Batch 66

The rye comes across first, all green anise and allspice, followed more gently by vanilla and an aroma like a French boulangerie: hot baguettes and fresh croissants, alongside sweet orange, tangerine, red cherry and honey. Rye-accented, but not dominated. In time, there’s lemon verbena, white chocolate and mashed banana, with more grain elements on show. Water brings out rye dustiness, but balanced with sweetness. 

The spice is well controlled and the sweeter elements come to the fore here, alongside a herbal element and those citrus notes, while the acidic spiciness begins to pull away from the mid-palate. That said, it remains held in check by flavours of vanilla, apricot and light peels.

Rye comes back. A little short.

This works as it’s a Scotch that’s been given a rye twist, rather than a Scotch trying to be a North American whisky. If Alexander Walker had casks of rye to hand in 1908, would he have used them? Yes. I’d have liked it at 43% just to give a little more impact and length. Almost like a pre-mixed Bobbie Burns, it also works well in a Rob Roy – which is the point, after all. 

After the all-night session he wandered into the baker’s for some sustenance. 

Instant high-toned Brackla character, all popping green grapes, sweet pear, quetsch (damson plum), melon balls dusted with ginger, fresh pineapple and green grass. Effervescent rather than hot. Water maybe dampens this exuberance down a little too much.

A fresh start, with all of the gently clinging syrupy fruits you see on the nose. The structure is light. It’s on the back palate where everything becomes just that bit more serious and complex. The fruits remain fresh but seem to ripen, adding a deeper, mature element, which develops with some mace and a hint of wood oil – but the still bright acidity allows the energy to be retained. With water, things begin to drift into Pinot Blanc territory and while you still get that shift on the back palate, its impact is lessened. 

Long when neat.

Fresh, vibrant and complex. Keep the water on the side and you will be rewarded. Recommended. 

Finishing his fruit salad, he turned to the young man and said: ‘Now, what are your intentions towards my daughter?’

Light in character, with heat slightly obscuring lemon butter icing and wet grass before a sour butyric note starts to develop and then dominate. The distillate seems fat. With water, you get more of the soured milk elements clamping down on some more delicate and perfumed elements, which are trying to break free.

Scented candles and cinnamon with lavender soap – very peculiar. Water reduces the intensity of this odd amalgamation, but it becomes dusty.

Sour and fat. 

Let’s just draw a veil over this and move on, eh? 

An abandoned hippy commune in the Monadhliath.

Packaging not finalised at time of publication.

Robust, with obvious Sherry oak (and indeed Sherry) from the off – there’s even a light greenish tinge. Though hot, there are mature notes of wild mushroom, graphite, hard butterscotch, then classic polished wood – the entrance hall of a castle – before dark chocolate and treacle scones. Grows in richness and complexity, but balanced by clean acidity. Mature and redolent of late autumn. With water, some liqueur chocolates and wet chestnuts.

The key here is how the quite fat distillate balances with the attentions of the oak. It starts quite aromatically with those funkier mature elements, dried fruit and, again, the cacao. It is firm in structure and slightly dry. It remains hot.

Long and rich.

One for those who don’t mind a bit of grip and, while just a little over-extracted for this wimpy palate, the nose is great. A sound, burly dram.

From deep in the trees came the sound of Let’s Eat Grandma.

Packaging not finalised at time of publication.

Lightly honeyed, mixing toffee apples with dry Sugar Puffs, candied orange peel, coriander powder, then a growing charred element. A sudden pulse of grilled pineapple sweetens things up again before the oak returns along with burnt pine. There’s a tickle of Sherry with water and things become slightly juicier, though remaining oak-driven.

Soft, very gentle and creamy with good – and ginger-pricked – flow before nuttiness comes through to dry the back palate slightly. Sweet oak, vanilla and sultana. With water, what it loses in impact it gains in fresh oak.

Drying and quite short.

All very pleasant, but it needs more contrast on the tongue. Still, I’d be happy with a dram and good to see Tamnavulin, finally, returning to the single malt fold.

An estate agent of a dram.

A smoky start. A very smoky start, in fact, that also mixes in pollen and camphor, bay leaves and mint. Rich and also – thankfully – sweet, with the latter giving balance. Only light heat, showing that mature stock has been used. Soft and complex, with notes of lemon thyme, glossy fruits, sandalwood, cashew, then wet reeds, milk chocolate and rosemary. With water you pick up the smoke again alongside posh, herb-infused olive oil.

As with the nose, there’s immediate smoke, which now comes across as the embers of a smouldering peat fire. This is backed with chocolate truffle (what is it with chocolate this week?) and orange bitters. Finely textured balancing weight, smoke, citrus and a ripe berry fruit. With water you lose just a little of the intensity but gain a gentler flow, some scented woods, grapefruit and a little nut.

Peppermint and smoke. 

Layered and complex. Recommended.

An Italian deli on Islay.