintet is not playing well together, with the ethanol at center stage and the other aspects competing rather than complementing. On the palate the harsh and undisciplined 90 proof wreaks havoc like an unruly child punching above its weight. There are persistent woody tannins on the finish, which is overcome somewhat by the vanilla and cherry pipe tobacco. Disjointed, but not undrinkable. May work with lots of ice on a hot summer day, or as part of a punch or other drink where the bourbon is only a secondary ingredient. Not good for drinking neat, nor in a Manhattan or Old Fashioned. 2.5 on the Distiller scale. Few Bourbon Whiskey More orangey color than the Flatboat. Nose shows sawdust, old Fruity Pebbles cereal, a petroleum-paraffin quality, and dish soap. The wood is more like pine than oak. The dish soap continues on the palate, like a punishment in search of the bad words that precipitated it. I received this as a gift, and while I greatly appreciate the gesture, it’s just not that good. Not a lot of bourbon typicity. There is a tannic dryness on the finish. The drink does coerce you to pause to try to identify what’s going on with the same kind of curious morbidity surrounding a car wreck. Turns out I was correct in my initial assessment. The bottle says it is aged “at least one year in charred new oak barrels.” Well, yes; to be called bourbon it has to be in new charred oak barrels. Apparently this bottle is no longer available; the website does show a Straight Bourbon Whiskey, which by definition must be aged at least two years. 93 proof. 1.5 on the Distiller scale.

WHISKIES I DON’T CARE FOR: ROUND 1 Flatboat Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey vs Few Bourbon Whiskey Lately I’ve been doing several side-by-side tastings. I have plenty of whisk(e)y that I love—probably too much—but I’ve also got some that I don’t care for, so I thought I’d mix it up and try to discern just what I don’t like about them. My mental shelving of them into the “not like” category means that they’ve been in the penalty box for some time; thus it’s instructive to ascertain whether or not they belonged there to begin with. The whiskies I selected for round one were selected randomly; they happened to be two that I recalled not liking. Unlike some of my other showdowns (Islay, BTAC, etc.), this side-by-side tasting has nothing to do with a specific region or type—these two whiskies do happen to be bourbons, by coincidence—but are simply two that I haven’t drunk much (if any) of because I didn’t care for them to begin with. Flatboat Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey- Flatboat is a private-label brand owned by Sazerac, who manufactures not just Buffalo Trace but Canadian Mist, Myers Rum, Mr. Boston Vodka, and Fireball, to name a few. The salesman where I was shopping at the time sold me on the Buffalo Trace connection, and it was only $22 or so. I bought it and tried it once at least three years ago, and it has remained untouched since then. There’s little information on the label other than the fact that it’s “Kentucky Straight Bourbon Whiskey” and 90 proof. And since there’s no age statement on the bottle, it has to have been aged at least four years. Classic clear tawny orange color. Nose shows a lot of ethanol for 90 proof, along with oaky vanilla, some cinnamon, roasted marshmallow, and cherry pipe tobacco. But the quintet is not playing well together, with the ethanol at center stage and the other aspects competing rather than complementing. On the palate the harsh and undisciplined 90 proof wreaks havoc like an unruly child punching above its weight. There are persistent woody tannins on the finish, which is overcome somewhat by the vanilla and cherry pipe tobacco. Disjointed, but not undrinkable. May work with lots of ice on a hot summer day, or as part of a punch or other drink where the bourbon is only a secondary ingredient. Not good for drinking neat, nor in a Manhattan or Old Fashioned. 2.5 on the Distiller scale. Few Bourbon Whiskey More orangey color than the Flatboat. Nose shows sawdust, old Fruity Pebbles cereal, a petroleum-paraffin quality, and dish soap. The wood is more like pine than oak. The dish soap continues on the palate, like a punishment in search of the bad words that precipitated it. I received this as a gift, and while I greatly appreciate the gesture, it’s just not that good. Not a lot of bourbon typicity. There is a tannic dryness on the finish. The drink does coerce you to pause to try to identify what’s going on with the same kind of curious morbidity surrounding a car wreck. Turns out I was correct in my initial assessment. The bottle says it is aged “at least one year in charred new oak barrels.” Well, yes; to be called bourbon it has to be in new charred oak barrels. Apparently this bottle is no longer available; the website does show a Straight Bourbon Whiskey, which by definition must be aged at least two years. 93 proof. 1.5 on the Distiller scale.

Iconic It seems to have become fashionable for whisky afficionados to diss Macallan--especially Macallan 18. It ain't cheap. It's a mainstay for suits in expense-account steakhouses, many of whom are not only oblivious to its sublimity but also to the scarcity of a spirit that has taken 18 years to mature. In spite of this, it is a force to be reckoned with, and no serious whisky drinker can ignore it. Serenity Prayer time, ladies and gents: you may think it is overpriced, or has snob appeal, or is not as good as X, Y, or Z. But it is a benchmark over which you have no control, so God grant you the wisdom to accept this fact that you cannot change, because it cannot be overlooked. Beautiful deep tawny orange color. Generous nose shows golden raisins, dates, brown sugar, spice cake, orange oil, and vanilla. Soft, viscous mouthfeel, subtle spice, a little ginger, and some espresso flavors on the long finish. Serious, elegant, and seamless. 4.5+ on the Distiller scale.

ISLAY SHOWDOWN 3: CASK STRENGTH DIVISION Laphroaig 10 Cask Strength vs Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood vs Ardbeg Corryvreckan Tasting whiskies side-by-side is both fun and enlightening: you think you know a particular one pretty well, and when tasted next to something else, well—it can change its colors. In this, the third installment of my Islay showdown (see “NEW AND OLD ISLAY SHOWDOWN: Lagavulin 8 vs Laphroaig 10”, 7/27/22; and “ISLAY SHOWDOWN 2: HEAVYWEIGHT DIVISION”, 7/29/22), we look at three high-octane bottlings: Laphroaig Cask Strength; Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood; and Ardbeg Corrvreckan. As I’ve already done Ardbeg Corryvreckan vs Uigeadail (6/2/22), I didn’t want to include both, and excluded the Oogie due to its higher sherry finish, which is slightly more atypical of Islay. I would’ve liked to have not had two Laphroaigs, but my other Islay whiskies aren’t cash strength (something I’ll need to rectify). I’m not a fan of adding water to cask strength bourbons: in fact, I never do it. There are two broad reasons for this. First is the fact that distillers themselves don’t do it. If a distiller does offer different versions of the same whisky, it is just two—the difference being only the amount of water used to dilute the cask-strength offering (if an offering even exists) to the “normal” or “standard” bottling. Let’s use Laphroaig 10 as an example: the Cask Strength (batch 013) is 57.9% ABV, while the “normal” Laphroaig 10 is simply the cash strength diluted with water to 43% ABV. If Laphroaig—or any other distiller—wanted to showcase different amounts of dilution to see how varying amounts “opens it up,” they could have a marketing field day and offer 46%, 49%, 52%, 55%, and then the normal cask strength to put these dilutions—that’s what they are—on full display. While this may be an extreme example, finding the optimal ABV (i.e., dilution) could be done behind the scenes. Laphroaig’s Distillery Manager, Barry MacAffer, could determine this to optimize the whisky’s distinct characteristic. Obviously the ideal is not the 43% ABV version: 43% is just a commonplace number amongst numerous distillers that is somewhat above the bare minimum to give an impression of “quality,” signaling that they’re not focused entirely on economics. Nor is the ideal necessarily the cask-strength version. If adding some water to cask strength whisky “opens it up,” why wouldn’t the distiller decide how much water provides the optimal complexity and flavor profile, and then offer 1) a cask-strength version for the purist, 2) a “lower end” version to maximize economics for the masses, and 3) an optimized ABV which the distiller defines as ideal (and further, this is another deft marketing stroke as it would invariably change year to year). Second, when a consumer adds water, it is being done entirely subjectively, with no rhyme or reason, whether it is dropped meticulously with a medicine dropper, or splashed by pouring a bit of water or even dipping one’s fingers in water and flicking it in. Not only is the amount of water subjective, but the amount of whisky that is being adulterated typically isn’t known either, and thus the ratio (i.e., ABV) is nothing but a guess. And don’t even get me started with ice, which is double jeopardy: not only is the amount of (frozen) water not known, but cooling the spirit dampens the flavor profile (both taste and nose). It’s simple physics: molecules in motion. Colder temperature slows them down, which diminishes whatever the whisky does have to offer. Of course, drinkers are free to imbibe as they please. Lahphroaig 10 Cask Strength Batch 013 (L10CS) First thought on nosing was apples—distilled apple resin—followed by molasses, clove, rosemary-infused grapefruit sorbet (melted to room temperature), cocoa powder, orange creamsicle (distilled nectar thereof), maple syrup, some oaky vanilla, and some balanced ethanol. There’s smoky peat, of course. And the requisite iodine and seaweed. The heat (57.9% ABV) appears again midpalate where a more medicinal characteristic pops up, and everything is put in a blender that somehow pulls everything together into an inexplicable whole. Finishes with malted barley and bacon fat. On the orgasmic spectrum. 4.75 on the Distiller scale. Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood (LCTW) In contradistinction to the L10CS, this is NAS (no age statement). Much sweeter nose with smoky peat caramel, vanilla, sugared cappuccino, brown sugar, milk chocolate. This sweetness follows on the palate, where the heat is more noticeable than the L10CS: it is a couple of percentage points higher, but the multiple variations on the sweet theme doesn’t do as good a job of taming the heat as does the heterogenous complexity of the L10CS. There is a slight sherry-influenced hazelnut on the finish, along with some tannic woodiness. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. Ardbeg Corryvreckan (AC) NAS, like the LCTW. Lightest in color of the three, with a clear straw color. Surprisingly bready and barley-like in comparison to the previous two. Also smoked ham, the “Islay troika” (smoky peat, seaweed, iodine), and an underlying sweetness but all of it is subtle in comparison (did anyone ever call anything Ardbeg “subtle”?!). More high-throttle and Ardbeg-like on the palate, but lacking the ostentatiousness of the L10CS and LCTW. Finishes sweet and heat, with a little pepper. 4.0 on the Distiller scale (vs 4.5 previously). Ardbeg Corryvreckan is a well-known (and well-loved) Islay whisky. But next to these two Laphroaigs, it is not what I expected. I did a side-by-side with Ardbeg Corryvreckan and Uigeadial some weeks back (6/2/22). It’s worth repeating here what I wrote on AC: “Nose shows plenty of smoky peat, Islay iodine and salinity, Japanese nori, asphalt, and a touch of bacon fat. There is a penetrating, mouthcoating entry, adding chocolate to the mix, and with a spicy, white pepper finish. The 57.1% ABV is a nice counterweight to Corry’s full-throttle style.” Next to the two Laphroaigs, AC is a different whisky. This is my first experience with the Laphroaig 10 Cask Strength, and will not be my last. It’s the clear winner in the showdown, and it’s hard to imagine improving upon it. The Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood is a very nice second, some distance back, but nicely sweet for an Islay whisky. The Ardbeg disappointed in comparison. It’s still good, but down a couple notches when last tasted against its sweeter brother, Uigeadial. N.B. All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

ISLAY SHOWDOWN 3: CASK STRENGTH DIVISION Laphroaig 10 Cask Strength vs Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood vs Ardbeg Corryvreckan Tasting whiskies side-by-side is both fun and enlightening: you think you know a particular one pretty well, and when tasted next to something else, well—it can change its colors. In this, the third installment of my Islay showdown (see “NEW AND OLD ISLAY SHOWDOWN: Lagavulin 8 vs Laphroaig 10”, 7/27/22; and “ISLAY SHOWDOWN 2: HEAVYWEIGHT DIVISION”, 7/29/22), we look at three high-octane bottlings: Laphroaig Cask Strength; Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood; and Ardbeg Corrvreckan. As I’ve already done Ardbeg Corryvreckan vs Uigeadail (6/2/22), I didn’t want to include both, and excluded the Oogie due to its higher sherry finish, which is slightly more atypical of Islay. I would’ve liked to have not had two Laphroaigs, but my other Islay whiskies aren’t cash strength (something I’ll need to rectify). I’m not a fan of adding water to cask strength bourbons: in fact, I never do it. There are two broad reasons for this. First is the fact that distillers themselves don’t do it. If a distiller does offer different versions of the same whisky, it is just two—the difference being only the amount of water used to dilute the cask-strength offering (if an offering even exists) to the “normal” or “standard” bottling. Let’s use Laphroaig 10 as an example: the Cask Strength (batch 013) is 57.9% ABV, while the “normal” Laphroaig 10 is simply the cash strength diluted with water to 43% ABV. If Laphroaig—or any other distiller—wanted to showcase different amounts of dilution to see how varying amounts “opens it up,” they could have a marketing field day and offer 46%, 49%, 52%, 55%, and then the normal cask strength to put these dilutions—that’s what they are—on full display. While this may be an extreme example, finding the optimal ABV (i.e., dilution) could be done behind the scenes. Laphroaig’s Distillery Manager, Barry MacAffer, could determine this to optimize the whisky’s distinct characteristic. Obviously the ideal is not the 43% ABV version: 43% is just a commonplace number amongst numerous distillers that is somewhat above the bare minimum to give an impression of “quality,” signaling that they’re not focused entirely on economics. Nor is the ideal necessarily the cask-strength version. If adding some water to cask strength whisky “opens it up,” why wouldn’t the distiller decide how much water provides the optimal complexity and flavor profile, and then offer 1) a cask-strength version for the purist, 2) a “lower end” version to maximize economics for the masses, and 3) an optimized ABV which the distiller defines as ideal (and further, this is another deft marketing stroke as it would invariably change year to year). Second, when a consumer adds water, it is being done entirely subjectively, with no rhyme or reason, whether it is dropped meticulously with a medicine dropper, or splashed by pouring a bit of water or even dipping one’s fingers in water and flicking it in. Not only is the amount of water subjective, but the amount of whisky that is being adulterated typically isn’t known either, and thus the ratio (i.e., ABV) is nothing but a guess. And don’t even get me started with ice, which is double jeopardy: not only is the amount of (frozen) water not known, but cooling the spirit dampens the flavor profile (both taste and nose). It’s simple physics: molecules in motion. Colder temperature slows them down, which diminishes whatever the whisky does have to offer. Of course, drinkers are free to imbibe as they please. Lahphroaig 10 Cask Strength Batch 013 (L10CS) First thought on nosing was apples—distilled apple resin—followed by molasses, clove, rosemary-infused grapefruit sorbet (melted to room temperature), cocoa powder, orange creamsicle (distilled nectar thereof), maple syrup, some oaky vanilla, and some balanced ethanol. There’s smoky peat, of course. And the requisite iodine and seaweed. The heat (57.9% ABV) appears again midpalate where a more medicinal characteristic pops up, and everything is put in a blender that somehow pulls everything together into an inexplicable whole. Finishes with malted barley and bacon fat. On the orgasmic spectrum. 4.75 on the Distiller scale. Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood (LCTW) In contradistinction to the L10CS, this is NAS (no age statement). Much sweeter nose with smoky peat caramel, vanilla, sugared cappuccino, brown sugar, milk chocolate. This sweetness follows on the palate, where the heat is more noticeable than the L10CS: it is a couple of percentage points higher, but the multiple variations on the sweet theme doesn’t do as good a job of taming the heat as does the heterogenous complexity of the L10CS. There is a slight sherry-influenced hazelnut on the finish, along with some tannic woodiness. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. Ardbeg Corryvreckan (AC) NAS, like the LCTW. Lightest in color of the three, with a clear straw color. Surprisingly bready and barley-like in comparison to the previous two. Also smoked ham, the “Islay troika” (smoky peat, seaweed, iodine), and an underlying sweetness but all of it is subtle in comparison (did anyone ever call anything Ardbeg “subtle”?!). More high-throttle and Ardbeg-like on the palate, but lacking the ostentatiousness of the L10CS and LCTW. Finishes sweet and heat, with a little pepper. 4.0 on the Distiller scale (vs 4.5 previously). Ardbeg Corryvreckan is a well-known (and well-loved) Islay whisky. But next to these two Laphroaigs, it is not what I expected. I did a side-by-side with Ardbeg Corryvreckan and Uigeadial some weeks back (6/2/22). It’s worth repeating here what I wrote on AC: “Nose shows plenty of smoky peat, Islay iodine and salinity, Japanese nori, asphalt, and a touch of bacon fat. There is a penetrating, mouthcoating entry, adding chocolate to the mix, and with a spicy, white pepper finish. The 57.1% ABV is a nice counterweight to Corry’s full-throttle style.” Next to the two Laphroaigs, AC is a different whisky. This is my first experience with the Laphroaig 10 Cask Strength, and will not be my last. It’s the clear winner in the showdown, and it’s hard to imagine improving upon it. The Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood is a very nice second, some distance back, but nicely sweet for an Islay whisky. The Ardbeg disappointed in comparison. It’s still good, but down a couple notches when last tasted against its sweeter brother, Uigeadial. N.B. All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

ISLAY SHOWDOWN 3: CASK STRENGTH DIVISION Laphroaig 10 Cask Strength vs Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood vs Ardbeg Corryvreckan Tasting whiskies side-by-side is both fun and enlightening: you think you know a particular one pretty well, and when tasted next to something else, well—it can change its colors. In this, the third installment of my Islay showdown (see “NEW AND OLD ISLAY SHOWDOWN: Lagavulin 8 vs Laphroaig 10”, 7/27/22; and “ISLAY SHOWDOWN 2: HEAVYWEIGHT DIVISION”, 7/29/22), we look at three high-octane bottlings: Laphroaig Cask Strength; Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood; and Ardbeg Corrvreckan. As I’ve already done Ardbeg Corryvreckan vs Uigeadail (6/2/22), I didn’t want to include both, and excluded the Oogie due to its higher sherry finish, which is slightly more atypical of Islay. I would’ve liked to have not had two Laphroaigs, but my other Islay whiskies aren’t cash strength (something I’ll need to rectify). I’m not a fan of adding water to cask strength bourbons: in fact, I never do it. There are two broad reasons for this. First is the fact that distillers themselves don’t do it. If a distiller does offer different versions of the same whisky, it is just two—the difference being only the amount of water used to dilute the cask-strength offering (if an offering even exists) to the “normal” or “standard” bottling. Let’s use Laphroaig 10 as an example: the Cask Strength (batch 013) is 57.9% ABV, while the “normal” Laphroaig 10 is simply the cash strength diluted with water to 43% ABV. If Laphroaig—or any other distiller—wanted to showcase different amounts of dilution to see how varying amounts “opens it up,” they could have a marketing field day and offer 46%, 49%, 52%, 55%, and then the normal cask strength to put these dilutions—that’s what they are—on full display. While this may be an extreme example, finding the optimal ABV (i.e., dilution) could be done behind the scenes. Laphroaig’s Distillery Manager, Barry MacAffer, could determine this to optimize the whisky’s distinct characteristic. Obviously the ideal is not the 43% ABV version: 43% is just a commonplace number amongst numerous distillers that is somewhat above the bare minimum to give an impression of “quality,” signaling that they’re not focused entirely on economics. Nor is the ideal necessarily the cask-strength version. If adding some water to cask strength whisky “opens it up,” why wouldn’t the distiller decide how much water provides the optimal complexity and flavor profile, and then offer 1) a cask-strength version for the purist, 2) a “lower end” version to maximize economics for the masses, and 3) an optimized ABV which the distiller defines as ideal (and further, this is another deft marketing stroke as it would invariably change year to year). Second, when a consumer adds water, it is being done entirely subjectively, with no rhyme or reason, whether it is dropped meticulously with a medicine dropper, or splashed by pouring a bit of water or even dipping one’s fingers in water and flicking it in. Not only is the amount of water subjective, but the amount of whisky that is being adulterated typically isn’t known either, and thus the ratio (i.e., ABV) is nothing but a guess. And don’t even get me started with ice, which is double jeopardy: not only is the amount of (frozen) water not known, but cooling the spirit dampens the flavor profile (both taste and nose). It’s simple physics: molecules in motion. Colder temperature slows them down, which diminishes whatever the whisky does have to offer. Of course, drinkers are free to imbibe as they please. Lahphroaig 10 Cask Strength Batch 013 (L10CS) First thought on nosing was apples—distilled apple resin—followed by molasses, clove, rosemary-infused grapefruit sorbet (melted to room temperature), cocoa powder, orange creamsicle (distilled nectar thereof), maple syrup, some oaky vanilla, and some balanced ethanol. There’s smoky peat, of course. And the requisite iodine and seaweed. The heat (57.9% ABV) appears again midpalate where a more medicinal characteristic pops up, and everything is put in a blender that somehow pulls everything together into an inexplicable whole. Finishes with malted barley and bacon fat. On the orgasmic spectrum. 4.75 on the Distiller scale. Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood (LCTW) In contradistinction to the L10CS, this is NAS (no age statement). Much sweeter nose with smoky peat caramel, vanilla, sugared cappuccino, brown sugar, milk chocolate. This sweetness follows on the palate, where the heat is more noticeable than the L10CS: it is a couple of percentage points higher, but the multiple variations on the sweet theme doesn’t do as good a job of taming the heat as does the heterogenous complexity of the L10CS. There is a slight sherry-influenced hazelnut on the finish, along with some tannic woodiness. 4.0 on the Distiller scale. Ardbeg Corryvreckan (AC) NAS, like the LCTW. Lightest in color of the three, with a clear straw color. Surprisingly bready and barley-like in comparison to the previous two. Also smoked ham, the “Islay troika” (smoky peat, seaweed, iodine), and an underlying sweetness but all of it is subtle in comparison (did anyone ever call anything Ardbeg “subtle”?!). More high-throttle and Ardbeg-like on the palate, but lacking the ostentatiousness of the L10CS and LCTW. Finishes sweet and heat, with a little pepper. 4.0 on the Distiller scale (vs 4.5 previously). Ardbeg Corryvreckan is a well-known (and well-loved) Islay whisky. But next to these two Laphroaigs, it is not what I expected. I did a side-by-side with Ardbeg Corryvreckan and Uigeadial some weeks back (6/2/22). It’s worth repeating here what I wrote on AC: “Nose shows plenty of smoky peat, Islay iodine and salinity, Japanese nori, asphalt, and a touch of bacon fat. There is a penetrating, mouthcoating entry, adding chocolate to the mix, and with a spicy, white pepper finish. The 57.1% ABV is a nice counterweight to Corry’s full-throttle style.” Next to the two Laphroaigs, AC is a different whisky. This is my first experience with the Laphroaig 10 Cask Strength, and will not be my last. It’s the clear winner in the showdown, and it’s hard to imagine improving upon it. The Laphroaig Cairdeas Triple Wood is a very nice second, some distance back, but nicely sweet for an Islay whisky. The Ardbeg disappointed in comparison. It’s still good, but down a couple notches when last tasted against its sweeter brother, Uigeadial. N.B. All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

Light clear gold color. Sweet honeyed nose along with a key-lime-pie-with-graham-cracker-crust note, with a little menthol coolness. Sweetness continues on the palate, with some similarity to a Hall’s honey-lemon cough drop—in this regard, flavor profile is very similar to my recollection of Nikka Coffey Malt Whisky (not Nikka Coffee Grain Whisky, which is not dissimilar to bourbon). This same note continues on the finish, where the light 40% ABV becomes apparent, and again shows a menthol coolness. Not complex, with the same note or two being struck on nose, midpalate, and finish—but sweet and easy drinking, if unusual with the menthol coolness. I need to taste this side-by-side with the Nikka Coffey Malt to test my taste memory; perhaps tomorrow. 2.5 on the Distiller scale. N.B. All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.