Batch 162

One of those rolling, slightly maritime Bowmores. The smoke is completely integrated, giving the impression of the inside of a cottage, woollen jumper drying by a peat fire, salt spray in the air outside, a vase of bluebells on the mantelpiece… and then, out of nowhere, peaches, then tar. In time (and with water) wet sand on a gale-blown beach, more smoke but tempted by a honeyed sweetness. Complex, constantly shifting.

Smooth and very elegant with less of the (often baffling) shifts seen on the nose. There’s some chilli heat, bitter chocolate alongside a ripe, soft mid-palate. The addition of water allows the mix of seashore and fruit cake to come through along with some carbolic elements, for those of us who remember such things.

Mint, spice, smoke. Huge and long.

It is all of Bowmore compressed into a bottle, a Neil M. Gunn novel (Silver Darlings or The Grey Coast) in liquid form.

A soothing Sea Song.

Some dry, quite nutty elements to kick off with given initial balance by toffee notes, then dry grass (coumarin), green almond and some nutmeg adding a jangle of spiciness. In time you pick out hazelnuts dribbled in melted caramel, then a glimpse of condensed milk. It’s a little hard. Water brings out balsa notes and hay.

The American oak element is more obvious here, layers of toffee and cream (Toffos, in fact) that morph into millionaire’s shortbread. The smooth mid-palate brings banoffee pie to mind before the nuts crunch back in.

Drying and spicy.

Easy drinking but could have done with more of the American oak on the nose just to soften down that dry edge.

It has Dry Bones.

A mix of sweet and quite ripe red and black fruits, sloe especially, with a crisp underpinning. Becomes increasingly scented, ripe and generous, with hawthorn jelly and fruit tea prominent. Water brings out red cherry and a touch of cedar. There’s some complexity here, and good balance.

A fatter mouthfeel than the American Oak with a mix of plum and cherry fruits. 

Spicy, then drying.

Plump, but not flabby, and well integrated. Very good on its own (probably without water) but would make an interesting base for a Blood & Sand. Just sayin’.

Open this too early and you’ll be Drunk By Noon.

There’s smoke from the off, peatiness mixed with dried herbs (hyssop, thyme and sage) which have been thrown athwart the fire, as well as luscious, sweet dried fruit. There’s a tiny spark of a Zippo lighter, suggestive of youth, and then things move steadily towards hickory and cypress, then raisin and toffee. Water is a good idea: it brings out more peat and a note akin to smoked biltong.

Some light smoke starts things off and sticks with you all the way, but there is a good balance struck in the middle of the palate where the thick, dried fruits are massed before a note of spent bonfire emerges. Water again brings the meaty element forward. Dark and mysterious.

A tense youthfulness but then a release of smoke.

The first bottling from Edinburgh’s legendary Bramble Bar. Bodes well for the future.

Lost in the woods, the fire going out, shapes in the trees, drums begin to beat, a chant starts… ‘Diana, Diana’.

Mature and initially fruity, then you pick up tobacco pouch, game pie with redcurrant jelly, peaches in brandy, a tiny hint of cereal, then red liquorice and an increasingly funky element. Grows and deepens, becoming ever more complex so that it can encompass the sweetness of Manuka honey, beeswax-polished furniture, leather-bound books, roast venison, and baked fruits. Water increases the gravitas and concentration, while smoke from an incense stick flutters in the background.

Elegant and layered. A big, rich, multifaceted dram which holds its strength well. You pick up melted chocolate, heavy black fruits, balanced by a (very Mortlach-like) sweet earthiness. In time, there’s some Seville orange, then pipe tobacco. As with the nose you are overwhelmed by a fluxing, shifting mix of the sweet and the savoury, the light and lifted, and the rooted and heavy. There’s a huge retronasal mix of venison and dry leaves, while a drop of water adds lift and a dusty exoticism that brings to mind dried rose petal and treacle toffee.

Burnt meat, then sweetness once again.

Remarkable. Whiskies like this don’t come along very often. You know what to do.

God bless The Beast In Me.

Sweetly scented with an initial mix of baked apricot, fresh yellow plum and, in time, tangerine marmalade and crystallised fruits. It has the fresh drive typical of the distillery, with a light, dry element behind the dusky, fragrant fruits (nectarine and dried apricot especially). Water brings out a funkier base note alongside old apples, bletted medlar and considerably more sweet spice. Becomes heavily Moscatel-driven.

Sweet and very fruity start – all light peachiness, with a thick, almost cloying blueberry syrup mid-palate before spices suddenly rip in then recede, allowing mint chocolate and darker, damson-like fruits to come through. Water makes it even more perfumed (orange blossom, Zibbibo grapes). The Moscatel is in charge.

Scented, fruity and slightly flabby.

It’s almost too much. I’d find it hard to have more than one dram – but I’d enjoy those few sips.

Frothy and as sweet as my Sugar Spun Sister.