Tastes

Silky aromas of caramel, vanilla and oak. Deliciously creamy toffee flavors. It's somewhat reminiscent of the Macallan Edition 2, and perhaps a notch better. This is the first Westland malt that I have really enjoyed and much better than last year's edition. There is promise yet in this distillery!

If there’s one thing that defines a bad whisky for me, it’s an overly sweet profile. By that definition, the Glenmorangie sampler pack contains three bad whiskies. The Original 10-year-old is the one okay spirit, fine but nothing special and not really my kind of thing. The three 12-year-old samples add a couple of years in different wood finishes to take everything down a notch. First up in the sherry-casked Lasanta, which has a nice nose of stewed fruit but is tooth-rottingly sweet. I poured only 0.75 fl oz and dumped most of it. The Quinta Ruban has a delightful port nose but also takes a saccharine turn. A good drinking night for the kitchen sink. The Sauternes-finished Nectar should be the sweetest of the bunch but is actually a little better balanced. Still too sweet for me to finish, but I managed half an ounce. I’ve had this experience before with Glenmorangie — last year’s Milsean special made my fillings hurt — but hadn’t appreciated that it was something of a hallmark for the brand. Now excuse while I go brush my teeth.

I’ve tried Longrow, I’ve really tried. But I’m afraid this relationship isn’t working. We should be very compatible. I like Springbank. I like peat. And yet, there’s something about the way you combine the two that colors me ambivalent. Maybe it’s because I like my smoke meaty, and you’re often on the sweet side. Or maybe it’s that yeasty mid-palette flavor that leaves me cold. Don’t get me wrong, you’re good for a one-night stand: that yeast is redeemed with a dash of cream and your soy sauce and mint chocolate notes are welcome in my mouth. But I don’t see us moving in together, no matter your age. Anyway, I’m in love with the girl next door — Kilkerran. Sorry.

Lovely floral nose, reminiscent of a summer night in a botanical garden. A sip uncovers flavors of lemons, custard and a bite of spice. The finish is long, sweet and malty. Perversely, I tasted this after trying the 21-year-old at the weekend, forgetting that I had samples of both, so I’ve missed the opportunity to try them side by side. No question that the 21 is in a different class, but this is a worthy example of a floral style I like almost as much as the peat monsters.

I could inhale this all night: warm pecan pie, with a drizzle of butterscotch sauce. But drink it I must. It’s smooth and viscous, with flavors of clover honey and a hint of orange blossom. The finish is long and syrupy. Another special treat courtesy of @PBMichiganWolverine .

Stonkingly good. Like sucking on a piece of overcooked brisket. Okay, that may not sound gastronomically appealing but in a whisky it translates into a drink that’s deliciously meaty and smoky and dry. Sandwiched either side of these lip-smacking flavors are a typical Ardbeg nose of smoke and lemon Ricola cough drops and an aftertaste of bitter chocolate, barbecue sauce and tannins. There’s plenty of time to analyze that finish because it hangs around long enough to set up home in your mouth, unpacking its cigars and 90% cocoa Lindt bars and refusing to get off your couch. As a blend it’s outstanding. As a bastard cousin of purebred Ardbegs, it more than holds its own, easily outshining An Oa and even last year’s 21. If only those wayward relatives around your Thanksgiving table could so effortlessly assemble themselves into a whole that’s greater than their parts. Thanks again Pranay.

Huge sherry nose and a deliciously sweet flavor profile. Not particularly complex but lovely nonetheless. A drop of water calms everything down.

I had a generous sample of this tonight at an American single malt event in New York. There’s light smoke on the nose and flavors of cured meat in the mouth. The finish is sweet, and extended by a drop of water. Perfectly fine but still not an answer to the existential question of why anyone would pay $90+ for American malt. Hopefully we’ll resolve that before the industry implodes, as there’s no doubting the sincerity of the distillers.