Tastes

The Balvenie Tun 1509 Batch 8 has no age statement, is bottled at 52.2% ABV, and costs around $500. Tis the time for noteworthy of the year mentions. Clynelish Jazz Crescendo 10 year was the best bottle of Scotch that I opened in 2023 (see my previous review). Balvenie 1509 Batch 8 was the most expensive bottle that I opened in 2023. And… it is worth the $500! But it is not as good as the Clynelish, which should tell you how much I love that Clynelish. The Balvenie is not that great of a distillery. They lack identity. They are at the doorstep of being luxury, and collectible, but not quite. The spirit does well with ex-bourbon maturations, but not as good as many other distilleries; the spirit does well with sherry cask maturations, but not as good as many other distilleries; they repeatedly try to do peaty special releases, and they are atrocious. Their core line-up from the 12 year to the 21 year port wood is boring. But their NAS TUN releases have been consistently captivating. This should be the flagship of Balvenie. I have sipped many Balvenie TUN releases over the years, but this is the only bottle that I have bought. Maybe there is some post-purchase rationalization, but this is the best TUN that I have tried. The 1401 releases were sherry bombs that now cost thousands of dollars on the secondary market, but those were released in an era of affordable single cask Glendronachs and decadent Macallan 18s for $200. Balvenie as a sherry bomb is simply meh. The 1509s, while not as celebrated as 1401 by whisky enthusiasts, offer better complexity and reflect what this distillery is about. Batch 8 is more sherry than bourbon influence, but that creamy, honied bourbon influence is essential to this Balvenie. The sweet, deep, dark raisin notes are the highlights of this whisky, but the balance is what makes it worth a half G. This is a vanilla cake with honey, marmalade, gingerbread crumble, and orange zest experience. I believe what Balvenie is trying to accomplish is to be inoffensive, and they are very good at that goal – you can give any whisky drinker a Balvenie for his or her birthday, and it won’t be a bad gift. However, what this Balvenie TUN batch 8 represents is a birthday gift that you can give to yourself, and it will be an exceptional, decadent experience.

Clynelish The Jazz Crescendo (2023 Diageo Special Release) is 10 years old, bottled at 57.5% ABV, aged exclusively in first fill ex-bourbon casks, and sells for around $230. To spoil the ending, this is the best bottle of Scotch that I have opened in 2023. Maybe there’s a recency bias, because I opened it a week ago, but I don’t think anything else comes close. An improv jazz crescendo is the perfect analogy for this whisky. It simultaneously displays an effortless harmony and a nervous tension between bold notes that battle for dominance whilst ebbing at just the right time to promote the larger picture of a soul-affirming ensemble. To defend the price, this whisky deserves to be at Octomore prices. The few people who have reviewed the Clynelish Special Releases from Diageo recently tend to lament the price. This magical age-to-price curve, and this addiction to “value” is a modern affliction. Strive to be better than the peasants. When you see a 24-year-old AnCnoc (sorry to be picking on AnCnoc – they have a solid 10-year-old offering) that is still on the shelf at $230, you should not be excited at the bargain, but you should be dubious about why this is still on the shelf (psst, because it’s garbage). When you see a 10-year-old whisky for $230, especially once you can determine that there isn’t too much spent on marketing fluff and packaging, you should be excited about why this whisky demands such a premium (psst, because it’s premium). The two-word theme of this Clynelish is “tropical island.” You are on a resort, and you are going straight from the beach to the jazz venue. The saltiness of the ocean is still on your lips as you sit down and indulge on a tropical fruit basket of pineapple, papaya, mango, and spritzes of lemon. The famed waxiness of Clynelish is ever present, coating everything like John Coltrane on the saxophone. And the spices, mainly cardamom, mint, and black pepper, play it cool like Chico Hamilton on the drums, occasionally and deftly becoming assertive on a long and contemplative finish. Do not add water to this experience. That would be like throwing a pitcher of water on a jazz band at the moment of climax. You need to be able to smell the sweat - the cost of art.

Lagavulin The Ink of Legends (12-year cask strength 2023 release) sells for around $200. This is the first Lagavulin 12 that is perhaps not a Lagavulin 12. Lagavulin 12, for Islay peatheads, is as recognizable and as traditional as Jesus Christ. Recently, the powers that be, have decided that Jesus needs to be more modern, leading up to the 2022 version, The Flames of the Phoenix, which included some virgin oak cask-finishing. That release was very nice, and, in my opinion, worth the $170 that I paid for it. It was Jesus Christ with eye-liner and a Bohemian neck warmer, but I could still tell it was Jesus. This 2023 version has been finished in Don Julio Anejo Tequila barrels. It is, on the nose, still Lagavulin 12 – a saline, peppery, beefy beast that seems even more awesome than any prior release that I’ve nosed. The tequila barrels, on the nose, are beautifully sympathetic to the base whisky, adding power to the Son of Islay without bringing any attention to tequila. On the palate, however, tequila vies for attention, and when you smack your mouth and do the gustatory equivalent of squinting your eyes, it’s hard to tell if this is still Jesus Christ, or Jared Leto playing Jesus Christ. This is the sweetest Lagavulin 12 for sure. But the sweetness is a honied agave sweetness that immediately clashes with the oak, ash and citrus notes of a normal Lagavulin 12. I suppose the idea is to invoke the layman’s association between tequila, salt, and limes; but that is a terrible combination. If your goal is to knock back some Patron and get shitfaced, then I guess salt and limes can be a good distraction from the alcohol burn, but it is actually not a good flavor combination. I will stop short of calling this release blasphemous, because a cask-strength Lagavulin spirit aged in a bourbon barrel for around 12 years is such a rugged specimen that it can withstand strange cask finishes. But I will call this release disappointing because the cask finish seems to so unnecessary and adds nothing except some confusion to the palate and finish. I have always felt that Lagavulin 12 can be $200 on the shelf, and I would be happy to pay that price. Now that they finally release a $200 bottling, they fuck up, and this bottle is not worth it. What’s frustrating is that their intentions were clearly not to rip off the consumer by cutting costs in production; their intentions were to try and make a truly impeccable and timeless whisky more appealing to the new marketing target of the whisky industry: faithless newly minted adults who are actually still children.

I have not written a negative review in a long time, but my least favorite “holiday” has me in the mood for such an endeavor. Hoe costumes, candy, and free handouts – Hallowe’en combines three of the biggest threats to a productive society. This is a review of Amrut Little Greedy Angels Chairman’s Reserve 8-year-old bottled at 50% ABV. This sells for $360-400. Non-Scottish scotches are across-the-board bad value now and are for those looking for novelty rather than quality. While the Indian malts have not become unpurchasable if you want to open bottles and drink them, unlike Japanese malts. But the Indian malts are still disappointing. And, in retrospect, even opening older versions of vaunted bottlings like Yamazaki 18 or Amrut Spectrum, I realize that these things were never better than good Scotches, and never deserving of the excess demand forced upon them by attention-seeking reviewers. Greedy Angels is nowhere near the quality of Amrut Spectrum. I admire the bravado and transparency to slap an 8-year-old age statement on a bottle and still charge $400, and I know about the truth that, in tropical climates, the liquid in casks evaporate much quicker, hence the moniker “Greedy Angels.” But it is a myth that you can then equate an 8-year-old Indian whisky to a 16-24 year old Scotch. Scotches that spend a long time in the right casks become beautifully refined and soft. I have never experienced a single malt from India, or Taiwan, or Tasmania that has been able to shortcut that refinement and softness. This 8-year-old whisky tastes like a good 8 year old whisky. There are no new make spirit flavors remaining, but it is still a brash and in-your-face experience. The tropical climate aging has not expedited the softening of this pour, but it has turned it into an infinity bottle type experience. As in, your non-master-blender-infinity-bottle that swallows $100+ whiskies and, alas, always manages to be the whisky version of someone with schizoaffective disorder off his meds. There are notes of meat, tobacco, ginger, mandarins, lemons, tropical fruits, and dried fruits with a modest amount of smoke, but there is an overriding alcohol bite, yeastiness, and acidity that I did not enjoy, for the price of this whisky. It is, in terms of aesthetics, loud and akin to the hoe costumes of Hallowe’en. I bought my bottle for $400. I would have been happy with the purchase if it were $100.

Ardnamurchan AD bottlings sell for around $65 Now that I can’t buy Springbank 10 for less than $100, I’m thinking these no-age statement Ardnamurchan vattings of various casks are the best single malts you can buy at this crowded $50-75 price point… maybe Port Charlotte 10 is up there as well, but, Good Lord, an old-school full-flavored entry level single malt is hard to come by these days. I’ve gone through two bottles of Ardnamurchan AD, and I did not record the actual bottling dates, but the two bottles were from different releases, and they did not taste noticeably different. These whiskies are exquisitely balanced blends that give you the full Scotch experience with a noticeable touch of peat and oiliness bolstering a wide variety of notes: umami, pepper, citrus, grass, tobacco, and toffee. A beginner will still find this potable, but an experienced Scotch enthusiast would be quite mesmerized by this, especially if it is a blind pour. The blending skill evokes Compass Box, but because this is all from one distillery, it is of course a single malt. This is the pinnacle of the newer distilleries from Scotland and is an illustration of how you start building a reputation with young stock: meticulous blending and fair pricing. There is no better version of this flavor profile on the shelves that I’ve tried – no more expensive bottle that I could recommend as a “if you like this style, buy want to spend a little more for something similar but better” because there is nothing similar. The old-school bottling that this old-school whisky reminds me the most of is an extinct expression, Ardmore Traditional Cask, a gem of a whisky that I used to pick up for less than $40. Memories.

Octomore 13.2 sells for around $300. If the thought of dissolving the dregs of a charcoal cookout in ethanol has ever entered your mind, then this is the whisky for you. The price will be the price for Octomore. It’s not about the age, it’s about the spirit you put into a cask and what the cask does to the whisky. Lagavulin and Laphroaig have forced peat and Oloroso sherry to go on longer dates, but those are failures when compared to Octomore 13.2. This is the pinnacle for the BBQ in a dram style. I have numerous friends who say that once they go Octomore, they cannot go back to anything else. That’s what I am pushing these days. Buy the best alcohol that you can barely afford with your disposable income, and don’t worry about “I can buy 2.5 Lagavulin 16s with the money this bottle is asking me to spend.” Fuck Lagavulin 16, you don’t need that tame watered-down shit. You need the best expression at what it expresses, and you deserve no less. Buy this. Buy this.

Redbreast 21 sells for around $300. This is one of those still timeless expressions that both the novice drinker and the enthusiast will appreciate and is one of the few whiskies that I love as much today as when I started getting into whisky about 10 years ago. If you are still new to whiskies, and you are still trying to calibrate your palette, then probably try the Redbreast 12, and other less expensive whiskies as you go along. But, if you already know what you like, there is no need to have a “daily sipper” – you shouldn’t be drinking everyday – just buy the best good shit that you can afford, and there is no need to slum with the Redbreast 12’s, although that is a very respectable slum. Redbreast 21 is the pinnacle of that soft, velvety, creamy yet potent cookie dough, apple pie, tropical fruit, and dessert spices experience. 46% is perfect. I have finished a bottle of their 27-year-old cask strength expression, and that was interesting, but it’s not the right energy. If you want a cashmere sweater hug by candlelight, in an inebriating liquid that should in no way replace human contact, then Redbreast 21. Buy it. Buy it. If you can only afford one bottle a year. Buy it.

Have the Glen Grant 15 year instead of the Hakushu 12 year. I remember when the Hakushu 12 year old was abundant on store shelves for $60, and it tasted like it should cost much more. I recently had the opportunity to try a newer bottling of the Hakushu 12 year at a decent $21 for 1.5 oz pour, and I was disappointed. If you find Hakushu 12 on store shelves these days, it’s around $200, but now it tastes like it should be back to $60. You know what I found marked down to $60 recently? This Glen Grant 15 year batch strength 1st edition from 2018. The box was dusty. And there are plenty more dusty boxes of these at liquor shops. Why does nobody care about Glen Grant? Jim Murray awarded some Yamazaki whisky of the year way back when, and the entire world lost their damn minds not only for Yamazaki, but for all whisky from Japan. Jim Murray had been calling Glen Grant 18 the best Scotch whisky for years, and nobody formed a line to snatch up the Glen Grant 18, or any other Glen Grant. Glen Grant makes awesome single malts, and this one is an exceptional example. 50% ABV is my favorite ABV - it is simply the sweet spot. And pure ex-bourbon maturations are my favorite type of maturation - it simply lets the spirit do the talking, and you don’t get that creeping feeling that fancy shenanigan casks are being used to hide flaws. This beauty is meditatively precise in its flavors, and absolutely reminds me of the glory days of the Hakushu 12 year and Japanese whisky in general. The notes are vanilla, graham crackers, lemon, lime, hay, tea, fennel, cloves, and just the right touch of bitter spicy oakiness. This is more Hakushu than Hakushu, which I believe is slightly polluted by a touch of peat and sherry influence. This is Scotch whisky in such a pure, beautiful form; it is THE TRUTH. Look here, I believe Chivas Regal is absolute garbage (because they clearly use crap grain whisky in their blends to add volume and profit margins), but the backbone single malt in their blends, Glen Grant, is an underappreciated treasure. I am going to paraphrase Tom Cruise’s character from The Last Samurai: They are an intriguing distillery. From the moment they wake, they devote themselves to the perfection of a clean ex-bourbon maturation. I have never seen such discipline. This bottle; bottles from this distillery, should not be commonplace on shelves. They deserve the rabid acclaim that Japanese whisky received after a Jim Murray award. It should be that if I am lucky enough to behold a bottle on a shelf, I weep in joy. This bottle should cost what a bottle of batch strength Yamazaki 15 year costs: 3 million dollars.

Bardstown released a rye? Just take my money. Rye, as we all know, is superior to bourbon. There’s so much more depth and complexity when that rye makes up the majority of the mash bill. Bardstown, as we all know, is the shit. Their pricing is controversial, especially if you look under the hood too critically with that whole “what’s in the juice” mindset. For example, this blended rye, is a blend of 6-7 year old 95% Indiana rye and 12 year old 100% Canadian corn whisky being sold for $150-200. That sounds steep, but I feel Bardstown is perfectly priced for market demand. Nobody is lining up, entering lotteries, or giving sexual favors to liquor store owners for these special releases; but they do sell out within a few weeks where I’m at. People who are looking for something unique and tasty, not necessarily people who want the same old bourbon and rye notes over and over, just know to grab these Bardstown special releases. So, for this release, Bardstown teams up with a cooperage in West Virginia, and they used cherry wood charred with infrared lasers, because fire is just so uncivilized. You would expect that such fancy technology to deliver a sterile, precise rye, but this is a dirty dram. There are so many interesting notes here that go beyond the standard rye. There is an immediate warm and inviting fragrance of baking a cake. Like so many good ryes, it feels like Christmas! But then, oh wait, there are deeper layers that are a little briny, a little funky, a little earthy. Very few North American whiskies have me nosing the glass like a good Scotch. The palate is why Bardstown can charge a premium. Don’t ask what’s in the juice; just taste the juice. There is just impeccable balance and bravado to this blend. The fruitiness is big; the cherries are there. There is a lot of sweetness, but it’s countered by big smoky woodiness. The rye spices are there, but they are not trying to steal the show. The mouthfeel is oily and creamy, more so than any rye I’ve tasted. Who knew that a little bit Canadian corn whiskey is exactly what a rye needs to take it to the next level? Alternatives: More affordable and easier to find: Stellum Rye ($50-60). If you want to know what blended Indiana rye can do for you if a no frills delicious presentation, you can’t go wrong with this. More extravagant and harder to find: Kentucky Owl 10 year old straight rye batch #3 ($200-250). If you can still find this bottle, it’s worth the money. Whereas, this Bardstown rye will give you things to talk about as you sip with your whiskey buddy; there’s not much to say about this Kentucky Owl – it’s just curl-your-toes delicious.

My whisky journey has been going on for about 13 years now. I have been down that whisky evangelist, whisky reviewer path of high ABV, non-colored, non-chill-filtered, simple packaging, informative labeling before. It leads to a small suburban neighborhood with similar-minded folks, with exquisite oak sticks stuck up their bum holes, trying not to get drunk off a single pour of shit that’s like 62% alcohol by talking about their experience. I am done with that. Glenfiddich Grand Cru 23-year-old checks all of my new boxes: - It is at the bare minimum 40% ABV - It very likely has artificial coloring - It is very likely chill-filtered - It comes in a fancy box, with a rotating pedestal, a baroque two-step bottle release mechanism, and a gorgeous, heavy, black bottle that would make Macallan jealous. You are absolutely paying a premium for this presentation. Removing the tongue from my cheek, there is nothing wrong with this presentation. Normal people enjoy this kind of stuff. And the whisky lover in me who now simply enjoys great tasting and unique spirits, also enjoys this. If you are a whisky traditionalist, this whisky is not for you. On the whisky flavor wheel, this is missing entire spokes. It is more like a flavor triangle, like the shape of Glenfiddich bottles. The Grand Cru 23-year-old is intensely fruity, somewhat floral, and a little earthy and chalky. That’s it. You literally get a sparkling white wine or, of course, champagne crossover into a 40% ABV spirit that, to the champagne connoisseur, will be intense; but, to the whisky connoisseur, will be juice. But, as such, this is utterly unique and, in its own way, beautiful. There is no saltiness, no smokiness, no maltiness, no spiciness at all in this whisky. Fuck that Scottish shit. I remember bringing this to a Christmas party last year and people who were beer drinkers, people who were wine drinkers, people who were sure that they hated Scotch, all loved this whisky. And I loved this whisky among good company; and I love this whisky on occasion without company. It serves me well when I am looking for a champagne experience in a WHISKY that I can re-cork and put away to enjoy again months later. I don’t need that raw, hard, full cask strength experience all the time. You can’t be thug life all the time. I have enjoyed this whisky so much that I searched for a similar fragrance for my bathroom and landed on a reed diffuser from Jo Malone called “Pear and Freesia.” Freesia is a type of iris. This Grand Cru 23-year-old is at its best on the nose. It is a blast of apples, pears, white grapes, and strawberries. The floral notes are inseparable from the fruity notes as this is reminiscent of fruity-smelling flowers (like freesia). The palate is on the lighter side, and the finish is short, but both are pleasant enough, and the champagne influence is unambiguous and makes this whisky unique, because what other whisky tastes like a high-end champagne? This bottle is slightly north of $300. Like all whiskies that I take the time to review now, it is worth it. For my alternative recommendations, I am looking for whiskies that are all about an intense fruitiness with mass appeal. Easier to get alternative: Compass Box Orchard House ($50). Bigtime apples and pears you will get. But, also, there are definitely young malts that add cereal notes, and, being young and at 46%, this one definitely bites harder than the Glenfiddich. Harder to get alternative: Johnnie Walker Blue Label Ghost and Rare Pittyvaich ($400 and hard to find). Same intense and rich pear and flower notes as this Glenfiddich, but also much more satisfying for traditional whisky connoisseurs due to the addition of maltiness and smokiness.