Batch 131

A clean start, with softened apple and some green, celery-like elements, then cucumber skin and lemon zest. The wood is well-balanced, adding some light vanilla and white chocolate, then camomile and sweet spice. With water, some oily waxiness, more of the floral elements – daffodils especially – then bright lemon and gingery, then a drift of smoke and a mineral edge.

A pillowy start with cream puffs, chocolate eclair, then the anticipated bite of lemon and green apple. Just a hint of yeastiness. The wood is in the background, just adding to the rather fine balance. With water, remains sweet but now there seems to be more energy and brightness moving towards red fruit. Full mid-palate.

Softer than you’d expect, then smoke and light mint.

Apparently this vatting of Springbank, Longrow, Tobermory, Glen Moray and Glen Garioch was put together in 2009 and then forgotten – sorry, deliberately given a rest – for eight years. Balanced and very easy-drinking. What’s not to love?

A soft, Angora-sweatered hug.

It starts disappointingly, with the foosty aroma of a damp cellar, old wood and a fungal note. This, however, does start to lift quickly (though I’m not sure it entirely goes away), being replaced by tight woodiness, raisin, liquorice and an increasingly spicy element: garam masala with anise and clove oil. Water brings out a light funkiness and that opening is pretty much forgotten.

Very sweet and concentrated, with the Christmas pudding mix to the fore along with a nuttiness, some resin and more subtle spices than you might expect from the nose. The sense of the old wood is in the background. It’s more of a PX Sherry with some whisky added than the reverse. Water produces some burnt elements.

Huge hit of star anise.

If you want things cask-driven with exotic touches, then this is for you. If you want Cambus, then look elsewhere. It’s from a refill PX butt, but that first fill must have been a pretty short one. I kind of like it.

Christmas in Montilla.

Quite light, with some cereal elements (just-harvested field). There’s pretty low cask influence here and, accordingly, it’s quite feisty and dry, although red fruits then begin to emerge: strawberry tarts to be precise, along with some browning apple that’s been left in a schoolbag. All of that is cut with buzzy acidity. Water is in the same vein: chalky, powdery lemon and more mineral-like.

It opens well, though you get the sense of it being slightly fragile. The acidity and heat is there, and actually more cask than you expect, which adds a milky, almost cheesy softness to proceedings. Water improves things considerably with trifle fruits, then strawberry and some gooseberry fool.

Slightly steely.

It teeters on the brink of being off, but saves itself. That said, it’s one of those pleasant enough but kind of ‘meh’ whiskies.

A chilly day on an outside court at Wimbledon.

Rich, dark, brooding. Sulking in the glass with touches of molasses and black banana, then flames licking around a flambéd Christmas pudding. After a bit, you get some green smoke – sappy branches snapping in the flames. It’s certainly not shy. Water lightens and opens, bringing in rich mandarin and an until now hidden sense of refinement.

Velvety and tongue-clinging. As it rolls across the mouth, the savoury smoke billows, shifting into charred embers and then a meaty character reminiscent of Suffolk cured back bacon. Behind this, there’s a richly sweet backdrop that slowly asserts itself, as if someone’s poured PX Sherry over that flaming pud. Water is like rain falling on glowing embers, and paradoxically dries things out a little.

More smoke and a rummy sweetness.

The reconstruction of a blend first made in 1854, registered in 1877 and discontinued in 1947. Powerful and characterful, it’s a whisky for single malt snobs who think they don’t like blends – especially when you tell them that the price is lower than the abv.

Rich, layered, smoky and utterly distinctive. It’s Tom Waits in a bottle. ‘Ain’t no good thing ever dies…’

Richard Woodard

A little closed and cask-driven initially, but there’s some floral action in here: hyacinth and lily of the valley to be precise, which adds a certain roundedness to proceedings. There’s also a touch of peeled bark, then a mix of dessert apple and perry cider. In other words, some complexity and subtle weight. Water brings out hot massage oil, then more soft toffee.

A fine, sweet concentration with this Milky Way-like mousse effect, some apricot skin and much-needed lift of alcohol, though this does slightly obscure the more delicate elements. Water brings out a slightly firmer quality than you often see on Linkwood, but there’s some Comice pear as well as a little touch of oak.

Clean and crisp.

Subtle and easily overlooked.

The blue car got it right. You’ll see the red car in the next tasting note…

Fat and buttery, with masses of banana split topped with toffee/butterscotch syrup, then caramel flan, cronuts and then an overpowering hit of coconut, followed by smooshed up sweetcorn which adds a Canadian kind of kick. There’s some toastiness from the oak, but everything is pretty blowsy. Water boosts everything and makes it almost sickly.

As sweet as you like, with the distinctive aroma of boiling condensed milk. A light, refreshing pause then comes with the introduction of orange ice cream and mango sorbet, before the banana and those cronuts come back. Add water and there’s even touches of foie gras on brioche (that’s how we roll down here).

Coconut, sweet, with light acidity. It’s Piña Colada!

A whisky which goes straight into the arteries. Completely OTT. Sugar fiends will love it.

I do like Piña Coladas and getting caught in the rain, but as for your offer to make love in the dunes, I simply couldn’t after all that sugar.