Batch 204

Softly stewing plums, raspberry and sweet red fruit arrive first, then marzipan. This turns into summer pudding and bruised apricot, with added orange. Steadily, it becomes more vinous, something that’s amplified with water, though you now also have a mixture of blueberry ice cream, slivovitz [plum brandy] and tayberry.

The same red and blue fruits are here, as is Madeira’s thickness. So, thankfully, is its acidity, which stops things getting too flabby. By the middle of the tongue you’re getting some roasting spices, then light tannin and some of the sweet cooked fruits. Water makes it fatter, but still balanced. In time, it is all fruit pies and light oak.

Light cream, then some acidity.

Soft and winey. An easy-going dram.

‘Go on,’ he said, twirling his moustache. ‘Have Some Madeira, M’Dear.’

(Dave Broom)

Very pale, but there’s good, real Deanston character here, with things sliding towards the waxy side, backed with an almost savoury maltiness. In time you get sealing wax, new drum skin and a hint of flowers. Water crushes it.

A sweet start, then comes oiled-up cereal. It opens very slowly, showing tantalising glimpses of flowers and fruits (Haribo-like in flavour and texture) but they never fully emerge. With water you get increased waxiness and some cow gum [rubber-based glue].

Cereal once again.

At the moment it’s at mise en place stage, showing you what it could be.

But in my defence, I Never Said I Was Deep.

(Dave Broom)

To start with there’s pine needles and some fresh mushroom, along with light spice, yuzu and some golden syrup. It has a buzz of alcohol flitting around, which needs time (and agitation) to fly off. In time you’ll get greener notes (broom/pea shoots), a touch of draff and underneath, some char. Water brings out a roasted quality and some herbal notes.

Sweet, and while that roasted note seen on the nose is now more obvious, you’re also getting milk chocolate, red fruit, orange and lemon zest (and some heat). It develops a clinging quality with some thinned honey. Water adds to the lift…

… before it becomes lightly nutty.

Allow it time to open and let the clear, clean fruits emerge.

Don’t rush, this is a bit of a Hidden Treasure.

(Dave Broom)

Lifted and softly fragrant, with the smoke not immediately apparent, though you can pick out a slightly mossy element and the aroma of salt water on skin, some drying seashells, then a hint of lemon rind. Mineralic, in a Muscadet-sur-Lie-like fashion. It starts to open when water is added, starting with green tangerine, then red fruits, and the smoke well-bedded down. Steadily it sweetens, softens and spreads, but also becomes more peaty.

Bigger and oilier than you expect. The smoke hangs around on the tip along with red apple and strawberry water, with a little waxiness (burning sealing wax) in there. It comes across as being very restrained. In time there’s Starburst, with the smoke squeezed in the middle of the mouth, before being steadily released onto the back palate. Water makes it more herbal and mossy, with sea lettuce and a gentle unfolding of pear, sweet grass and finally the smoke, which is now totally integrated. There’s a light earthy touch, but without any loss of elegance.

Smoky, yet honeyed.

A vatting of Caol Ila and Talisker, with a judicious dollop of Clynelish and a Highland assemblage. It took me a long time to get my head around this, but it kept drawing me back in. Subtle, layered and, ultimately, complex.

On a summer afternoon that Old Coastal aroma returns. You sigh.

(Dave Broom)

A massive dram from the early days of Port Charlotte that mixes plump raisins, dates and strong tea, then the characteristic decking oil elements, though this time with added coffee, some bog myrtle-like smokiness and a hint of farmyard. Unusually for Port Charlotte, there’s a distinct meatiness (barbecued lamb/tomato), and then some walnut. Some of that concentration is lost when water is added, but not to the detriment of the overall balance.

Big, oily, thick and robust, with a mouth-coating texture. There’s a whiff of enamel paint towards the front, then comes smoky bacon, charred fruits and blackened peppers as it becomes increasingly savoury and gamey. With water, there’s an eruption of peat, dried fruit and resin. In time, there’s Germoline and bandages.

Long, with liquorice, fruit and smoke.

Huge wood, meet huge spirit. It’s full-on but there’s a surprising complexity underneath. It might not be to everyone’s taste, but for me, at the right time it’s a belter.

A Black Crow settles on a tree.

(Dave Broom)

On the nose you’d hardly guess this was a spirit with a lower abv. Everything you’d expect from Whyte & Mackay’s flagship expression is present: caramel, vanilla, and a light, sweet aroma of Dolly Mixtures and liquorice, with some dried fruit from the Sherry cask influence. There’s a subtle, soft and well-integrated smokiness too, alongside a grassy, almost floral aroma of cut hay.

The alcohol burn you’d expect from a 40% abv whisky is absent; an experience not dissimilar to sipping a cup of tea you realise has gone cold. Get over the shock and there’s dried fruit and more of that cut hay, with a toffee sweetness. There’s enough oak spice to mimic the effect of alcohol burn on the tongue, which combined with the char-like smoke has a pleasant mouth-filling effect.

Dry, oaky and a little bitter.

Due to the low abv it’s classed as a ‘spirit drink’ (the legal minimum for Scotch whisky is 40% abv) with a bespoke recipe designed to work at a lower proof for drinkers seeking to cut down their alcohol intake. I would quite happily sip this with a cube of ice, or lengthen it in a Highball.

Waiting to see Metallica at the SECC when on walks the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. A pleasant surprise, just unexpected.

(Becky Paskin)