Batch 146

Very pale, with the requisite rockpool-like salinity from whiskies of this ilk: a beach after a storm on a cold day. The smoke itself isn’t hugely apparent when neat; instead you get purely marine elements and, in time, some hot wok smell (oil, sesame, iron) and a hint of lavender. Water shows a little more smoke, but a bonfire made from green willow.

Oily and hot and, because there’s virtually no wood getting in the way, it fairly races across the tongue in tyre-burning attack and... then it’s gone. Ok, when you revisit there’s maybe a touch of cream, but there’s no pause in the centre for sweetness (and therefore balance) to develop. Instead, things are tense. Water does allow things to expand slightly, along with more smoke and a hot fire still crackling away.

Now you get slightly sooty smoke.

What is it with pale peaty whiskies? I know low wood means maximising smokiness, but how many more can the market take? This is simple and only beginning to pull its still disparate elements together. Completists only.

On the beach, weeping Job’s Tears.

Dave Broom

Sweet yet prickly stem ginger interplays with a dominant floral element in the form of rose essence and elderflower cordial. But there’s a richer, deeper quality here too, as dark toffee, bitter chocolate and dried cranberries play out the bassline. Water intensifies the floral notes and coaxes a bitter, metallic quality forward, like well-oiled bike chains.

Thick and floral. Rosewater and jasmine before a sudden spicy heat develops in the middle (an effect lessened with water). A sugary sweetness develops and, as the heat subsides, we’re back to Turkish Delight and a buttery, waxy quality akin to polished oak furniture.

Dry, and just a touch bitter.

Matured primarily in a refill hogshead and finished in a PX Sherry cask for two years. A pleasant drop – I’d use it in a Highball with a dash of elderflower cordial and soda – yet it lacks cohesion.

Cycling through Bluebell Forest in the Spring.  

Becky Paskin

Vegetal and young, like a reposado Tequila. It’s green – both in terms of its youthfulness and aroma – with sweet touches of aloe vera and undercooked nopal. A soft, salty, ashy smokiness underpins the greenery as the nose moves into first aid kits and plasters.

Vegetal still, with the bitter sweetness of green beans, bell peppers and kiwi fruit. Grippy in the middle as the heat builds (it’s a high cask strength of 61.6% abv), heightening a salty, smoky quality and a more oaky sweetness – vanilla and muscovado sugar. Water brings out a bitter motor oil quality, smoked fish and lemon zest.

Minty, almost mentholic, and smoky.

Youthful and intriguing. The Baja Peninsula meets the Sound of Islay.

Sailing on a Viking long boat with these folks: Los Vikings del Norte.

Becky Paskin

Off the bat there are sweet, mouth-wateringly luscious fruits: lemon sherbets, juicy apples and Conference pears, though as it relaxes in the glass a more honeyed, caramelised sweetness develops – Jamaican ginger cake and sticky toffee pudding. A leafy greenness lifts the edges, almost cigar-like. Spiced oak adds dimension.

Dry at first – unexpectedly so, given the immediate, fruit-forward nose. The fruit here is drier – sultanas, baked apples and Califig syrup. A hint of tobacco leaf and milk chocolate as the wood spice builds toward the mid-palate, bringing notes of liquorice, black pepper and fresh ginger while retaining a dark, molasses-rich stickiness.

Sticky and sweet.

Glenlivet explores its rummy alter-ego.

Kicking back on Craigellachie Beach ‘neath a tree. Stir it Up, says Bob Marley.

Becky Paskin

Like the Ardbeg, this too has a briny bracing aroma, this time a pile of drying oyster shells, but there’s an added sweet grassiness and discreet smoke, and hints of softer and slightly more mature elements in the background. Water pulls forward some lemon and a tiny hint of tar/soot, then burning fish boxes.

A pretty sweet and zesty start with some lime, then the smoke starts to grow in power, adding in hints of cigar, old bookshop and a soft, substantial sweetness (rather than wood) in the middle of the tongue. Water adds lightness and another level of sweetness, plus that squeeze of lemon. Like the other Berry Bros blended malts, it’s as much about feel. It’s balanced and does what it says on the tin (or label).

Drying, smoky, seaweed.

You do wonder if anyone is using anything other than refill casks these days. As a result, there’s a certain homogeneity between whiskies of this style. Still, this has balance and would work well in a Highball.

Just as the Tide Was Flowing.

Dave Broom

Pale (of course!), with a light onion skin (Provence rosé) colour from the finish in ‘Bordeaux’ casks. Things are still pretty penetrating in terms of alcohol (another downside of having lower wood influence) and a dry austerity. There’s some burning heather and a nodule of sweet fruits (wine gums), and steadily-building smoke. Water brings out a slightly foosty note of smouldering, damp peat.

More expansive. Here, the smoke and light red-berried fruit work well together on the tip of the tongue. By the middle, though, it is drying out and the edginess begins to show, along with some almond. Water again helps to round things out a bit in the middle, but there’s an insubstantiality to this which can’t be ignored.

Short, smoky.

I long for the impact of interaction.

The delicacy and penetrating quality of the great Annie Briggs: Living By The Water.

Dave Broom