Batch 82

As well as immediately showing good mature elements (waxiness), there’s a good, balanced mix of Spangles and honey (which becomes one of this week’s themes) – manuka, if you are interested. Then there’s a spritz of lemon, a sliver of sandalwood and a dribble of ginger cordial. Deepens in time, moving to roasted barley/brown ale and a little smoke.

A solid, tongue-clinging start with some slightly buzzy alcohol. That aside, it soon softens down into gentler flavours, with praline, liquorice, barley sugar and soft fruits. That darker underpinning seen on the nose is now a smear of treacle. Water picks out the smoke, but softens things a little too much.

Gentle and lightly smoky.

Coinnich means ‘meeting’ in Gaelic, which seems an appropriate name for a vatted (sorry, blended) malt. Mature and gentle. Worth a look.  

Bright yet mellow, sweet with some smokiness. It’s Cassandra Wilson in a glass.

Quite light with an aroma like starched shirts/crisp linen, then there’s a touch of cream along with a light floral element. The slightly dusty element now comes across as flour. Calm and gentle with the water.

Soft, gentle and light with some milk chocolate. It’s surprisingly hot for the strength and maybe just a little light in the centre, though it soon picks up some weight and a little smoky/charred note towards the end. The water brings these elements together along with a new layer of mace-like spice.

Crisp with some acidity.

Clean and fresh. Balanced too. It’s good. 

Eating a Tunnock’s teacake in hospital, nurses rustling around.

Whiffs of creosote and tarred road, but also a little pineapple and some grassiness. Pale in hue and pure in heart, with a subtle water mint element, some bay leaf and then Germolene. Not great with water.

Sweet to start (always good in a smoky dram), then there’s slowly developing smoke that is initially only picked up retronasally, along with light pimenton, then those grassy elements. It just needs a little bit more weight mid-palate, but it has charm and just enough sweetness to balance.

Gently smoky. 

You’re left wanting just that little bit more. It would make a great aperitif with a spanked mint leaf.

Asleep by a lochan, alone and palely loitering.

Michty me! Huge, meaty, orange blossom honey-glazed smoked ham, then comes the green, sappy, herbal mineral smoke you get on some mezcal. It’s, er, robust in its intentions, with twangs of apple shrub, pickled walnut and dill. The meatiness grows alongside a drier gentian note. Becomes oakier with water.

Mouth-filling and massive. Immediately oily and phenolic: a puffer engine going full blast, coal tar, burning old whisky casks in an oil drum, fish oils. Dry. Water kills a lot of this boisterous nature and makes things considerably drier.

Pine forest on fire.

As you might have gathered, this blended malt is not exactly subtle. You feel that you’ve been bludgeoned by a pig butt. Peaticide rather than Peatside. For the hardcore only.

Para Handy cooking a bacon sandwich on top of the boiler.

Cereal-driven. Has the softness of oats and the sweetness of green malt. There’s some Mr Whippy-style vanilla ice cream, tangerine, osmanthus/hyacinth. Plump, bold and lovely. The cereal note increases with water, which also brings out warm Victoria sandwich with raspberry jam.

Drier start. Light sawdust and a soft mid-palate with that barley sweetness swanning in at the end. Everything is very supple and hits an ideal balance between its sweet and dry elements. Water makes things more buttery with some cinnamon. A lot of fun.

Baked apple.

Lovely and, while not immensely complex, it’s a great late-afternoon dram. It’s named after ‘King’ James McEwan, by the way. Sooks.

Sneaking off with a white bread thickly spread with salted butter and clover honey.

Dark with a massive dark chocolate impact – think Fruit & Nut bar, rum and raisin, and a hint of sticky toffee pudding mixed with some Walnut Whips. Rich and mellow. All very cask-driven, but this is a good cask, which adds touches akin to an old cream Sherry. When you add some water, you get more damp brown bracken, and some tatami-like scents (if you haven’t smelled tatami, think cedar mixed with dry grass and you’re kind of there). Mature.

Yielding tannins and seemingly lightly smoked. You’re soon back to the chocolate notes, though this time there’s added coffee. Water, as is usual with a Sherried whisky, increases the tannic grip and you therefore lose the sweet density. There again, you pick up some old cigar and increased length. 

When neat, thick and sweet. 

It’s not discreet, it’s not even particularly distillery-focused, but it is rather delicious.

Sweet and just that little bit funky. Bring on the jazz flute!