Batch 67

A decent colour for such a young stripling. Sweet fruits from the word go, backed up with wheat chaff and dried flowers. Allow it to open and you get a mix of light butteriness and agave syrup over pecan nuts. Shows good maturity for its age, while water just adds to that sweet, syrupy core.

Very soft start and maybe just a little light, but the character seen on the nose continues apace here, all the way to a delicate and almost floral finish. In time, you get apple sponge. It’s gentle, but everything is so seemingly fragile that you tiptoe through it, afraid that it might all disappear. Water, however, adds a presence, though it still falls off slightly.

Light and fresh. Short.

All rather lovely. A pretty aperitif.

Cue the wonderful Shirley Collins.

Full-on Sherry character, with only a slight green twang suggesting Aultmore’s perkiness. Instead, there is walnut, roast chestnut, dry leaves and the scent of an old briefcase. A tiny hint of struck match adds some lift. Water brings forth black cherry in syrup and rice crackers.

Thick in texture, with initially light tannins that lead into sun-dried tomato, tart red fruits, then tree bark and Earl Grey tea. Lightens but tightens with water, so leave alone.

Big and grippy. 

Sherry-lovers apply here.

With saddlebags filled with nuts, he headed into the woods. 

Though light in colour, this has retained the distillery’s signature fresh edge, alongside hints of greengage and gooseberry jam. Slightly hot, so water is required. This brings out some intense, yuzu-like aromas.

Typically sweet, though this example is slightly more perfumed than you often find. A silky texture contains notes of face cream and rosewater. Everything is rather delicate. When dilute, you get cold, unsalted butter, then some lavender.

Increasingly floral.

A fresh and pleasant example.

A sea breeze on a cool spring day.

Much crisper and more focused than you often get with Dalmore – almost restrained, in fact. Soft, with cereal elements (Brazil nuts, Ryvita), then light oak and a growing orange zest element. Slowly, things deepen into black fruits and some liquorice as the mature elements show their cards.

It remains fresh and zesty, but now the distillery’s signature blackcurrant fruit begins to build, alongside some vanilla, almond and a soft, thick, sticky toffee pudding element. Water brings back the citrus – now much more marmalade-like – while the currants drift back, but with a concentrated, Demerara-accented element.

Dries, and in comes the citrus and the cereal. A circle completed.

I must confess I wasn’t expecting such energy and delicacy on this, Richard Paterson’s 50th anniversary celebration, but he always does something to surprise. 

Jam-making time.

Mature, with Littlemill's oils upfront alongside concentrated fruit and a little heat. It moves into pollen and mead/metheglin, then concentrated apple. In time, oil paints creep through. Water brings out more oak and oils.

Gorgeous, with baklava, cinnamon, caraway and cumin in honey. Thick, clinging and juicily layered with apples, and a growing peachy element. The maturity is confirmed, but there’s always a little heat. Adding water, however, means you lose some of the more hedonistic elements.

Ripe and nectarine-accented. 

What a strange bugger Littlemill was. Given time, it could blossom into a truly remarkable whisky, but one which was never classically beautiful – which I like.

A properly pagan harvest festival. Morris On!

This is pale, intense and after all of the fruity richness of the previous drams, a sharp reminder of a different style. Like all young Taliskers it has a briny element, backed with some pear, but any new make sulphur has gone, showing it’s on its route to full maturity. That said, there is sweetness here that comes across like fresh langoustine.

This briny sweetness continues on the tongue, with the smoke almost invisible. It gently picks up as it progresses, but you could never accuse this of being the lava of the Cuillin. It’s less intense with water – indeed quite mellow – and lemon-accented.

Lightly smoky and returning to fruits de mer.

A tricky one for those of us old enough to remember the original OB. Have with soda… and prawns.

Loch Harport in repose.