Springbank Green 12 Year

SPRINGBANK SPAWN SHOWDOWN Springbank Green 12-Year Hazelburn 14-Year Oloroso Cask Springbank 12-Year x Hazelburn 14-Year Frankenstein Edition There I was at the end of a long day: encamped in the sunroom, feet propped up on a teak table, enjoying the fading pastel colors of a sunset harbor, and thinking about the Springbank Green 12-Year I had started writing notes on a few days prior. I walked to my bar and secured it along with a Hazelburn 14-Year Oloroso Cask (it also being a Springbank) and carried both bottles back, first removing the Springbank Green from its darker green box and pouring its pale late-sun yellow into a clear Glencairn glass. Looking out over the water, I nonchalantly removed the Hazelburn from its stubborn grey box and began pouring it into the second glass. Except it wasn’t the second glass. It was the first. I’d sacrilegiously comingled two beautiful and pure single malts into some seemingly grotesque spawn, and loudly cursed the stupidity of my (sober) error. Mortlach has its “Beast of Dufftown,” and I suddenly possessed my “Campbeltown Frankenstein.” I confessed my sin and contemplated an appropriate penance. Which was: I’d just have to drink it. Thinking about my predicament, I recalled that the bourbon world had their so-called “infinity” bottles, which are in essence the dregs of every empty bottle someone has ever drunk. Why they’re called “infinity” I have no idea, other than the fact that they’re infinitely bad. I recalled that I’d tried starting my own infinity bottle back in the day, but the end result tasted worse than White Dog—both types. Carrying these mixed thoughts to their logical origin, I stumbled upon the realization that it’s actually the Scots who lay claim to the notion of “infinity” bottles: they’ve been doing it for over two centuries, and they call it Blended Scotch Whisky. They even package it in pretty blue bottles and charge an enormous premium for the privilege of hiding the e150 from the naked eye. In this way so-called “Master Blenders” have duped legions of connoisseurs for decades. Yet I myself had just become a Master Blender from the comfort of my own couch. My penance was a pittance: the Springbank Green 12-Year x Hazelburn 14-Year Oloroso Cask “Campbeltown Frankenstein” was actually pretty damn good. As expected, its color was halfway between the pale straw Springbank Green and the dark mahogany Hazelburn Oloroso. The nose was wonderful, with raisiny notes from the Hazelburn, orange oil and grass notes from the Springbank, and some roasted candied peanuts and sweet crème brûlée. The palate was oily, with salt and a faint hint of the peanut brittle aspect that I associate with Springbank. The finish was long, with expected sherry notes, honey, Snickers bar, some cooling mint, and a smokiness that is neither present in the Green or the Hazelburn. While at first I feared a Frankenstein, fortune flummoxed that fate. The sweetness and smoke initially reminded me of Talisker Distiller’s Edition, or perhaps Talisker 18, and I walked back to the bar to get both, and poured a bit of each to check. The Talisker DE was too peaty on the nose, but the 18 is softer, and the comparison was somewhat apt—though the 18’s finish is gently peaty whereas the Frankenstein is smoke. It’s worth noting that in the kiln, Springbank’s malted barley gets 6 hours of peat smoke and 30 hours of hot air, which gives it a subtle smokiness. Hazelburn gets no peat smoke; but the combination of the two exacerbates the smoke from the Springbank Green. Would I blend it again? I’ll pray for such a happy accident, but the scarcity of these two parents makes the foray cost prohibitive. Absent that, the answer is: yes. In fact, I’d bottle and resell it. 4.75 on the Distiller scale. Springbank Green 12-Year Bright and pale straw color. Penetrating nose carries aromas of honey, orange oil, honeysuckle, sweet hay, pear, candied lemon, strawberries and cream, pineapple upside-down cake, very light peat smoke. The palate is subtly oily, with more fruitiness, finishing with spicy chilies and a lingering strawberries and vanilla cream note above a subtle smokiness. The Springbank Green 12-Year has a certain purity to it: uncolored, it is focused, with a fruity and natural earthiness in a farm-to-table sort of way. Its artisanality adds a romantic quality. This whisky can be found online for $500-1,000, due to its dwindling scarcity. Would I buy it again? Not at those prices, but unequivocally yes at whatever the price was that I paid for it. Very, very good. 4.5 on the Distiller scale. 46% ABV. No e150 coloring. Non chill filtered. Hazelburn 14-Year Oloroso Cask Dark mahogany color. Raisins and sweet dates leap from the glass, along with pralines, fresh peppercorns, molasses, cocoa powder, smoked meat, orange chocolates, and demerara sugar. The rush of sweetness continues on the palate, with some alcohol on the back end. The finish is long, with a not unpleasant rubbery petrol, cumin, mole sauce, cinnamon, chocolate, and the smoked meat that was present on the nose all combining for a symphonic encore. Delicious. It’s hard to not be influenced by the artisanal aspects of Springbank. They do everything on site. And why should one ignore it? With vertical integration, they control the entire process, which highlights craftsmanship as well as quality. This Hazelburn expression can be found online for $400-600+. Would I buy it again? Yes (at the much lower price that I paid), which is the case with any Springbank. Absolutely delicious. 4.5+ on the Distiller scale. 49.3% ABV. No e150 coloring. Non chill filtered. 9,600 bottles. Distilled October 2004; bottled February 2019. All spirits tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

Nose: Clean and grassy Palate: Green apples, toast Finish: Long and funky

I couldn't decide which whisk(e)y to have this evening, so I reached for the Springbank Green 12, and realized that I'd yet to review it--even if it's already 20% gone. I rarely see Springbank of any sort in my neck of the woods, so I don't drink it often. (Separately, I was recently at Trevor's in Scottsdale, AZ and they had more bottles of Springbank than I've ever seen in one place--but that's another story). The first thing one notices upon removing the bottle from its box, and even moreso when pouring, is its pale straw color; Springbank proudly notes on the back of the bottle that it is "free of artificial colouring." The nose shows peach, hay, salt, pineapple upside-down cake, a whiff of smoke, and gentle peat. The palate is full, almost oily, with both sweet and salty elements, and the 46% ABV becomes apparent. White pepper and smokiness on the long finish. 4.25 on the Distiller scale. Apparently this expression is no longer available, as it does not appear on the Springbank website at the time of writing. An Internet search shows that this bottle is available for $700-800, and while I don't recall what I paid for it a few years back, I believe it was around $100. Only 9,000 bottles produced. 46% ABV, non-chill filtered. 100% organic barley. Aged in American bourbon casks. As always, tasted neat in a Glencairn glass.

EXPLORATION: The nose is vanilla, creamy orange, with a dash of peat. Tastes briney and a bit oily—though not overly so. Getting a slight mint with that orange that was present in the smell. Some bitterness in the center. Apricot finish. Pleasant but my life wasn’t changed. I’d like to try again at some point. EXHORTATION: Seek for a worthwhile dram, but not necessarily over other Springbank expressions.

Very light peat, not overly complex.