Batch 171

Very Cally in its lusciousness and lift. There’s even still a hint of acetone among the mix of fresh varnish and fruit syrups. As it develops, so more oak influence surges forward, with heavy vanilla pod, bananas and milk chocolate, then Amalfi lemon and tonka bean that moves into orange blossom water, frangipani and sandalwood. In other words, there’s real complexity here. With water you get more oak, cherry Tunes, green apple, anise, clove and rose petal.

A curveball from the word go. Is it Scottish or Canadian? The mix of creamed corn, vanilla, apple and spice suggests the latter. As it opens so things become more aromatic, with potpourri elements, Morello cherry and bitters. Athough it doesn’t quite have the heft suggested by the nose, resulting in its fading a little towards the back, it is a delicious mouthful. Water brings that lift back, along with significantly more spice.

Nutmeg and clove.

That’s grain for you. Lighter in character and therefore more malleable than malt. Is this from Edinburgh, or Ontario? Does it matter?

I could drink A Case Of You.

Quite hot, but also thick and slightly oily. There’s a softness to things which adds to a general shyness of delivery. There’s touches of iced buns, strawberry jam, and raspberry ripple ice cream, but things remain on the more restrained side. Water makes things a little more expressive, upping the red fruits and bringing in creamy toffee, then nutmeg. Things eventually become crisp, and quite crunchy.

Starts softly before some sweet, oaky elements come forward – coconut especially – while a spoonful of golden syrup adds to the silky, tongue-coating quality. It expands nicely with redcurrant fruit before the heat returns with a slight rigidity to the back palate. As with the nose, water makes the delivery much more expressive, with some caramel toffee, orange Spangles and zippy acidity.

The brightness of sumac, mixed with white chocolate. Long.

Supple, well-balanced and characterful.

An ice cream sundae in Largs.

Bold and sweet, with masses of clover honey (with comb) and not for the only time this week a sense of density, with some added smoke in the background. There’s layered aromatics, mixing apricot jam on warm sourdough toast, tarte tatin, cedar, sultana and, as it develops, an upping of peat. Water brings out herbs, mastic, a little cow gum and dried fruits, but things have slightly dampened down.

Big toffee and smoke from the off. It’s drier and more structured than you might expect from the nose with a smouldering quality that lasts for the duration, bringing in Seville orange thrown on the embers of a peat fire. An unctuous, creamy, honeyed quality kicks in from the mid-palate on, mixing with the balanced smoke and a savoury edge which adds a sense of intrigue. Water brings out burning fruit wood, some allspice, but again it loses some impact.

Long and fruit-filled when neat.

Rich, balanced and rewarding, but leave the water on the side.

We sit by as the Flames Go Higher.

Light and slightly spirity. Unusually, there are nutty elements in here: a mix of crushed hazelnut and the nibbly bits at the bottom of a packet of peanuts. Some crisp oak, then some white bread. It’s pretty wispy. With water you get some powdered milk and crepe bandage.

Very gentle, with a tiny floral edge, but most of all this is ultra-clean spirit that has some fizzing heat, even at relatively low strength. The low cask involvement means there’s only a tiny amount of creaminess, although the mid-palate does show some interesting textural qualities. Water accentuates its citric bite, as well as that slightly milky quality. Dries, then flies away.

Lemon leaf. Dry.

It’s one of those head-scratching ones. Why not just keep it in cask for longer, or if you want to use it, put it in a blend because its character would give a lot of energy and feel.

A Skinny Love.

Frozen: Light cashew nut, some honey, orange oil, lime leaf and cinnamon with hints of steamed syrup pudding (in common with the Cameronbridge above), oak and red cherry. A certain tightness.
Room temperature: The nutty elements move forward along with the hard rummy elements. There’s also some fried banana and pancake batter. Water makes it lean and green with a slight metallic edge.

Frozen: Very rummy (young Cuban rum) and quite edgy, but the mid-palate has a mouth-coating creamy, nougat-like quality along with pistachio ice cream (plus wafer).
Room temperature: Like a kiwi fruit cheesecake with a squeeze of lime juice. Very light and all very front and centre, becoming very tight on the back. Water pulls out more feel.

Short and aggressive.

I much preferred it ice cold, but for all the learnings the blending team may have gleaned from this, you can’t help but feel that they’ve been working under strict orders. In Westeros there’s some mutant dog whose tail is wagging its body(*).

(*) I’ve never watched Game of Thrones, so haven’t a clue whether such a thing exists.

Walking on Thin Ice.

A chunky Port Dundas in its robust and almost earthy style with petrichor, or a football pitch after a game, with an added (and surprising) burnt element. Roasted corn and charred wood add a layer to the bruised apple, black banana and new suede shoes. With water comes an oxidative, dried fruit element.

Fat and chewy. That ashy quality is unusual for a grain, and it’s scented with some maple syrup, dry leaves and a hit of aspirin before salted caramel takes over. When water is added, that almost smoky element is retained along with the nutty, oxidised aspects reminiscent of dry Marsala. Continues to dry, and then falls away.

Heat and ashes.

Never had a grain like it. While it’s drier than you might expect from the nose, it’s worth seeking out. When you order one, remember: it’s Port DunDAS not DUNdas.

Playing football in autumn, Bonfires around.