Batch 107

An intriguing nose, initially intense with soft smoke, before giving way to dried apricots and papaya, Jelly Babies skin (crystallised fruit-flavoured sugar), and waxy lemon peel. A smoky earthiness is apparent in the form of white tea leaves and toasted coconut. 

Hot and ethanol-rich. The warmth does subside (eventually), but reveals a waxy, tannic and bitter palate, with subtle notes of citrus peel and pine (where’s the fruit from the nose?). Some toasted oak joins for the ride, bringing just a smidge of vanilla sweetness. It does better with water, which softens the heat, enhances the smoke, enriches the sweetness and provides a thicker texture. But still no fruit.

Smoky, and I can’t feel my cheeks.

Flirting with flavour? This dram is so shy it’s running in the opposite direction.

Spurned by his lover, he shoved a hot poker in his mouth. 

Plummy and malty. Signature Benrinnes fruits intertwine with the effect of the Sherry butt: grilled pineapple, freshly baked jam doughnuts dusted with cinnamon and cooked bananas. Wood polish emerges after some time in the glass.

Rich and fruity, with a thick, unctuous texture (a classic sign that this is a Benrinnes). There’s a whoosh of spice on the mid-palate, then fruitcake, laden with morello cherries, figs and walnuts, and old armchair leather.

Long, a touch smoky and dry.

Rich and warming (as the name rightly suggests). A surprising amount of fruit remains after maturation in a virgin oak hogshead for 16 years.

Licking cake crumbs off the settee.

Rich PX sweetness, dates and stewed pears, caramel sauce and spices toasted in clarified butter – it’s an approachable Sherry bomb.

The sweetness of the nose continues through to the palate, with dark chewy toffee, soft brown sugar and sticky dates. Baking spices – nutmeg, cinnamon – provide warmth, while toasted oak and notes of fruitcake rich in walnuts and sultanas add grip.

Sweet and mild, the spice lingers.

Sweet, rich and full-bodied. Would Scallywag’s Sherried older brother be anything but?

Doggy snuggles under a blanket.  

Furry peach skin opening up to tinned peach syrup, gooseberries and fizzy Pink Lady apples. It’s a refreshing fruitiness anchored by a malty backbone and light toffee fudginess, which in time exudes vanilla cream.

Silky and fruit-forward, only this time the orchard’s bounty has been baked – Bramley apples and peaches dominate, encapsulated by shortcrust pastry and crème brûlée with an over-torched surface. Oak provides much needed weight. There’s a slight sulphuriness on the mid-palate, which thankfully calms with time – let it breathe for a few minutes after pouring.

Tight, medium length, quite pleasant. 

Well constructed, an easy drinker.

Eating a juicy, messy peach in an empty, dusty malt bin. 

Stunted, aside from a light dusty maltiness, like the bottom of an empty Shreddies box. Time reveals pear drops, fresh lemons, mango sorbet and… Blu Tack.

Unexpectedly bitter, which is heightened by an intense heat. Stick with it to find sherbet pips, lemon drops, and, eventually, toasted coconut shavings. Water dampens the heat and goes only some way to sweetening the bitterness. 

Estery. Bitter grapefruit peel and green grass. 

So bitter my black tea tastes sweet. A victim of KCS (knackered cask syndrome).

Richard Ashcroft takes a long walk.

High estery notes of green apple skin and lemon zest – still demonstrating Tullibardine’s distillery character after 23 years. There’s some rancio hanging around. It’s intense on first nose but calms after resting, allowing some oaky vanilla to peep through.  

Sweet, soft orchard fruit starting to turn – it’s not unpleasant. Think rotting wood in a damp dunnage warehouse. Water reveals a fleeting floral injection of sweet jasmine, before the cask begins to takeover – vanilla and dry oak wash over the mid-palate, dominating the fruit. The rancio, however, remains a constant.

Short, dry and oaky with some spice.

A dram of two halves.  

Huddled in the garden shed under an old tweed blanket, listening to the rain.