Batch 104

A lightly oily opening and just a tad hot (though, at 64.7%, it’s not as if you weren’t warned). It’s the start of what becomes this week’s theme: how fruity and sweet can you make things? Big, fortified tones are in here: dried fruit, sultana pricked with mint and a beeswax element surprising in one so young. In time you get a mix of chestnut nougat and chocolate. The impression is of thick dried fruits, tonkatsu sauce (or Stokes Brown Sauce) with some wild fruit edges. With water you get cooked Puy lentils, Lustau East India Sherry and meadow hay.

An overpowering impact of alcohol-laden, dense flavour making me glad I was sitting down when I tasted it. Chewy and supple tannins with a slight astringency. Dense and briary instead, with some coffee grounds. Water makes it more salivatory.

Rich, long, walnuts and raisins.

Impressive for one so young. Plucked from the cask at exactly the right moment. A cracker.

Sir Henry, beard dribbled with the detritus of lunch, struck a match and watched Rawlinson End being cleaned.

A sweet start alongside steaming draff (Ready Brek), then a sudden, pleasing lift of rose and geranium, and strawberry. Citrus zips in, while deeper fruits grunt away in the background. Becomes more perfumed with a big vetiver hit, then bulrush, and a hint of glue which sticks around (if you’ll pardon the pun) when water is added.

Winey notes from the off, and that mix of ripe red fruits adds perfume and soft length. Mid-palate you get a light touch of balancing oak, then green strawberry, angelica and some shiso. When water is added there’s exotic woods and a huge hit of Luxardo Maraschino. Sweetness abounds.

Mix of cooked red and black fruits.

Whisky making by committee is always fraught with danger. This, however, works really well. A great initiative and a lovely dram.

Drinking wine for breakfast, thinking of last night’s gin cocktails.

Dalmore has an affinity with Port – it’s that blackcurrant thing. This is sweet with a tiny savoury hint in the background, along with some oak and macadamia. Concentrated fruits dominate: black cherry, plum and blue fruits. More oak and citrus become apparent when water is added.

Sweet and then sweeter still. The distillate weight is there, along with a hint of nuttiness on the side, but basically this is a fruit bomb of a dram which, for a moment, teeters on the brink of being a whisky-finished Port. Black cherry, currants and orchard fruits reduced to syrup. Water shakes out some savoury notes before things sweeten again.

Rosehip syrup.

A guilty pleasure and, to be honest, I could only manage half a glass.

For once he was glad that the Bishop of Norwich had been invited (a little Port joke for you all).

A light roseate hue and a heavier and slightly more earthy quality to the nose compared to the 15-year-old, with animal and fruit leathers combining before things deepen into pomegranate molasses, damson jam, Olde English marmalade, wild hedgerow fruits. Robust.

This has more complexity than the 15-year-old. The Port seems better-integrated, with extra spice and fine tannins, while the savoury edge has been brought forward, alongside light meatiness. That grip is needed as this is still sweet, though the fruits are becoming overripe and sightly decayed – which makes things much more interesting flavour-wise. Lush and a burly elegance.

Light acidity. Rowan berry jelly on venison. Still sweet.

Has structure and balance, but is a tad steep price-wise.

Rejoicing that the King was saved, they dined on the stag’s heart (a little Dalmore joke for you there).

This has more Sherried tones than Port, the fruits have shifted into the dried realm and become more concentrated, moving into raisin, Dundee cake and a mix of prunes and Ribena. Slightly higher in alcohol – which adds a certain lift and energy, along with some nuttier, oxidised notes drifting towards roasting coffee beans –  a further step into mature funkiness.

Rich and, you guessed it, sweet with flavours now into the realm of liquorice and black fruits alongside a bosky woodland element, akin to super-ripe Cabernet Franc. Massively concentrated (again), with sloe berry bitterness twanging away and adding a much-needed balancing, off-dry element. Water brings out slight astringency and more dried peels.

Thick, long and rich with a savoury edge.

Is it make Dave diabetic week or something?

Sloe whisky, anyone?

Initially things are fresh and tense – impatient even – with fairly assertive smoke in the background and a mineral element which you don’t often see in Highland Park. It steadily shifts towards light nuttiness with a squeeze of lemon and sandalwood before mossy peatiness begins to grow. By the time it’s fully opened there’s earth tones and a whiff of fresh linoleum. When diluted, things become all warm and fuzzy.

Soft, light and creamy to start – all cup cakes and Victoria sponge –  before that green element comes through alongside smoke and coriander spiciness. All the time there’s a grumble of peat muttering away in the background, adding depth, weight and a little menace.

Lightly citric with dark undertones.

A highly sessionable dram – which Rebus would approve of.

Once young and full of hope, now there’s a growing sense of curdling despair. He pours another glass. Time for some John Martyn. Stormbringer, Side 2, last track (33.52 in today’s money).