Batch 166

Though a mere eight years of age, already this shows remarkable maturity, with an aroma that brings to mind the funkiest of funky pot still rums cut with lime juice, and a backnote of shards of heavily barbecued flesh. There’s some added lift from a scented wood note that’s akin to Trumper sandalwood shaving soap, before sweetness comes through in the form of cherry jam. Water brings out a smoky molasses element.

Chewy and mouth-filling, with toasted, integrated wood adding complexity. It’s actually sweeter than the nose suggests, with the meaty underpinnings now akin to mutton pie with a hawthorn jelly bittersweet element on the side. The mid-palate is ripe and rich and slightly oily, with a light nutty edge, some old dried citrus peels and dandelion and burdock. The meatiness, if reduced with water, leaves this twisted take on fresh and dried fruit.

Peanut butter and singed black fruits.

Rich and dementedly unconventional, which only endears it to me more.

He may have been in Speyside but he was Funkin’ for Jamaica.

Light in colour, with some nose burn and a light background. Though hard to get into because of the high strength, there’s some graphite elements, green fruits, and a light lactic element. Water helps to loosen things up, adding in delicate verbena notes, aspirin and then, as it develops, trifle-like elements: cream, boozy sponge and berry fruits still contained within a green casing.

There’s more substance than the aroma suggests. OK, there’s still this slightly sappy, youthful quality to start with, but for all its compactness, the mid-palate does show some sweet fruit-led weight before it fizzles out. Water brings out more grassiness, then sweet pear, cream and lemon.

Spicy, with some aromatic blue fruit and ripe banana. Hot. 

 A feisty number with some hidden soft qualities.

Burn baby, burn in this Disco Inferno.

A fresh mix of slightly chalky, malty elements backed with rosewater, a hint of fresh clove and Edinburgh rock. There’s some heat, but the white bread elements carry through alongside bruised peach. Water shows a slight flimsiness, so tread carefully.

Light, soft and direct, this starts with a pleasing burst of freesia-like florals backed with a dry nutty character and green fruits. Things continue to shift between these elements resulting in a slight tension that’s given some relief when water is added as the flavours are now spread across the palate, though there’s little depth. It loses impact towards the back.

Hot, slightly drying.

Light and easy, and front-and-centre, which might be no bad thing commercially.

Straight down the Middle of the Road.

There’s some substance here, with a mix of light caramel toffee, milk chocolate, damp wool, and a dessert trolley (there’s that trifle element again, but also bread and butter pudding). In time you can pick out some jellied fruits and light quince. Subtle, but with good weight. Water brings out milky elements, but also signs of cedar-accented maturity and greater mid-palate weight, plus some cooked pear.

Tongue-clinging, creamy, and medium bodied. It starts with powdery fruits then floral-scented face cream, lemon leaf and scented blue fruit with rounded, mature, wooden notes. The light tannins add a balancing dry element. Water again softens things into yellow fruit, while that bruised peach note seen on the 12-year-old returns, along with a creamy back palate.

Light sultana and cooked fruits.

Though things are still on the lighter side, this has more length.

The trifle debate raged. ‘My mother, She Don’t Use Jelly!’ he cried.

Rounded and soft with more overt mealy elements (warm oat milk) and clear mature touches such as aromatic cigar box, lilac and sweet hay come into the foreground, and while the presence of yellow fruits shows a clear line back to the 18-year-old, there’s now some tropical fruit elements in the background. Water pulls out more nuttiness – roast hazelnut especially – then old apple skin.

Rounded and slightly oily with a palate-coating quality. The fruits now ease and ooze over the tongue, starting soft, then picking up a juicy, almost waxy richness by the time they start to cluster in the middle of the palate. There’s great balance here, and while water brings out more mature depths, things remain on the more subtle side.

Relaxed, fruity, and elegant.

A fine conclusion to a rewarding new range.

Lilac sprays fill the room as they wait For The Roses to bloom.

Very sweet and flowery: buddleia and privet blossom, with some Victoria sponge, tart white currants and a hint of chalkiness. Everything seems very fresh, light, and upfront. In time an almond/ marzipan/ anise note develops alongside preserved lemon. All of this is amplified with water, with extra lemon zest and Bakewell tart.

An instant impact that’s all citrus zest and zippy acidity, but behind there’s sweeter creamy elements, with some drops of orange blossom water, that start off as flumpy marshmallows whose slightly powdery coating gives a dusty element to the mid-palate, adding balance to the spikiness of higher alcohol (and relative youth). Water slows the momentum and adds a new, gentle side.

Strawberries and cream, orange, then the marzipan returns.

As sweet as you like. A lovely aperitif. Welcome Asta Morris, you can visit any time.

Oh you Lemon Flower, the fruit is sweet but the juice is sour… let Ivor Cutler take you away.