Auchroisk is not exactly a well known distillery with a significant presence on store shelves. And so it’s always a pleasure and interesting to find some expression, especially an older one like this. Let’s see how it stacks up!
Nose: Purple flowers. Why purple? I don’t know. But it does smell like purple flowers. Not lavender though. Some other purple flower. It’s not easy getting past that floweriness and diving deeper into the nose because it’s quite snappy like a tense cat. Approach at an angle it doesn’t like and you get bit. Quite pretty but flowery noses aren’t generally my thing. (6.7/10)
Palate: The flowery notes don’t go away but they cease to be flowery. Probably because someone has set the bouquet on fire and then tried (and failed) to put it out with honey water. (7.3/10)
Finish: A quite wonderful heat spreads down the back of the throat toeing but not crossing the line to discomfort. The flavors however do not keep up with the heat leaving little but prickly sparkles of mild bitterness along the roof of the mouth. (7.1/10)
Balance: I think some folks would like this a lot more than I do but it’s just not well aligned with my preferences. For me it’s a decent dram that doesn’t quite manage to deliver on its innate potential. (7.2/10)
This cask strength Speysider came out of a refill hogshead hotheaded and with a temper even after 21 years of ageing. Auchroisk doesn’t do a lot of official releases and most of it seems to go straight into J&B so it’s usually only available in this form of an independent bottling. I find them to generally be on the brighter and sharper side but, of course, it’s hard to tell if that’s the real distiller profile with such limited exposure.
Nose: Hothothot! Ok, phew, that was just the first hit fresh out of the glass. Now I can actually smell something… lemon batter mixed with straw? Hard to get much out of this… after that initial violent burst of alcohol it settles into a somewhat restrained state. (7.8/10)
Palate: A small, fiery, angry black hole centered on the middle of my tongue seems to draw everything around it inwards while refusing to give anything up. There’s a compact, spatially contained fierceness to it. Then some bright flavors. But everything seems to want to stay low following a flat profile across my tongue. I would have expected this one to expand upwards but it’s simply not wanting to do anything like that until much later. Some chewing and swishing finally unleashes this beasty and releases it to freedom. It still doesn’t want to expand upwards but rather drives a heated cloud of flavor straight into the back of my throat. I can’t pinpoint the notes but it’s good and still vaguely related to the batter from the nose. Perhaps we’re baking the lemon-straw tart now? (8.6/10)
Finish: A few sips in I become aware of a burgeoning heat in the back of my throat that later fills up with flavor as well. The heat manages to push and plow its way down behind my sternum until it reaches almost all the way to my solar plexus. (8.2/10)
Balance: There’s a bit of a struggle involved in coaxing this one out of its fiery, angry shell. But it’s worth it. If only the nose gave up a little more of the treasures and secrets hidden deep inside its tense and fiery little heart. (8.2/10)
The mere 162 bottles of Ardbeg yielded by this particular ex-Bourbon cask turned out to be a very unique expression of a fuzzed out, warm blanket of peaty comfort. Come on in from the biting cold, kick back and relax. A forceful Islay take on what the Germans refer to as Gemütlichkeit. Almost as much of a meal as it is a drink.
Nose: Wait, is my backyard burning down? No. It’s probably just this nose right here. Meaty chunks of sweet peat drizzled with Bordelaise sauce, roasting in a cast iron frying pan over an open fire. Just what the doctor ordered after getting a vigorous back rub with heavily charred wood blocks wrapped in plum skins. I should really check on the backyard though. But that would mean getting up and walking away from this whisky. And that’s just crazy-talk. Over time the nose diminishes just a little. Or maybe it’s simply numbing my sensory apparatus.(8.6/10)
Palate: Prickly chocolate-peat cactus. Spikey bursts of peat bob around in a sea of chocolate milk. The chocolate milk has a thick, almost oily and rather coarse texture to it and leaves a similar coating on my tongue. Clearly whole, perhaps even raw milk was used, and the chocolate wasn’t ground too finely. You can almost eat this with a fork. Later bursts of smoke rise up, nearly a little bitter, as if the whisky has smoldered its way through all of it’s wood and peat resources.(8.9/10)
Finish: A vigorous burn develops on the sides of my tongue and the very back of my throat. Chocolate smoke rises from the depths and fills my head like a balloon. Breathing out is fun with this one. Everything alights and all the embers bloom. I wish it showed more presence deep in my chest but that’s really the only complaint I have. (8.8/10)
Balance: This is quite something. Beautiful. It has a much broader, deeper, warmer and fuzzier structure of peat than I’d usually associate with Ardbeg. I tend to perceive Ardbeg peat as a powerful, sharp blade slicing through my skull like a masterfully crafted Katana. This, however, is big, satisfying and comforting. I love it. A lot. (8.8/10)
Matured in heavily charred Ex-Bourbon casks and bottled for Ardbeg Day 2021 this is Ardbeg’s latest Committee Release and it is one hell of a unique and interesting experience. Every year these bottles are gone in seconds and by day 2 what’s left in stores fetches double or triple the MSRP. But they’re almost always worth the trouble. Looking forward to comparing it to the bottle strength version soon to be released more widely during the time of Feis Ile 2021.
Nose: When you burn food until there’s splintery bits so charred you can’t tell if they once were food or just wood. Something acidic… like a lemon and vanilla glaze underneath. Almost metallic eventually. Later sweeter notes emerge that ever so slowly evolve into bulging, fuzzy, warm, peaty… blood orange juice poured over a mix of slices from ripe and not so ripe bananas. Does this thing ever stop changing? Between the experience of nosing this whisky straight out of a freshly opened bottle and the experience of nosing it out of one that had a chance to breathe lies a vast and inexplicable chasm. And yet the two are closely related. (9.0/10)
Palate: A large piece of sheet metal, coated with lacquer made from charred wood and ashes, slices horizontally through the palate, leaving nothing alive in its path, heading straight for the back of the throat. Deliberate chewing of subsequent sips awakens flavor in the front but this whisky is not one willing to expand vertically. All moisture has disappeared from my mouth. Lost I wander across the bitter ashes of the tortured plains leading up to the Morannon. (8.3/10)
Finish: The finish lives almost entirely on the air flowing in and out of my lungs. On each breath out, charred embers light up brightly, emitting sharp, acidic smoke. Breathe carefully… this one will make you cough. A drop of water proves to be the magic key. Suddenly the missing dimension of expansion appears and the finish begins to fill the skull. Countless additional notes and flavors appear to create a much more dense, complex and deep experience than one would have expected from first impressions. And, mind you, a much more lasting one too. The staying power of this finish is astonishing. (9.7/10)
Balance: Without water this is the mystical experience of a lifeless, burnt desert covered with the charred traces of a terrible wildfire. With water this becomes an intense, smoldering, smoke-laden alcoholic tea extracted from those very remnants. This is a difficult one to grasp. It’s both very Ardbeg and not Ardbeg at all. Fresh out of an unopened bottle it is almost a bit unfriendly and unwilling to explain itself. Give this a good amount of time and one tiny drop of water. It will turn into a great friend to have a long conversation with. If you don’t make the effort, I’m afraid, you’ll soon forget almost all about this one and move on to lesser drams. The greatest weakness of this whisky, such as it has one, is most certainly its palate. But since the finish almost serves as a palate-like experience this imperfection can be forgiven. (8.8/10)
Independent bottlings of Aberlour single malts are less common than those of other distilleries. Even more atypical is the absence of any sherry aging or finishing. As such this particular release represents a wonderful opportunity to experience the true heart of Aberlour’s spirit, laid bare, undecorated and without the fanfare of, say, an explosive A’Bunadh. Not that those aren’t great. Don’t get me wrong.
Nose: A mild spring breeze, carrying the scent of high quality hard orange candy, wafts along a linen sheet, just out of the wash and still minty fresh, hung out to dry on a pale bleached wooden rack in the early sun. A light breeze is all there is though. It never grows bigger or bolder than that even if one covers the glass. The only noticeable change is that, over time, the minty notes gradually morph into citrus ones, mostly fresh cut lemons. (7.5/10)
Palate: Oh, wow… damn… what??? The nose did *not* give that away. Like at all. Kaboom! This took the mild sunlit spring breeze of the nose and turned it into a glorious spectacle of a psychedelic spring storm, as if you’re experiencing all the same things while on mushrooms. Rich, flavorful, assertive, it overwhelms your unsuspecting senses. The orange candy is still there. So is the citric acid. So is the bright light. But all of it has been dialed up to 11 without losing any of its internal balance. Amazing… (9.5/10)
Finish: After that cosmic cataclysm of a palate the finish requires conscious effort just to remember there is one and to register its presence with your senses. On any other whisky it would be a grand finish but here it can barely make itself heard over the ringing echoes of the palate in my mind. Not as much warmth spreading through the chest as one might expect from a whisky of this strength. Most of the whisky’s heat seems to want to form a glow at the top and back of the throat. The orange candy theme steadily continues and ultimately settles into a lasting, pleasant coating. (8.5/10)
Balance: What a palate! But make sure to sit and focus on the finish as well. It takes time to assert itself but inevitably it will. And it’s worth the wait. This is good. Very good. Which is a good thing because this bottle ain’t exactly cheap. (9.2/10)
Amrut’s 88th batch of their NAS cask strength series hits hard at 61.8% ABV and, at first, it is not all that pleasant. It shows up like some friend’s uninvited acquaintance, loud, obnoxious and abrasive. But, given enough time, it relaxes significantly and turns into a welcome addition to the party.
Nose: Vanilla infused wood decaying in a damp forest. Some burnt toasted rye bread. Later a bowl of translucent chocolate pudding rises from the depths. It really is oddly dry for something birthed in such a moist arboreal environment. (8.1/10)
Palate: Musty tree bark, lichen-infused coffee grounds and some dog hair stuck to a dried up old chocolate bar that got lost under the sofa somehow. (8.9/10)
Finish: A deep, comforting warmth unfolds and spreads quite quickly until it fills out the entire chest cavity. Remnants of old bits of wood and bark and chocolate dust remain on the desiccated palate, slowly adding up to hints of dried shiitake and porcini mushrooms. (8.6/10)
Balance: This really, seriously, not kidding, requires a good amount of time in the glass. Give it an hour or so to relax and air out its grievances. It’s a bit rough and bumpy right out of the bottle but, if you have the patience to wait, it’ll slowly evolve into a glorious old mess of decay and natural flavors and scents as if your are digging with bare hands through the wet leaf-covered floor of an autumnal forest foraging for wild mushrooms. (8.7/10)
LVMH Moët Hennessy – Louis Vuitton SE via Glenmorangie
Series
Ardbeg Day Committee Release
Style
Single Malt Whisky
Peated
Yes
Cask
Bourbon Cask Maturation, Rum Cask Finish
Bottled
November 2018
Strength
52% (104 proof)
Price
$145-250
Nose: Smoke drifts past freshly ground metal shavings used to season a barrel of mackerels. Right after the bottle was cracked open there was some mild sour fruit rising out of and above the smoke but that element was quickly aired out. (9/10)
Palate: A slightly bitter and tangy kernel hides out in a fluffy cloud of smoke. (7/10)
Finish: Smoke tentatively probes the back of my mouth but is too scared to jump off the ledge down into my throat even though there is a cushy pile of embers to land on at the bottom. (8/10)
Balance: Just a bit off in the middle but otherwise very nice. We have not yet returned to the level of the grand old Ardbeg Day releases such as the original Supernova or the stupendous Rollercoaster. (8/10)
LVMH Moët Hennessy – Louis Vuitton SE via Glenmorangie
Series
Ardbeg Day Committee Release
Style
Single Malt Whisky
Peated
Yes
Cask
Recharred Red Wine Casks
Bottled
November 23rd, 2017
Strength
51.5% (103.2 proof)
Price
$115-300
Nose: Dark smoke, earth and coarse bark mulch. (9/10)
Palate: Broad, root-y, a little like licking rough bark but without the stabbiness and cuttiness of it. (8/10)
Finish: Deep and broad, wild mushrooms. Porcini? (10/10)
Balance: Just… lovely. (9/10)
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