Batch 135

A slight pinkish colour. There’s punnets of sweet red fruits: cherry, strawberry, that ooze towards syrup, then it flirts with cherry brandy and vanilla, before some pot still spiciness asserts itself. In time, things take on a slightly darker hue with kir, pomegranate molasses. Overall, it’s fat and sweet, with the wine in charge. With water you pick out more soft runny toffee, a slight peachiness and candied sweet potato. It shows some maturity if you allow it to develop.

As sweet as you might expect from the nose, with an almost bland start in terms of flavour, though there is this immediate sense of the tongue being coated. It picks up more character by the middle of the tongue, where there’s milky coffee, red berry cheesecake, apricot, cherry ice cream and custard. The back palate has much needed drying oak and spice as, finally, the clean, apple-like Green Spot elements add some firmness. Water softens things slightly, adding in more of the pot still elements, but then the Zin elements surge back in. Soft, though with a lot of time you do get a little more assertiveness.

Marzipan, then black pepper on strawberries.

Finished in a Zinfandel cask from California’s Chateau Montelena. If you like your whiskey soft and almost liqueur-like, then this is for you. If you want some structure, then maybe stick to the good old Green Spot classic.

Cherry-oh baby.

Big and robust opening, with orange zest, milk chocolate, some cocoa powder, ripe fruits and, in time, a background vegetal element. As it develops there’s a little more oak, while a sprig of mint is thrown in for good measure, along with fresh cereal, dried lime and some Crunchie bar. Water allows the pot still to show more: hot wax, toasty wood and dried mango though, in time, a more youthful edge takes charge.

A decent wallop of flavour, with some oak, light rhubarb crumble, then immediately into latte coffee and spice (helped of course by the alcohol) and touches of nut. Energetic might be the best word. The back palate is more… considered, with lightly oily mature notes and more oakiness. Water allows all of this to flow more easily.

Biscuity and with touches of dried fruit and tayberry.

A clever vatting of single pot still and single malt aged in first fill ex-Bourbon. A banker.

Though the evening started at great pace, by the third pub we were all mellowing.

A sweet, cooked fruit opening with bright spices, spearmint and a hint of oak. There’s some substance here and a warming element that brings to mind clove, then coffee bean, peanut brittle, bitter melon and some lemon thyme. Then comes an increasing amount of tangerine (well, fizzy orange, to be honest). Water initially makes things juicier, but this steadily deepens into a rootier base note.

Very soft, sweet and quite supple with that tangerine (jelly now) appearing on the tip of the tongue before softer elements billow out in the middle, along with some slightly green acorn-like elements and spiced chocolate on the end. The IPA element seems to bind well, adding drive and a bite to the finish, which works well when neat. When you add water, the hops become more thrusting and take control, flipping the balance. What was soft is now drier, slightly roasted and a little uneasy. I’d leave the water alone.

Mint and menthol, and an acidic twang.

A decent glass, but not my top IPA finish.

As hoppy as an over-sexed rabbit.

Gentle, with some refined, elegant wood (like a freshly sanded floor), lightly oily, with a ferny/oak moss-like element in the background, alongside light chocolate and tablet. It does benefit from water as now you get the full effect of springtime wood, then redcurrant and an estery lift before cinnamon, nutmeg and a touch of fresh cigar come in. Though still restrained, water shows greater layering and complexity.

Soft, yet substantial, the tip is all Walnut Whip, an immediate spiciness, along with tobacco, before getting a hot citric lift of sansho (Szechuan pepper) and pink grapefruit. When water is added, the mellowness of the mid-palate adds a soft creaminess, which is balanced by baked peach and apple pie before more pot still spices (there’s now added clove) crunch in on the back. The oak is always in perfect balance.

The spiciness continues, along with sweet oak and a light oiliness.

The latest in IDL’s exploration of native oak, this is a single pot still whiskey aged first in ex-Bourbon, then finished in a cask made from a single Irish oak tree from Blunden Estate’s Bluebell Forest in Co Kilkenny. This is a substantial glass of whiskey, but the balance is always there, and there’s none of the overpowering resinous flavour which you often get from virgin oak.

A slow air.

This has a surprisingly piney start, adding a freshness to the delicate berry fruits, whitecurrant, sweet pear and russet apple. A herbal element grows (especially with water), adding touches of angelica and juniper. Rather lovely.

The botanical elements aren’t immediately apparent on the palate. Instead, there’s juicy cereal from the word go, with lemon oil, sweet elderflower that leads into a silky mid-palate that’s given a balancing, nougat-like crunch. Soft orchard fruits dominate the back palate – though this is relative. Nothing shouts here. Water lightens matters and, while you don’t lose the overall sensation of freshness, over-enthusiastic addition does ruin the impact. All in all, very attractive.

Fresh fruit salad with a sprinkling of sumac.

A game of two halves here, but thankfully both enjoyable. The first of Blackwater Distillery’s new whiskey range, which is (openly) using sourced whiskey until its own make matures.

Pine woods in springtime.

Lighter than The Irishman, with some currant leaf and a crisp, cereal-driven delivery, before it softens into peach Melba. Water enhances the fruity elements.

A very soft start, suggestive of clotted cream and some toffee, that gives way to an almost syrupy feel that’s given a light textural crunch by toasted hazelnut, before some black fruits and more pot still start to develop. Water loosens the grip on the back palate.

Slightly tight. Spicy.

Another of Walsh’s pot still/single malt vattings, and a more restrained style than The Irishman. Take your pick.

Less Beckett, more Flann O’Brien.