Batch 24

Very pale straw. Immediate light floral and pineapple notes, with a light touch of gummy bears behind then hydrangea. It’s almost like a Riesling Spätlese with a sense of some depth. In time and with water there’s apple syrup, lovely. 

Vibrant start. Gentle and sweet but with a clean acidity that, while initially balancing the fruit becomes slightly steely on the palate. Again it’s got parallels with wine – a tense white that will continue to develop. Becomes more apple-like with water with hints of cream and even a little citric-infused spiciness. Develops well.

Soft with some citric elements and a breath of smoke. 

A gentle lunchtime dram. It is a perfect example of what Balblair is at this age in this type of cask. Job done. Recommended. 

Time to celebrate the new season with the first al fresco lunch of spring.

Spicy opening, with hints of caraway, then some crystallised fruit before there’s cinnamon and honey. Water adds some lift. It’s not unpleasant, but I’m at a loss to know quite what it is, or how it adds to the human experience.

Sweet. I mean very sweet. Oddfellows liqueur sweet which suggests there’s some spiciness, but it’s sweet in the same way as a low-grade spiced rum. Cloying. 

Sugar solution. 

‘Ah, but Dave, you’re not the demographic,’ I was told. Well, I’m not the demographic for Taylor Swift or Peppa Pig, but I can appreciate why both are great. This isn’t. It doesn’t even have the cojones to show it’s whisky-based. 

I’m not sure there can be, but here’s some Taylor Swift to show how it’s done.

The colour is amber, suggesting a relaxed half-century in cask and, Lordy, it’s been time well spent. Fleshy fruits with a slight phenolic edge from the cask. Sweet and corn-fed fat, but with purity of fruit. A mix of the fresh tropical fruits and a sweetie counter. Subtle dry vanilla, mango smoothie, strawberry chews, green fruit pastilles. Develops beautifully. Still fully expressive after an hour, where the oils on the palate come through. 

Mouth coating and sweet. Those green fruits now have turned into lime jelly. All you expect from the nose but with a thickness to the texture. Lightly estery, with the fruits becoming increasingly jellified [is that a word? Ed]. Ripe, naturally sweet, long.

Long and fruity and still energetic. 

A rarity. Carsebridge distillery closed in 1983 and is rarely seen as a bottling. This is a superb example of an aged grain. 

Carmen Miranda’s visit to Clackmannan. (Now there’s a song I wish Michael Marra had written) In lieu of that, try this.

Dark colour, and big Sherry-oaked wood to start with. High in cocoa solid chocolate, roasting coffee beans, red fruits and then that oily Littlemill note behind. In time, you get cordite and then the tempting aroma of a slow-roasted leg of lamb. Don’t overwater though.

Though it starts dry, it’s not tannic. Indeed, the fruits come through, all mulberry jam, and prune. While there’s some grip at the back, this is balanced by real sweetness. Water softens it further bringing out walnut and elements that hint at Frangelico. Has length and softness.

Slightly phenolic and some heat which never quite recedes.

A new bottler to me and a welcome introduction. It’s soft and round and maybe needs a little more punch from the distillery, but that’s nitpicking. One for those who like ‘em big.

Wrapped up a fur coat. The Who put it the best.

Fruity - Juicy Fruit chewing gum, Conference pear, then some marzipan, cherry blossom and the whiff of yellow dusters in a drawer (you all have duster drawers, don’t you?). When diluted, you’ll discover some toffee, but it does fade quickly in the glass. 

Very light and well balanced, but it seems hidden behind a veil. There’s potential here, but everything is muted – might it be the low strength? There’re fruits, some spice and while you get more purpose with water, again it just fades away.

Fresh and short when neat (longer with water) with some Bakewell tart.

Hot on the heels of NAS The Glenlivet and Scapa comes this from the Chivas Bros’ distillery that is arguably most revered by malt nuts. That means it’s going to be a big ask and while there’s nothing wrong with this, it’s just not as great as Longmorn can – and should – be.

A Kansas orchard before Dorothy gets whisked off. 

Discreetly peaty, with the sort of smoke you get when you light green kindling. Light fruits, kiwi especially, then a fresh breeziness. Not hugely complex, but sound and balanced. Little youth and fresh woodiness with water.  

Light to medium bodied. Clean and fresh once more, then green grass and even a hint of oil. The smoke is in the background. There’s a touch of UHU glue [happy memories of childhood]. Water shows it to be maybe a little too light.

Gentle smoke begins to fill the mouth.

While apparently this is named after Islay’s wild goats it thankfully doesn’t smell like those odoriferous beasts. It’s in the vein of Big Peat, Smokehead etc. and comes at a good price. In other words, a sound, straightforward, polite, well-made dram. Best drunk Highball-style. 

First Scout camp. A boy’s hands, clutching a lit match, tremble over the fire.