Tastes

Glenfarclas just makes whiskies. I love ugly bottles, because it tells me that the distillery is not trying to sell you “an experience.” Fuck that experience shit. Don’t tell me how to think. Especially when alcohol is involved. An independent bottler would look at Glenfarclas’s ugly-ass tin and bottle and ask “What are you doing?” Only Longrow has Glenfarclas beat in the ugly competition. But you know what? This 12 year old cost me $37. NOSE: Powerful. Wine. I was surprised how much fresh grape peel and apple peel I was getting from the nose. Having been lucky enough to have tried some 25 year old and family cask Glenfarclas (bargains for the ages), I was expecting a hit of sherry. Not so. Sherry is there, but only after your nose acclimates to the sharp fruit notes. Lots of grass. PALATE: Initially, it’s nothing like the nose. It’s light and rounded. The flavors take some time to reveal, but there is quite a bit complexity. Lots of fresh fruitiness: apricots, unripe honeydew, honey, Gala apple. Some sherry influence, but once again, it’s subdued. Towards the end, a lot of malt, almost like a Scottish ale; and very mild spiciness. FINISH: So, at my normal pace for a 12 year old, of taking about 30 minutes to finish a 1.5 ounce-ish pour, there is no finish to speak of. You speed it up, and drink (ahem, taste) twice as fast and you get some finish. It actually gets pretty intensely spicy with cloves and nutmeg. With water, and with time/oxygen, the nose and palate become more similar. The nose rounds out, and the palate becomes a little more spiky with spicy notes. VERDICT: So, I last had this side by side with Macallan 12 Sherry 43% ABV. Unfortunately, the experience justified the extra bucks Macallan is charging. Glenfarclas is just anemic and watery in comparison, even though it is also 43%. I want to love Glenfarclas so much, but it does make Macallan look good, and there is a little bit of a you-get-what-you-pay-for lesson. Still, have it side-by-side with Glenfiddich 12, and Glenfarclas is gargantuan. MARK: 78/100. If you can find it for under $40, it’s worth it.

I had this at a free tasting and actually decided to purchase the bottle for $30. If for nothing else, I want to support my local distributor, and I can experiment with cooking using an Islay whisky. This new edition just came out recently. Rumors are that the older version was Lagavulin’s 5 year-ish abortions that were not up to Lagavulin’s standards. This one did not remind me of Lagavulin at all. NOSE: Weaker-than-Ardbeg, but reminds me of Ardbeg 10. Campfire embers, earthy. Not much else going on that’s pleasant. Plastic and chalky. Definitely young. With a few drops of water, some green fruitiness and slight herbalness comes out. Nothing meaty or medicinal that makes me think Lagavulin or Laphroaig. Not very briny. PALATE: Well-rounded and balanced earthy peat with overripe green apples. Not stewed; just starting to rot on the branch. I’m thinking of Bowmore. Some liquorice, honeysuckle, vanilla. A little bit of citrus, but not enough to point me towards Caol Ila. Smooth and oily with some surprising complexity. FINISH: Bitter. Lemons. Now it’s like immature Caol Ila. Not offensive; I’m not making ugly faces. Just unrefined, like my use of the word “abortion.” Okay perhaps that’s offensive, but I don’t care. VERDICT: This bottle is worth the money just to try to guess what distillery allowed Vintage Malt Whisky Company to bottle their bad stocks, but ban them from revealing the identity. Also, the palate is quite nice. Just don’t bother smelling it, or try savoring the aftertaste. My thoughts are it is closest to Bowmore, but Bowmore clearly has no shame in bottling their abortions – they even call it “Legend.” And this whisky is better than Bowmore Legend. Maybe Ardbeg or Caol Ila? It could still be Lagavulin. I mean, it tastes nothing like it, but that could be why Lagavulin got rid of it. MARK: 67/100.

Just what is Highland Park doing? I have a theory that you can walk into a Duty Free and tell what distilleries are lost to people who truly appreciate liquor for the sole reason that they love to drink liquor. The only reason for a travel retail exclusive (TRE) is to appeal to people who like liquor for other reasons. When you release about a dozen TREs, you tell me that your casks now suck, but you would still like to earn money unscrupulously from vacation-drunken travelers. Highland Park has gone Viking mad. This isn’t even Norse mythology – the actual word they are looking for is “Einherjar,” but I guess that’s less marketable. NOSE: It’s Highland Park with water. Heather, oranges, honey, followed by some sherry notes. Like a weak 12 year old – the normal one – because I noticed they Viking’d up the new 12 year old. I bet it’s compensation for a decrease in quality. PALATE: Sherry flavors on the arrival, but a weak body. Watery, jarred fruits: dark grapes, berries. The only smoke is a faint burnt orange peel in tea flavor. Not bad, but not nearly as good as the 12. FINISH: There really is none. Certainly nothing that reminds you that you had just sipped a Highland Park. VERDICT: It’s not worth the price of the bottle. I had some while watching Netflix “Valhalla Rising.” What a fucked up movie. The movie was too strong for this fake whisky, and I switched to Laphroaig CS. Much more appropriate. Highland Park used to be one of my favorite distilleries. This saddens me. MARK: 74/100.

From Compass Box sample box containing five different 50mL vials from their “core range.” I was able to get this on sale for $30. Spice Tree is the best out of the five; Asyla, Oak Cross, Peat Monster, and Hedonism are the others. It is also the one that is the boldest and has an unabashed history of being once deemed illegal per the Scotch Whisky Association (SWA). I have never tasted the illegal version of Spice Tree, but word of mouth is that the newer versions approximate the illegal ones, which are now worth a million dollars. And word of mouth is fuck the SWA, because Compass Box caters to those who are always right: me, the consumer. NOSE: After sampling 10mL in a Glencairn, I poured the remaining 40mL into my ridiculous fishbowl sized cognac sniffer because the smell is that potent! This year in my whisky education, I am learning that peat is not the only way to grow chest hair. Whisky in French oak becomes incredibly spicy, and to have this whisky be 80% matured in new French oak is insane. Let this one sit for 10 minutes, and smell it. Spice is crazier than peat is the conclusion. Almost overwhelming clove, allspice, white pepper. In the background, eucalyptus, lemon, and maybe a little culantro. PALATE: Doughy, oily, grassy, and utterly unique. Tree barkiness: maple syrup with maple wood, cedar, oak, redwood. Hints of raisins and vanilla. The spiciness definitely dominates. Missing some smokiness, otherwise you would have Talisker… FINISH: Youthy plastic notes detract from the experience, but you get a fairly long afterburn of spice. Breathtaking development of ginger and lemon. Some allspice and clove continues. It’s like a spicy alcoholic green tea! WITH WATER: Water amplifies spice. Do add a few drops. This lets you know the burn is not from the ethanol. The nose and the finish are improved, and the name “Spice Tree” does not do this dram justice. I would go with “Spicefuck.” VERDICT: Out of the 5 in this Compass Box sample pack, this is the only one that encourages me to purchase a full bottle. I am buying the full version of this ($75), and I am also buying a bottle of the Spice Tree Extravaganza ($140) that blends in some older whiskies. The spicy power of French oak is on full display with Spice Tree, and I am in awe. I want more. MARK: 90/100.

From Compass Box sample box containing five different 50mL vials from their “core range.” I was able to get this on sale for $30. Asyla is the cheapest of the samples, at ~$45 per 750mL bottle. This is a blended Scotch that is 50% grain and 50% malt from Glen Elgin, Teannich, and Linkwood NOSE: Crisp and refreshing. Lime, lemon, lemongrass, bittersweet… tequila? Getting back on track with deeper sniffs, a wee bit of saltiness, roses, and earl gray tea from linkwood. The fruitiness is all apples, which blends in with the grassiness from Teannich. PALATE: Pleasantly waxy mouthfeel. Vanilla dominates in two respects: it’s the vanilla flavor, and it’s vanilla, i.e. boring. There is some corn sweetness, but it’s not as bad as the popular blends. I can taste the worst ingredient better than most, and it distracts me. The worst ingredient in Asyla is better than that in JW Red/Black/Green, for sure. Still, it’s thin, it’s grassiness mixed with vanilla mixed with maltiness. These are just boring flavors. Linkwood – the best component of the nose, is absent on the palate. I’m thinking that I should just gulp this and move on. FINISH: Generic. It’s pleasant and lasts somewhat longer than cheaper single malts such as Glenlivet and Glenfiddich 12. There’s some maltiness, apple fruitiness, vanilla, and caramel toffees. I’m pleasantly surprised that none of the unpalatable notes from young, cheap grain are present. WITH WATER: Surprisingly, a few drops of water adds some much needed spicy intensity to this boring dram. Even though this is only 40% ABV, some water makes it more interesting. VERDICT: This is glorified white wine. John Glasser even compares this to white wine. You either drink this on a hot day with ditzy people who are only tolerable with alcohol, or you must find complementary foods. May I recommend a rich white-meated fish such as cod. This is perhaps the most boring Compass Box. MARK: 69/100.

From Compass Box sample box containing five different 50mL vials from their “core range.” I was able to get this on sale for $30. Hedonism is the most expensive in this package, at ~$140 for a 750mL bottle. Hedonism is a vatted grain whisky, which is super unusual. There is only one “mainstream” one: Haig Club, which I’ve never tried because it is expensive and everyone except David Beckham believes this is garbage. Grain is typically thought of as the cheap filler in blended Scotches, but Compass Box has set out to prove that a properly matured grain can be quite palatable. NOSE: Sweet and pleasant. Meat from old brown coconuts, vanilla, caramel, crème fraiche. Wood varnish is in the background and because I do not have a sweet-tooth, this was the most interesting note. Fruity notes are pears and apples, but these are subtle. This smells a lot like an expensive bourbon. PALATE: Arrival is a big wallop of coconut. As you sip more, it becomes very much like a bourbon. Adding water speeds up this transition. A floral oakiness is in the background. This is very, very sweet. Almost no salt. It needs salt. FINISH: Bourbon, but better. Caveat is I’ve never bothered to spend hundreds of dollars on a bottle of bourbon, and now I have even less reason to, because if I felt that insane, I would just buy a bottle of Hedonism. Coconut and vanilla remains, but there is a pleasant rich caramel liqueur that lingers. Imagine a Bounty chocolate bar filled with alcohol… with some nutmeg and cinnamon. VERDICT: Dessert drink, definitely. I’m just not sold on grain whisky. Old Girvan single grains are even more coconut-y. It’s hard to back a spirit trying to approach a Pina Colada. I’m almost thankful Hedonism is a little more youthful. This is definitely better than the rubbish they fill Johnny Walker bottles with, but I am on the fence about picking up a full bottle. I think I can do better with $140 to spend on an actual bourbon. MARK: 82/100.

This review is for the 25 year old Gordon & MacPhail, which is pretty available in well-stocked whisky bars, and is very reasonably priced, like Linkwood IBs tend to be. I bought two ounces at The Caledonian in Toronto last week for $43 CAN (roughly $34 USD). Linkwood is very versatile for long aging because the distillery character is bland and easy to build on. Linkwood is like Baby from “Dirty Dancing.” She enters casks with naivete and trepidation, yearning for a bold, assertive cask to teach her some spicy moves. The best partner is probably small ex-bourbon casks, preferably rejuvenated. The 25 G&M uses sherry refill, and we aren’t given more information. Probably, this was aged in tired sherry butts, because even after 25 years, something is to be desired, and I only rarely taste anything 25 years or older. NOSE: Take your time for these old whiskies. Initially, there are stale and muddled vanilla/sherry notes. Wait a good 10-15 minutes for this dram to open up. Sweet fruity notes separate from earthy, damp forest undergrowth. Sultanas and wilting roses. Something arcane in the background. Dusty, herbal traditional Chinese medicine like. Nothing blowing the socks off, but contemplative. Hmmm… PALATE: Sweet arrival with an impressive body for 43% ABV. Still, this would have been nicer with more alcohol. Don’t add water. Honey, vanilla, cream. I tend to get an Earl Grey background with all Linkwoods. Thus, London fog (flavors assemble)! The woody flavors towards the end do nothing for me. Like I said, tired sherry butts probably. FINISH: Medium in length. Dry and malty. The sweetness dropped off quickly, and you are left chewing on old water-damaged books. The pages are brown, with a little bit of moss. Could have used some peat. Could have used some sherry. VERDICT: A bottle, if you find one on sale, should be ~$150. At that price point, it’s hard to pass for a 25 year old. Finding the London fog flavor was a great experience and I could keep going back to that at any time of the day. Drink a 25 year old whisky for brunch like a champ! MARK: 87/100.

$37.50 CAN (roughly $30 USD) for 1 oz. at The Caledonian in Toronto ~2016. This was a steal, and last I checked they are now out, as are all bottles in my area. The inertia for me to buy a bottle was that the nearest store that I knew of that had this in stock was 45 minutes away. If it was closer, the $430 price tag would be no obstacle. I had a second ounce, and even bought a pour for a good friend, who was relatively new to whisky. He summarized the experience better than I could: “Wow. Fruity. Smooth. Salty. Wow. I didn’t know whisky could be so smooth.” I encouraged him to let the full finish fade before taking the next sip. After 10 minutes, he got tired of waiting and went outside for a smoke. NOSE: Bruichladdich’s whole tagline is that they believe in “terroir”, believe in the people, believe in Islay. Blah blah blah. Jim McEwen believes in France with this bottle. “La Marseillaise” plays in my head immediately when I smell the glass. You get hit with bordeux, cognac, and vermouth. Intense exotic fruitiness comes after, and now the music changes to merengue. Papaya, guava jam, mangoes. Just when you think you’ve gone as far away from Islay as metaphysically possible, the brine brings you back. What all those fancy sweet French cognacs are missing, apparently, is a wee bit of salt. PALATE: Orgasmic. The eyes roll into the back of the head. The toes do curl. You can’t even describe the arrival or the first sip, and you have to taste again. The fruitiness is incredible and powerfully delivered by a thick, viscous, briny liquid. Strawberry jam, raisins, sultanas. This transitions into figs and dates. Then you get some nuttiness with almonds and cashews. Then it becomes sweet again. What a rollercoaster! FINISH: Like a good aged whisky, swallowing is the beginning of the experience. The nose is re-experienced in the aftersmell as vapors rise from the depths of the gullet back into the nose. It’s cognac and sherry, with a decent warmth of alcohol. I dare not add water to temper this beast. Ever so slowly, there is a transition to more familiar territory; after several minutes, the taste dries and saltiness dominates. Perhaps there is a hint, or just a memory, of ash; maybe from peaty gamma radiation from whatever nuclear malting processes Bruichladdich uses to produce Octomore. VERDICT: This is not for a single malt purist, and is the perfect discourse for those just looking for something that tastes amazing, and those looking for something that exemplifies single malt whisky. This is as French as it is Scottish. I don’t mind at all. Jim McEwen has created the end-all be-all of wine-finished whiskies. If you see a bottle, and you don’t hate wine finishes, buy it. I hope the 5.1 is as good. MARK: 96/100.

$8 for 1 oz at Silver Diner. My first and only experience with Chivas Regal was not a good one. I had it with a shrimp scampi, which it actually made taste worse. What in the world did they actually age for 12 years? The malt tastes 12 days old. Yes I get apples with a little honeysuckle. But I don't get aged whisky. What dominates after the apples is the cheapest of all ingredients: corn. Trash corn syrup makes this taste like it's already a mixed drink. This is the trashiest thing that's been aged 12 years since Lindsay Lohan. I liked Dewars White Label and maybe even JW Red better although I don't have any recent recollections from the latter. To be fare, no score, because the atmosphere was silver diner, and I got it to help me sleep after an 8 hour drive. I just don't see myself giving any Chivas Regal another chance.