Batch 115

Medium weight. There’s some chocolate-covered orange, which is given a drier edge by a bran element, before some cow breath sweetness emerges, closely accompanied by honey-sweetened camomile tea. Water gives an extra red fruit sweetness and more of Arran’s signature sweet citrus peel.

Soft and quite fruity to start. It has a lovely weight for its age and a juicy (unfiltered) apple juice-like quality on the mid-palate, while the citrus buzzes. In time, you pick up some coffee cream icing (perhaps from the cask). Spicier with water.

A tiny bit of heat. Sweet nuttiness adds some length.

Very well-balanced and, if not immensely complex, a really sound Arran.

A distracted hoverfly in the apple orchard.

Intense and fine-boned with a powdery hint of narcissus and freesia. Then comes a sweet note akin to carrot tops and freshly peeled parsnip, and a tiny nudge of smoke before it rounds out with some (just) ripe white peach. When watered down, things become a little edgy, with added fresh white linen.

Fairly sweet and estery. The florals return alongside some green pear, before things soften in the mid-palate into apricot and everything clenches together. Though things are quite tense, with water there’s still some gentle lemon accents along with a hint of smoke and dust.

Short and slightly fragile.

Distilled in 2009. This has decent balance for its relative youth. Great to see a distillery extending its portfolio in this way. Keep your eye on this. 

When you were young, you were the King of Carrot Flowers:
Part 1
Parts 2 & 3

A so-wrong-it’s-right stinky funk is the first element to be triggered – leather, cheese rind, then gravy browning and ’dronach’s sweet, warm turned earth. Things are given an added twist as dried raspberries/tayberries emerge in the autumnal woods. Heavy, yes, but there’s always rich sweet fruits tinged with this animalic element. A drop of water brings out more cheese rind and heavy velvet drapes.

Slow and relaxed, showing pretty classy restraint. Everything is suddenly glossy and polished, the tannins are soft, there’s added marmalade and molasses. Water softens things still further and brings out clootie dumpling/spotted dick (take your pick).

Complex and richly fruited. Scented peels and incense. Long.

A powerful, elegant Glendronach. 

An urbane old gentleman smoking a fine Cuban cigar.

Big, lavender-scented polish mixed with scented candle, patchouli, rose and Turkish Delight. Then comes baked fruit, along with highly-polished furniture. The oloroso finish pokes its head up with water, along with a more overt waxiness and some butterscotch toffee. 

It’s this waxiness which comes to the fore on the tongue, while the heavily scented elements recede slightly. There are heavy, juicy fruits, peach jam and a Tokaji-like oxidised note. Bold, but well-balanced. In time, a dry, winnowed wheat element adds a touch of dryness before the oloroso kicks in. I’m not sure it needs water – it certainly doesn’t need a lot – but its addition does help to spread the thick fruits more evenly across the palate.

Long and juicy, with fresh spice on the end.

According to the label, this has been ‘gently matured’, which begs the question what vigorous maturation might be like. That aside, this is a mature, balanced and pleasingly funky drop.

Relaxing with a herbal cigarette in an aristocratic hippy pad. Dark Star begins. By the time The Dead have finished, so is the bottle.

Quite oily wood greets you, with an added vinous element reminiscent of cherry-like red fruits. There’s good depth – leather, saddle soap, treacle, alongside bitter chocolate that slowly gives way to walnut bread, then brown banana and, with water, malted milk.

Rounded, thick and pretty sweet. The flavour starts like a half-melted Milky Way, then the cereal gives a crunch to the mid-palate, before heavy red and black fruit syrup softens things once more and adds length. It can cope with a little water, which pulls down the alcohol, accentuates this balance between the crisp cereal and the rich dried fruits.

Raisined and long.

There’s a mix of wine and Sherry casks being used here, but it never tips over into jammy fruit juice territory. Layered and complex.

Uncle Monty’s wine cellar?

This opens with a heathery/scented grass-like aroma that flirts with pot-pourri, before it dries into hazelnuts in a hessian sack. Then things soften once more as muguet makes a move forward. Strangely, it then dries again. With water there’s silage, old apples and a touch of glue. 

Touches of dried fruit and spice – given extra volume by the strength. Then comes almond milk and a plump, rounded and slightly creamy, almost banana-like quality mixed with almond milk. As is typical with Tormore, things then dry suddenly. 

Creaminess, lemon zest, then the cereal crunch.

A paradoxical malt, but with charming spots. 

Aimlessly wandering around a Highland craft emporium.