Proper No. Twelve Irish Whiskey

This is a strange chameleon for me. Writing this with the last ounce of the bottle in my glass. Some nights it seems to offer more than others. Tonight is a good night for this bottle. N: Peach and pear orchard fruits. Some floral, cola, and wood scents. Not terribly fragrant. Some ethanol, but not more than expected at the price point. P: The label proclaims "vanilla, honey, and toasted oak." I'll give it that. It is oddly rich and watery at the same time - thin at the tip of the tongue, almost syrupy on the sides. There are also some cereal and bread pudding like notes. Milk chocolate builds in the finish. The finish is all wood. It has that pungent tannic feeling of a cheap bourbon - more tannic even with just a hint of the black licorice that usually dominates the finish of those drams. Here, the finish is balanced, but meek: primarily a woodsy bitterness, then some almost sour black licorice, and finally a cinnamon spice that dies quickly, returning you to the bitterness of the beginning. On bad nights, this is has no nose and is only bitter with a touch of black licorice. On good nights, it reminds me of Jameson (well duh since that's the goal: a better Jameson). Tonight, I got quite a bit more, probably the best it's been. I had this elaborate allegory about how drinking this is like getting in the ring with McGregor, he winds up to deliver a roundhouse to your face, time slows (as it would), and you catch a whiff of "vanilla, honey, and toasted oak" as his foot harmlessly passes your face. He missed, you realize. That's this whiskey. You expect an awful kick to the head, but instead it's a mildly pleasant miss. Don't think I'm gonna use it, but I guess that's also most of the allegory. You get it.