This is not a review. For a review to actually be worth the paper it’s written on, or in our case, the bits and bytes expended, a bare minimum amount of objectivity is required - which in itself is actually ironic, since taste and smell together represent the epitome of subjectivity - but I digress. Aeons ago, Glenfiddich 12 was my first single malt. Prior to that, had come a medley of fancy-named, sugary cocktails, six-packs of the best advertised lagers, tall glasses of ice-cubed, cola-laden Johnnie Walker Reds (Black when I felt fancy, but keep the ice and the cola) and J&B on ice if I felt “sophisticated”. The ‘fiddich showed me an alternative path and I took it gladly, and for that my perception of it will forever be dramatically and irrevocably skewed - don’t ask me to free-associate, the word “ambrosia” comes to mind. My second single malt was Glenlivet 12, my third Glenmorangie 10 (yes, at the time I was painting by the numbers). I have reviewed both - dare I say, ahem, objectively - and you’re welcome to peruse my findings. As for the ‘fiddich, if you haven’t tried it yet, what are you waiting for, and if you have already, then nuff said. PS: All three musketeers have received an honorary rating of 4. Still on the look out for a d’Artagnan.