Batch 86

Very sweet custard slice with icing, strawberry sauce on vanilla ice cream that’s countered by touches of earthy maturity behind. Some sharp lemon develops, though it does lose some impact with water.

More penetrating than the nose. The acidity clears the palate but the flavours reassemble on the back where there’s ginger biscuits and cream-filled brandy snaps. Adding water leads to a loss of definition. 

A touch of dry cereal.

Pleasant, but you get distracted in the middle of the tongue.

High tea at yer auntie’s (part one).

An intense, young Caol Ila with the sour green tomato/tomatillo, grassy/vegetal mash-up of agave notes, along with shoreline smoke. In time, some lychee.

There’s some sweetness building here, bringing to mind apples and pears. The smoke emerges properly from the mid-palate on. Water simplifies things… 

…But then the mineral salts and smoke come raging back extending it for longer than you’d imagine.

The energy seen on the end suggests what might have been.

A short sharp blast. I just wanted to Love You More. 

Plenty of gentle distillery character. Nicely rounded with pineapple chunks, orange zest and some scented candle. That citric element continues with water: old lime and grapefruit hulls, then distant wax and Starburst.

Typically for Clynelish more has been saved for the palate. Soft and quite sweet with a good waxy feel. The candle has been snuffed and there’s a floral element, alongside hints of citrus and sweeter soft fruits given a quick bite of acidity towards the end. Big estery notes retronasally. It fades just a little with water.

Plenty of pineapple again.

Fun and has retained its freshness even after two decades.

High tea (part two). Now yer auntie brings out the pineapple tarts. 

A basket of freshly picked wild mushrooms, potting compost, spent coffee grounds and then polished church brasses. A slightly hard edge develops in time along with draff/mash tun. The cereal elements begin to grow when water is added, moving aromas towards amber malt and wet bracken.

A sound and solid start where those nutty elements have been retained fully. It remains firm, stony even, giving the impression that all of the softer elements have been forcibly held back. Water calms the heat and brings out more cereal and, strangely for a whisky of this age, some sappiness.

Nutty and firm.

Opens pleasantly enough but its rigidity counts against it in the mouth.

Standing around at the church dance, too nervous to make the first move.

Rich dried fruits, old oloroso Sherry, steeping dried raisins, sultanas and black cherries, alongside ripe hedgerow fruits, mulberry jam and a tickle of leather. Old, spicy (but not Old Spicey) and complex. Elegant. With water, there’s more sweet cake mix, dried cherry and plum. Very soft.

This gentle quality continues. Slow paced, with those sweet dried fruits, roasted nuts and mature autumn fruits. Water is too disruptive, pulling the tannin, acidity and core apart, and exposing its age.

When neat, soft and wistful. 

Keep things neat and take it slow. It’s lost some energy but is a gentle, slow sipper.

Shuffling in slippers around Rawlinson End.

Robustly rich with big Sherry from the off. Fresh espresso mixed with dark hazelnut chocolate, there’s a little sulphur note which drifts into soot sacks. Plenty of cask elements in other words, but the distillate is chunky enough. Coffee cake with water.

Though the wood remains bold, there’s an extra meatiness: searing steak on a hot cast iron griddle with a thick mushroom sizzling beside it. Dark fruits, treacle and smoke. The sulphur sneaks out with water.

Oxidised and nutty.

Rich and powerful. I don’t mind this level of sulphur, it adds to the funk.

Sitting next to a sweaty gaucho at an Argentinian asado.