Batch 203

Refreshingly light and buttery with an uplifting kick of zingy, freshly-grated lemon zest, which mellows into lemon curd and toasted meringue. Things then become distinctly savoury, with delicate white fish – cod? – a touch of salinity, a hint of black pepper spice and Belvita breakfast biscuits. With water (which I suggest you add) things become more bready and oily (olive oil), and just a little herbal – think lemon verbena.

A mellow start; some ripe, juicy orchard fruits that are obscured quite quickly by more bitter lemon peel, only this time it’s been salt-baked. A spicy, peppery quality moves into the mid-palate with a charcoal earthiness. Water helps to accentuate the fruit, which become slightly more tropical, and tones down the bitterness. 

Bitter, charred and salty. Black olive pits and brown sourdough.

A fiery number that needs taming with a drop of water.

A Mediterranean breakfast Sitting In The Midday Sun.

(Becky Paskin)

The dark, toffee colour already gives away the fact this is a heavily-Sherried dram, and the nose doesn’t disappoint. Thick, chewy, sweaty. There’s an earthiness from cigar butts and fresh leather brogues, with dark, rich fruits in the shape of stewed plums, dried figs, raisins and prunes. A menthol lift from liquorice and sweet mint keeps it from being too boggy. I know this is Laphroaig, but I can’t pick up much smoke.

Thick and sweet, it almost appears two-dimensional and then, suddenly, things become juicy – prune juice, overripe peaches, stewed apples and a dribble of Um Bongo. There’s a slight sour note towards the back, and then… ah! There’s the smoke! It’s all dead ashtray, bonfire embers and ash, ash, ash, but the sweet, earthy, fruity Sherry tags along for the ride.

Ashy and dry, like chewing on discarded, used cigarettes.

It’s a big dram, but fades all too quickly.

Kicking around an old leather football as the city burns, its Ashes raining down.

(Becky Paskin)

Kicks off with pretty punchy coastal smokiness, with an added sweet note that then wanders down to the shore (sea-washed pebbles, salinity, dripping-wet crab creels). Away in the back is sweet apple, then comes a pea pod-like element. Although initially it seems a little angular when dosed with water, things settle into a smokier area: moor-burn, with a sweeter element of coconut behind. In time it freshens up and becomes bracingly salty.

On first sip it seems to reverse the normal flow: starting dry and smoky, then getting progressively sweeter (sugared almond and nougat). On second sip, with the mouth coated, the smoke covers the palate along with a rather lovely balancing creaminess: poached pear, hibiscus, smoked crowdie and that green note seen on the nose just hanging around in the background. It copes well with water (making it good Highball material) which also accentuates its gentle qualities and overall balance: trifle, then a tickle of flames at the end.

Smoke and a little tweak of buttermilk (in the nicest possible way).

Another great Islay dram to share during a drinking session. Glasses, friends, throw the cork away.

Sam Simmons dressed as Mr Darcy emerges from the water. Oh The Thrill Of It All!

(Dave Broom)

Has Mòine’s dry, calamus/gentian/heather root style of smoke, allied to bay and camphor (almost Vick’s Vaporub) on the back, along with spurge and a cardamom back note alongside fresh almond. Becomes slightly ashier in time. Water brings out driftwood, hazelnut and more of the now heathery smoke.

The smoke rolls in as quietly as a sea fog, adding perfume to the mix of paprika-dusted roast almonds, and walnut oil. I needed to add water to reveal fully its sweet side. Now there’s sweet spices, iced gingerbread and the mix of honey and fragrant dustiness you get when running through heather. The smoke is now hanging back, scenting everything.

It all blooms into life here with a huge spicy attack of hickory and barbecue coals (South American asado style) before all of the sweet heathery elements concentrate into caramelised syrup.

It might take time (and a little coaxing) to get going, but you will be rewarded for your patience. A really well-balanced Mòine.

Look and you can find Angels of Ashes.

(Dave Broom)

A bold (yet attractive), slightly oily character from the off. The smoke has real impact in a highly-scented, incense-like fashion, though initially it sits slightly behind caramelised fruits before bursting into flame along with that cardamom (again), clove, myrrh, bitumen, carbolic soap and cypress. In time and with water there’s fresh bok choi, then grass clippings on a garden bonfire (though you should always compost instead, folks) and that core of wood resin and smoke.

Not quite as ferocious as the nose suggests. In fact, it starts very gently with barley sugar/orange barley water, then roasted spices and the sappy elements, as the smoke steadily builds. There’s decent complexity here: salty molasses and a North African miasma of leather, spice, smoke and resins. With water, it becomes massively oily.

Robust, lightly leathery, smoky, oaky and long.

There’s big oak, but the smoke balances. Punchy yet elegant: less Marvin Hagler and more Thomas Hearns.

A celebration for The May Queen.

(Dave Broom)

Unusually for an Islay whisky, this opens with light maltiness (mash tun) and a hint of muesli, with raisins and pineapple dotted about the bowl. Behind, there’s a balancing, sweet fruitiness. The smoke emerges steadily and kiln-like, with an element of sphagnum moss and a sprinkle of brine. With water, there’s more toffee, cooked fruits and (wet) Assam tea leaves.

The nose suggests it will be dry, smoky and nutty. Instead there’s a good deal of richness mixed with light white pepper notes, before the all-enveloping smoke surges forward, mixing with berry fruits and then, finally, that nutty malt. When water is added you get (smoky) treacle toffee and crême caramel.

Smoky and sweet malt.

Named after an area of farmland close to Bridgend. It’s family tradition that when we drive past we sing, ‘Scarabus, Scarabus will you do the fandango?’ This is more of a quiet waltz.

Take your partners for the Waltz of the New Moon.

(Dave Broom)