So World Whisky day has come and gone, and yet has left an indelible impression on mind and palate thanks to one of Regional's more interesting and eclectic blind(ish) tastings, hosted by the one and only, Daniel McLaren Moon, a man never lost for an adjective.
There were old whiskies, that spoke their mind, like belligerent dusty old gentlemen, unafraid of offending the odd, unsuspecting customer, whilst still being admirably true to themselves, and youngsters with scant regard for convention who were as equally unafraid of doing their own thing.
The Speyburn 25 year old, sporting a slightly cluttered nose of apple fruit, fino and fly spray, was not the group's favourite, but was it more about a sipping subtlety and a deftness of flavour, lost in the whirl-wind immediacy of the tasting situation? The even older Jura was next, with its nose of sweet oak covered in autumn moss that still oozed sappy molasses, and offered a spicy palate that finished with further oak, balsam and hints of winter; a well seasoned whisky that seemingly went through the seasons.
Then came the Bladnoch, a lowland of respected pedigree, with a confounding mix of virgin's tears, wax, perfume and nail polish, that floated in a pawl of sawdust, akin to a dubiously decorated statue of the Mother Mary perhaps. The palate was all oil, heather and sparkle, yet, with a contradictory bitterness on a finale of dry, woodiness - a whisky of clear definition yet indecision.
Next was the mystery whisky, which revealed itself (after no exacting guesses, but a couple of close "Campbeltowns") as the Springbank 16 Local Barley. Showing some definite typicity through sea brine and rashers on the nose, it developed into full blown sea salt and nettles on the palate that some found "young" but most found quaffable. A collectible Whisky no doubt from one of the big names, yet, again, not one for the collective palate of the night.
Like a cheese to the Springbank's chalk, next was an offering from Glendronach, introduced at the start as a distiller making arguably the worlds greatest and most sought after whiskies of the moment, a big bill that the whisky certainly fitted. The nose was almost tangibly big and rich, a sticky date pudding or Xmas cake, served with further dried figs in a room of cigar smokers. The palate was just as large, dripping with PX and the tasting room was certainly roused, throwing up adjectives for Daniel quicker than he could write them down.
The penultimate Whisky was the Cadenhead Glen Grant-Glenlivet, which certainly had comparisons to the Glendronach with its sweet full nose, but showing apples, pears, hints of acetate and creaming soda, this was seemingly driven more by bourbon than heavy sweet sherry. The tricky crowd was once again fairly divided, a funeral perhaps following on form the marriage of the previous whisky.
And lastly was the Sanaig, the latest offering from the coming of age Kilchoman distillery. An immediate hit of peat was one man's "pay dirt" that led to smoke, apples, Jellybeans and lemon zest in a clear indication of nasal complexity. Then came the palate, grassy and wonderful to some, with a waxy texture and hints of spearmint on the finish and a powerful lingering anaesthetic quality from its surging 46% alcohol. One for the peatheads no doubt, but showing sophistication nonetheless.
And thus proceedings drew to a close, and as Daniel totted up our scores, we finished on a final tot of Wolfburn, a real young 'un but a certain quaffer too, and which was duly consumed without engaging too much mental energy.
And here Is how the whiskies placed, on a night where it was learned that a string of adjectives does not necessarily guarantee quality but does at least guarantee an interesting Whisky.
