Glendronach NAS (75 proof, OB, 1950s)
A bottle I opened for my 30th birthday, which feels like it was but a mere few of centuries ago. This is my last sample and I realised I never wrote notes, so let’s send it out in style. Needless to say this livery is pretty iconic and has influenced more than a few labels over the years… Colour: deep gold. Nose: this extremely typical profile that meshes old style malt whisky with old bottle effect. Metal and shoe polishes with mechanical oils, greasy toolbox rags, hessian and a rather light and fragrant peat with herbal shades. Getting rather sooty and also meaty with many meat stocks, bouillon, bone marrow and coal smoke. A style which just does not exist at all anywhere in today’s world as far as I’m aware. Sheep wool, mutton, suet, linseed oil, mushroom tea. Hypnotically fascinating stuff that you could nose and dissect for hours. Mouth: it’s peatier than I recall, but perhaps time away from the bottle with a touch of air has done that. I’d also say it feels weightier than 43%. There’s a lot of dry herbs, wee tarry notes, black pepper, smoked teas and its extremely camphory with olive and cod-liver oils. Some more metallic touches which is this OBE coming through again. Peaty, savoury, roots, umami and full of turf, dried herbs, meat stocks and various broths and soups. Finish: good length, on metal polish, black pepper, wood spices, lanolin, camphor, tar, soot and leaf mulch. Some wonderfully soft and spicy peat smoke in the aftertaste. Comments: Deeply emotional whisky to try, even if it isn’t quite perfect and that you can feel these wee inclusions of OBE diminish it in a technical sense slightly. It’s still a remarkable education to experience such flavours. Now, to find a 100 proof version…
SGP: 373 - 88 points.

Smith’s Glenlivet Liqueur Scotch Whisky (70 proof, Mayor, Sworder & Co Ltd, 1930s)
An ancient bottle, very generously opened by Olivier. This bottle ended up as part of a large whisky collection in Denver Colorado, before finding its way back to Scotland to finally be cracked open in Edinburgh. These rather amazing journeys are always part of the joy of such old bottles to me - and why I think it’s worth keeping bottles for the future on occasion. Colour: brownish amber. Nose: ahh, an exquisite nose. Quinces, tinned fruits in syrup, peaches, apricots, plum wine, ancient sauternes, long-aged mead, very old yellow Chartreuse. One of those old bottles that says ‘liqueur’ and makes you really wonder if some sort of ex-Benedictine cask wasn’t involved at some point. The whole profile just screams syrupy, sticky, sugary maturity. Myriad notes of jams, fruit preserves and cordials. In the background tiny notes of rancio and wee herbal waxy touches. Mouth: it’s undeniably fragile. But there’s beauty here aplenty too. Manuka honey, praline, dark chocolate truffle, cocoa powder, aged mead that’s drying out, herbal extracts and generally more of these herbal liqueur profiles. Seriously, did they add sugar to this? It wouldn’t surprise me in the least, I’m sure there are many, many practices common in this era that we just know nothing about now. Swept under the carpet of history. Anyway, there’s now also some raisins, cream sherry and chocolate liqueur drizzled over boozy cherries. I’m getting carried away here. Finish: medium and returning to this impression of boozy winter fruits. Christmas pudding drowned in old armagnac, apricot brandy and still this wonderfully persistent chocolatey vibe. Comments: You could quaff litres of this stuff at this time of year. The nose was utterly spellbinding, whereas the palate probably lacked a few notches of oomph. This bottled around 46% would have been a total killer. However, as it is, this is still rather heartbreaking beautiful ancient malt whisky. Tastes like they added around one or two bushes of old Chateau d’Yquem though.
SGP: 652 - 91 points.

Glenlivet 12 yo (18 under proof, Alexander MacKintyre & Sons of Tomintoul, circa 1920s)
An ancient bottle with a driven cork probably from around the early 1920s. 18 under proof equates to 46.8% in today’s money, although this one may have lost one or two degrees along the way. Once again we have Olivier to thank for opening this amazing old relic. Colour: gold. Nose: yellow fruits, acacia honey, overripe melon, peaches, nectar, pollens - the most stunningly elegant and layered aroma. It oozes this impression of fatness and texture but is also riddled with these soft, complex fruity touches which you just almost never find in such ancient bottles. Tinned fruits preserved in their own syrups, yellow flowers and ancient meat laced with salt. Hypnotic and totally stunning. Mouth: the insulation provided by the higher alcohol is immediately evident. The mouthfeel is just wonderful and this sense of synchronicity with the nose - that you rarely get with much older whiskies - really sings here with all these sticky yellow fruits and syrups. Quince, apricot jam, golden sultans, the most gentle and elegant of peat smokes and wee herbal kisses. Beyond that the complexity really builds with orange peel, rose syrup, cardamom and bitter herbal teas. Finish: medium and on many softer spice tones, white pepper, bitter citrus piths, kumquat and   some rather dusty but punchy waxiness. Comments: Spellbinding, haunting old malt whisky. Once again a flavour profile which is totally extinct but, unlike the Glendronach for example, there’s a little more shared DNA with later production decades in terms of the freshness and ripeness of the fruit components. However, that may just be the preservative power of the higher alcohol, which has clearly worked some serious magic here. Anyway, whatever alchemy is at play, this is an utterly incredible old bottle!
SGP: 652 - 93 points.

Glen Grant 10 yo (100 proof, Moray Bonding Co, 1950s)
Old single malts at 100 proof from this era are extremely rare, so understandably I was very happy to get my hands on this one. A bottle I opened for the Whisky Show Old & Rare back in February at the start of this year, a mere 150 years ago… Colour: deep gold. Nose: pow, and you’re dead! Just a bewildering mix of natural tar, nectars, soft, herbal peat smoke, crystallised orange peel, mead, old green Chartreuse and many tiny notes of dried flowers, juniper, exotic fruit teas, waxes, old leather, toolboxes, bouillon and various meat stocks and broths. This very umami / savoury / herbal profile that very old malts such as this seem to display in abundance. You really get the impression this is something to do with peat and the way it kind of crumbles in the bottle over the course of decades into myriad sub-component flavours and aromas. With water: only one or two drops and it becomes amazing, similar in profile but with the fruits elevated and in harmony with these other aspects. Dried and crystallised citrus and exotic fruits, herbal and smoked teas and a rather pristine and chiselled salinity. Mouth: gah! Just immense! Like a smoothie made of leather and pure tar! Flinty, smoky minerals, meat broths mixed with kerosine, tarred old rope, camphor, pine resins, herbal-infused olive oil, slated liquorice and even wee touches of brine and deep, muscular peat smoke now. Utterly stunning! With water: holy shit! I’m sorry but this is becoming utterly incredible. Call the anti-maltoporn brigade, immediately if you don’t mind, although I know they’re busy at this time of year. Finish: endless, utterly hypnotic, poetically glorious, mind-blowing and peaty! Comments: Between this and the Glenlivet 12 yo you just know that alcohol is the key to whisky’s long-term preservation in glass. Even bottles with good levels suffer over decades with OBE it seems, whereas here the level was on the low side and time seems to have done it nothing but wonders. A spellbinding and utterly brilliant whisky that reminds you why you love this daft spirit in the first place.
SGP: 575 - 95 points.

Bunnahabhain 27 yo 1947/1975 (90.5 proof, Matthew Gloag & Son)
At the time I think this would have counted as a semi-official bottling. There’s also a more common version at 75 proof, however this version at what is almost certainly natural strength (51.6%) is the only version of this one I ever saw. Another bottle I cracked for Old & Rare earlier this year and one that Serge already recorded notes for and was suitably impressed (WF 94). Colour: gold. Nose: of course Bunnahabhain during this era was - like all Islay makes at the time - peated. Here is shows in abundance and in fact it kind of speaks with a Bowmore accent as there’s many subtle fruits emerging alongside this extremely elegant, coastal peat smoke profile. Seawater, pink grapefruit, lemon peel, guava and then tarred hessian, camphor and smoked sea salt with iodine drops. Medicines, pristine salinity, natural tar and many delicate coastal aspects underneath. Stunning complex and playful in the way it keeps on evolving. With water: fruits, fruits, fruits. But gently so, this sense of delicate and poised fruitiness composed of crystallised grapefruit, lime, kumquat and passion fruit. Mouth: oh dear, this is incredible. The peat on the nose plays tricks with you and you could almost think it’s some top notch 60s Islay whisky, but here there’s no room for equivocating - this is something more old school altogether. The texture and the weight are incredible. Fat, glycerol peat, herbal, turfy smoke and an almost gelatinous medicinal quality. The fruits are also there but it’s more towards tangerines, grapefruit, blood orange and many rather sappy and herbal extract aspects, wintergreen, sandalwood and fir wood. With water: cohesion and perfection. All aligning on this extremely syrupy, textural collision of oily peat, herbal liqueurs, fruit syrups, cough medicines, wormwood and tiny flashes of wonderfully fresh salinity and coastal touches. Finish: long and extremely resinous, herbal, sooty, delicately peaty, smoky and medical. More crystallised fruits too. Comments: Amazing to try such an ancient Islay whisky, especially one that shed its peat so notably for several decades later on, which really serves to emphasise what a historical and different style this is. Like the Glen Grant, the ABV here has really preserved it, and what you’re left with is a profoundly vivid and irrefutable impression of just how different Scottish malt whiskies tasted in these eras. I think I concur with Serge on this one.
SGP: 666 - 94 points.