I’ve come back to JW Black after a long time, this time in a Glencairn, and I’m honestly shocked at how much depth it has. The nose opens with sherried sweetness — dried fruits and a faint tang — sitting above a secondary oakiness. Vanilla and honey peek through, and there’s a subtle damp, briny coastal note, with a whisper of peat coming forward as the glass sits. There’s also a grounded, clean earthiness that balances the sweeter elements. On the palate, it’s smooth and clean, with oak and dried fruit leading the way, accompanied by a subtle side-of-the-tongue sweetness. There’s a hint of tanginess towards the finish, which adds a nice lift. The peat, subtle at first, becomes more apparent with successive drams, giving structure and that faint coastal smoke. The mouthfeel is comfortably middle-of-the-road — not thick or thin — perfect for its 40% ABV. The finish is short to medium, warming, and leaves a lingering impression of gentle peat, tang, and sweetness. What surprises me is how much this blend punches above its strength; it feels far richer and more complex than its modest ABV suggests. I can pick out some of the single malts behind the layers — Caol Ila for peat, Highland Park or Cardhu for honey and oak, Glendullan for sherry influence, and the grain whisky for smooth balance. It’s a perfect demonstration of blending as an art, showing how multiple malts combine into something greater than the sum of its parts. At £23 a bottle, it’s an absolute bargain — approachable, layered, and rewarding. I honestly understand now why it’s been a staple on every bar shelf, but in a rocks glass, so much of this subtlety is lost. JW Black is a blend I can return to again and again, and each time it rewards attention.