Tastes

It’s hard to rate this objectively given the rarity of the experience, for which it rates six stars out of five. And many of the flavours were so subtle that they were hard to tease out from a small pour at the end of an evening drinking modern Ardbeg. But what I got was as follows: gentle notes of sour fruits on the nose and a hint of something metallic. In the mouth it clings to the side of the tongue despite the low ABV, yielding grapefruit and lychee, specifically the flesh of the latter not the juice. A long finish of awe with a dash of greedy entitlement and a brief moment of unity with everything that has ever been and ever will. Yeh, no proper notes on the finish. Suffice to say this tastes quite unlike a modern Ardbeg, though the fruity notes are not dissimilar to other Islays of this age. An itch is scratched, for now.

Salty lime with a wisp of sweet smoke forms the heart of an expressive nose. The first impression in the mouth is that it’s very dry. Subsequent sips reveal lime, eucalyptus and wet wood. The finish leans into white pepper, lime zest and tannins. The lime forms an enjoyable backbone to this whisky but it lacks complexity and is flirting with an oaky influence that was on the edge of my tolerance. Worth a try but I wouldn’t buy a bottle on the strength of my tasting.

I found this rather unremarkable. Vague hints of citrus on the somewhat flat nose. An orange sherbet shade to the typical Ardbeg flavors in the mouth, perhaps the orange Nesquik that I used to covet as a child. The finish is dry and herbal, with a sage note. I was expecting this to be unpleasantly sweet but if anything it’s too dry. Others at the same tasting were more excited about this than me, so please form your own impressions, but this particular tale did not leave me wanting a sequel.

This new blend from the house of Adelphi packs a lot of promise into its bargain-priced bottle. Not only does the malt content comprise 70% of the whisky but it also comes from top tier distilleries. Peated and unpeated distillate from Adelphi’s Ardnamurchan aged from four to six years makes up the backbone, supplemeted by an eight-year-old Campbeltown whisky that is strongly tipped to be Springbank. Rounding out the blend is a five-year-old Diageo grain. It’s soft and creamy on the nose, with honey and peppery spice in the mouth. That pepper continues into a medium length finish It’s a little thin in the mouth for my liking and not as complex as the core Compass Box blends, but for $35 you could do far worse.

The second of the two samples I bought at the Bunnahabhain distillery shop was a 2018 Feis Ile release named Spanish Oak Finish. Many people would call this a double maturation rather than a finish, as it was moved to Gran Reserva casks as far back as 2013 after initially aging in refill (presumably bourbon) casks since 2002. I couldn’t ascertain whether those Spanish casks held Rioja wine, brandy or something else, but what’s not in question is that they worked wonders. The nose is heavy with raisins, sultanas, a little cigar ash and a hint of struck match. In the mouth it’s thick with blackberry jam, figs, dark chocolate, cinnamon, salted caramel and blood orange. The finish is long and dry on blackberry, dark chocolate chips and tannins. As good as it is, Bunnahabhain overpriced it at 250 pounds and bottles are still available from its website five years later, despite it filling only 1,500. But ignore that price and keep an eye on the auctions, where it’s going for as little as half that. Indeed, there was one up for grabs as I was writing this, and a day later it was mine for 130 pounds.

I gave this another chance before Ms Modern Drinking finished off the bottle and liked it more on retasting, particularly the fruitiness of the nose. No bitter finish this time.

The Bunnahabhain distillery shop is Islay’s candy store, with dozens of different blends and single casks available in a variety of bottle sizes. I somehow managed to restrict myself to just two 3cl samples when I visited in June, one of which was this latest release of the cask strength 12. It’s important to note that this is a different cask recipe to the regular 12, with just a small percentage of bourbon barrels. It announces itself as something special as soon as your pour it, a golden honey syrup that swirls lusciously in the glass. The aromas are beguiling: rich raisins soaking in syrup with a dash of Cointreau and a hint of aromatic wood akin to a cedar plank. An initial burst of pepper in the mouth gives way to jammy flavors and notes of marinated blood oranges. The medium-dry finish riffs on orange marmalade (not the bitter kind) accompanied by a dusting of nutmeg. The mouthfeel is luxurious, with a silkiness that makes it go down easy despite the strength. Put simply, it’s delicious, an indulgent desert with just enough complexity to make it interesting.

First impressions leaving me rather underwhelmed. Nose is fine, creamy and peppery with a hint of something grapey. Mid-palate is a little sweet, but nothing that suggests a strong Madeira influence. Finish is short with poor-quality, bitter tannins, like sucking wood. Disappointing, but we’ll see how it progresses. So far I like it less than the previous port and Madeira Cairdeas releases, and neither of them were my favorites in the series. I bought all the Cairdeas from 2013 through 2018 and then only samples until this year. On this evidence I should have stuck to the recent strategy, but I’ll give it a few more tries before reaching a definitive judgement.

This rare 1997 release from Johnnie Walker comprises whiskies distilled 50 years earlier and was the highlight of a JW-themed tasting this week near the Modern Drinking HQ. That makes this blend a 1947 vintage, surely the oldest I’ve tasted. I’ve no idea which distilleries are represented, but undoubtably many of them have ceased production. The online literature mentions maturation in port-seasoned casks and that influence is clear through the spirit. Dry tannins, dates and plums merge into a deep leathery backbone that harkens to its age. The finish extends for as long as you have the patience to wait between sips, with raisins, 90% dark chocolate and more of those tannins. Despite the length of maturation, there’s only a hint of oak spice, or perhaps it’s a whisp of smoke. The tannins give it the mouthfeel of a well-aged wine or port and while it’s not the most complex of whiskies it ticks all the boxes you want from a blend, in that it doesn’t require too much analysis to enjoy. The small pour I had went a long way, so although a bottle will cost you in excess of $1,000 at auction you’ll get many months of pleasure from this treasure of whisky history.

An excellent whisky that marks the best of the original output I’ve tasted from Teeling. Unlike Connemara, one of the few bottles I’ve emptied down the drain, the peat here is precisely integrated. It’s cool and minty on the nose with hints of heather, but leaves room for some faint apple and pear notes to emerge in the background. The peat starts sweet in the mouth before turning lightly peppery, substantial but not overpowering, and then it steps back to let the orchard fruit flavors shine. A delicate mix of apple and pears lingers on the finish alongside a sprinkling of ash. No black marks here, this is cracking stuff.