Tastes

Surprisingly delicious for a low strength grain whisky of an undisclosed age. The nose slowly reveals luscious waves of coconut cream, while the flavors in the mouth are far more robust than I would expect, with graham crackers providing a rich backdrop for the creamier notes. I’d gladly drink this over many an entry level single malt from Scotland.

I don’t drink much bourbon and wouldn’t know a Wild Turkey if it bit me on the ass, but this legendary bottling from the 1980s is wonderful. There’s a narrow set of flavors that I like in bourbon along with several that I don’t and this one hits the bullseye. The nose is a glorious mix of cherry and polished rosewood. There’s a brief and bonkers hit of funky cheese grits on the first sip and then a seamless segue into brown sugar and cinnamon that lingers for hours. I was reveling in the aftertaste of this until bedtime. And as I mentioned, it’s all the better for what it doesn’t taste of: no corn, cream, vanilla or white sugar. This is as good as any Pappy I’ve had and delivers as much flavor as a WL Weller at a far more palatable proof. I don’t think I could ever declare a Scotch perfect given how complex the category is, but in the narrow spectrum of flavors that define bourbon this is as good as it gets.

This is a walnutty whisky. Not everyone likes walnuts and it’s not a style of dram I’d want every day. But that earthy flavor makes for an interesting change, especially when it’s coated in oily goodness and sandwiched between a honeyed nose and a silky finish. In a different league to the rather pedestrian 12 year Flora & Fauna.

How wonderful it has been to drink whisky these past few weeks, to mark the passing of another day of good health with a palliative dram that calms the mind and pulls one’s focus to the simple sensory pleasures of the glass at hand. To open the rainy day bottles, just in case it’s now or never. And most importantly to feel part of a worldwide community that brings together strangers who would never have crossed paths were it not for a deeply geeky appreciation of the serendipitous interactions of barley, yeast and water that some people in Scotland or elsewhere stuck in a wooden barrel many years ago. So cheers to that and to all of you. The community of whisky drinkers has been on my mind recently because the highlight of my quarantine has been the weekly virtual tastings organized by my local whisky club. While such online events have quickly become a common feature of the lockdown, our local leader has outdone himself by rounding up jaw-dropping line ups of bottles and getting samples safely into the hands of members. But the quality of the whisky has proven to be less important than the opportunity to connect socially on Zoom, exchange tasting notes and peek into each other’s quarantine chambers. So the fact that my ratings for our recent Laphroaig tasting may look ungratefully low is besides the point. These were whiskies that I might never taste at the best of times, and to do it under such circumstances in what approximates for a social gathering right now is an experience I wouldn’t trade for a bottle of rare Macallan. This 25-year-old was my favorite of the bunch. The version I tried was matured in a mix of ex-bourbon and ex-oloroso sherry casks and bottled in 2019 at cask strength of 51.4%. The nose is spearmint, heather and white pepper, with a hint of banana. In the mouth, it’s fruity, a side of Laphroaig that I really love. We’re talking tropical, with notes of guava and papaya. The finish is long with an aftertaste of burnt brisket. Sounds good, right? Yet it didn’t really come together for me. The differences between the nose, palate and finish made it hard to fully engage with the whisky and slide into the transcendental experience one might get from a more integrated profile. As such, this is a bottle worth sharing rather than owning, and right now there’s nothing wrong with that.

A very different flavor profile for a Balvenie, leaning towards cocoa powder and coffee grounds rather than its trademark honey. Finishes strong and long with more cocoa powder and black Russian bread. These are all tastes I gravitate towards - porters and stouts are my favorite beers - and Balvenie is to be commended for experimenting with barley variations. But I found the nose disappointingly shy.

While the version pictured here is now rare, there are even scarcer iterations that preceded it. My sample was from a 1980s era release that came in a 1 liter Cognac-style bottle seen here: https://www.whiskybase.com/whiskies/whisky/52403/balvenie-founders-reserve. Perhaps whisky needed to pretend it was Cognac back then to command attention. It really shouldn’t have required any help given how excellent its contents are. The nose is more expressive than I typically find on a Balvenie, with honey and floral notes. Milky toffee flavors dominate the palate with an intensity that belies the 43% ABV and linger into the very long finish. There’s a touch of a bone dry white wine to the aftertaste as well. Quite delicious and very different from a modern Balvenie. I wish I had more.

Rum casks usually turn out too sugary for my liking, but this one seems to have received just enough of a finish to add a toasty caramalized note without oversweetening the spirit. Diluted to about 50%, it makes for a nice desert whisky and a decent alternative to a sherry cask.

This is really nice. Fruity, white grape flavors, bright and crisp. Good balance between the sweet and malty notes. No harsh notes that belie its youth. A bit short on the finish but otherwise packs a long of taste for its ABV. Another impressive French whisky.

Pretty tasty for a minimum proof whisky, with distinct milk chocolate and malt flavors. I hope this makes its way to bars (remember them?) as it would be a good value pour.