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January 2, 2026 |
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Angus's Corner
From our correspondent and skilled taster Angus MacRaild in Scotland
Illustrations, Darius Pronowski
Whisky and terroir:
Part Two |
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Terroir is a French concept, one evolved and nurtured over centuries. It describes the collective influence of soil, geology, climate, habitat and agricultural practice that collectively can be noticeably manifest in the final character of a product. Most commonly wine, but also other products as well. Terroir has also been argued to exist in people too, that regional characteristics related to the land and environment can be found in local populations as well. Finally, the most critical thing about terroir as it relates to French wine, is cumulative recognition and intellectual consensus arrived at over centuries of discussion and analysis. It is this latter point that Scotch Whisky lacks. We are just at the outset of that process in many ways, which is what makes our debates about this subject both healthy and necessary. |
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I would characterise the modern ‘cultural’ era of whisky as aligning with the proliferation of the internet in the late 1990s. I would distinguish that from what we might define as a modern ‘production’ era, which is roughly from the early 1970s until today. In this modern cultural era, the people who pushed the discussion of terroir and made the case for it were Bruichladdich, chiefly Mark Reynier, who later further asserted this philosophy at Waterford. They were not the first people to talk about Scotch Whisky with language and ideas that alluded to concepts of terroir. Aeneas MacDonald’s book ‘Whisky’, published in 1930, expressed many viewpoints about Scotch Whisky which attributed its character to geographical influence. Indeed, this book is a fascinating artefact of an early, pre-modern era of specifically Scottish malt whisky enthusiasm. Malt whisky marketing from its fledgling era of the 1900s through to the 1980s, would frequently talk about water, glens, lochs, Highland air, Highland people, peat, tradition; things which are all potentially part of a much more formal definition of terroir. Ideas from wine were frequently repurposed for Scotch Whisky marketing, but rarely ever explicitly expressed. I remember being struck by the neck tag on an old 1970s bottle of Sherriff’s Bowmore that described it as ‘bone dry’ and ‘mineral’ – language very obviously re-purposed from wine. It was an approach which seems typical of Scotch Whisky: it would rather borrow and re-purpose, than create something bespoke. |
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It was out of this world that Reynier and co took the next step and explicitly connected Scottish malt whisky with terroir. This was, at least in the initial phase, purely marketing, a way to speak about and sell a product which had been produced in a relatively unremarkable and traditional ‘modern’ manner with the destination of blended Scotch the intent. This is the most immediate ‘why’ of terroir in Scotch Whisky: a way to distinguish, to market and to sell a product that sets you apart from much larger, commercial competitors in a crowded marketplace. It is also one of the arguments that those who readily dismiss the existence of terroir in whisky reach for: it’s just marketing bullshit. It’s a useful argument as it reveals that, if you are going to talk about terroir, you’d better have something meaningful and demonstrable in your product and practice backing it up. |
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Bruichladdich would go on, under Renier’s era, to make some valiant efforts in its production practices to shore up the terroir marketing angle. Under the ownership of Remy, Bruichladdich’s language has evolved and the explicitness around terroir has softened; focus on sustainability, provenance and ‘thought provocation’ have all been given equal or more prominent focus. Perhaps we can interpret this evolution as a quiet admission that such an intensely ideological focus on terroir is challenging to maintain to its logical conclusion. |
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It is also often said that terroir is a choice, the wine grower can choose to step back and give it space, or she can choose to intervene to alter or delete its characteristics. It’s a tension between the natural effects of the land on a monoculture of vines and the judgement and human decision making of the wine grower. It is this idea of judgement and deliberate decision making that is most relevant and critical to Scotch Whisky as well. Terroir is bound up so deeply with French wine because it so often overlays effortlessly with the decisions which also lead to the greatest quality in the end product. The most lauded wines, also tend to vividly express terroir. In Scottish malt whisky production, can we say that the decision to pursue and allow room for terroir in the product are the same decisions that will lead to the finest possible quality whisky? I’m not convinced this is the case. |
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When I was in Japan back in February, Yumi Yoshikawa at Chichibu made a very simple but important point: sometimes they use barley from Scotland, sometimes from Japan, but they don’t use Japanese barley for the sake of it as it isn’t always the best quality. They want the best quality barley for making whisky. A similar way to think about it might be a theoretical decision around what yeast strain to use. If you want to make a whisky that expresses terroir, you might want to isolate a unique yeast strain from your local barley, or from a peat bog you cut from, but will it make better whisky than using a more classical yeast? In whisky, terroir does not necessarily equal quality. |
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So, does it follow that terroir in whisky is of less importance? That it belongs more to the remit of the marketeer and story spinners? I think it tells us that, if the whisky maker wants to legitimately discover, make space for and enshrine terroir in their product, then it must go hand in hand with quality as well. If you start a distillery with the foundational objective of expressing terroir, you will not really know the finer details of what character of whisky you’ll make, terroir is something that has to be discovered, then nurtured. Striking that balance while also navigating a pathway of decision making that elevates quality is a challenge. |
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If done correctly though, it also conveys a potent message that goes beyond whisky and becomes political. True pursuit of terroir in whisky making is limiting, which means it limits the capacity of your business to endlessly expand and grow. To truly express character from your immediate and natural environment, means accepting limitations, it means standing apart from the mass commercial approach to whisky making that sacrifices quality in the pursuit of yield, efficiency and stretches credibility to breaking point on pricing. It says: I accept a different business model; I accept a certain limit to growth; I am pursuing commercial success via the route of quality and value - at the expense of volume. This is perhaps one of the most important reasons why terroir can matter, but it hinges on being done correctly with a rather dogmatic and ideological attention to detail. |
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As soon as we interrogate terroir in whisky, it also throws up some challenging questions. What specifically is terroir in whisky, and how is it distinct from distillery character? For example, if you allow your site’s natural water resources to cool your distillate and you accept seasonal variation inherent in that, then is that character effect from cooling counted as a character of terroir or distillery character? If you chose to exert greater control over your distillate and you deploy technological means to maintain a uniform cooling profile all year round, does its effect transition from terroir characteristic to distillery character? |
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One of the strongest arguments for the existence of terroir in whisky, is when peat is used. After all, what is peat but the literal, physical land? Land immolated and adhered at a molecular level into the very building blocks of the whisky itself. There have been studies that show there are geographical-specific peat flavour characteristics in Scottish malt whisky. Even when a distillery like Springbank uses peat cut from Tomintoul (as they have in recent times), it could be argued they are still expressing a terroir, just that of Tomintoul, not Machrihanish. This is one of the effects of the centralisation of malting, the reduction in diversity of peat bogs used, leads to a homogenising effect on peated Scottish malt whiskies more broadly. Following that logic, does the use of new, or relatively active, American and European oaks invest those spirits with some terroir characteristics of the forests of origin where those trees grew? In my view, the great contradiction that sat at the heart of Bruichladdich and Waterford, was their use of wine casks. If you make all that noise about terroir character and barley, only to then fill into active wine casks, the logical underpinning of your guiding philosophy falls apart. |
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That’s the other political element of terroir. In the face of a climate crisis, and arguably a wider global ‘polycrisis’, the decisions that businesses take, and choose not to take, all carry meaning. If we can use an embrace of terroir to also make these sorts of luxury products, which make life enjoyable, more sustainable to produce, then this is broadly a good thing. It’s also a politically useful, even necessary, stance to have and one that will increasingly become essential in years to come. We turn our focus upon the natural and the local because we must and we should, but if it can also serve as a pathway to better products then this combination of purposes becomes one of the strongest answers as to why terroir can matter. |
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WF's Little Duos,
today Banff vs Banff |
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Another long-closed distillery we've always enjoyed tasting is Banff – admittedly rather inconsistent in style, as far as I can recall, but occasionally showing incredible flashes of fruity brilliance. It's worth remembering that Banff was closed in 1983, most of the buildings were demolished a few years later, and the last warehouse was destroyed by fire in 1991. A well-known story is that a Stuka had already destroyed part of the distillery in 1941, while an explosion during maintenance work destroyed a large section again, including the stills, in 1959. The final closure, however, was voluntary. |
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Banff 1975/2013 (44.4%, The Face to Face Spirit Company, Jack Wiebers & Andrew Prezlow, bourbon cask) 
These are extremely limited batches, sold exclusively direct to the punter, from time to time, especially at festivals. Yet another reason to turn up at whisky festivals, isn’t it? Colour: gold. Nose: and there you have it, mangoes and wee bananas rolled in vanilla cream, beeswax and a dab of olive oil, plus two or three fresh mint leaves tossed in for good measure. The result of this sort of combination is inevitably superlative, and one would never suspect this baby was 37 or 38 years old when bottled. For the time being, I find it clearly superior to the 1975 ‘The Cross Hill’ from the same source. Mouth: it’s a touch more on the oaky side, but that was to be expected, and the whole remains well in check thanks to the fruit, this time veering more towards apple and peach. The oak delivers cinnamon, allspice, aniseed, turmeric and nutmeg, plus a touch of white pepper, but it’s all reined in by the apple, which keeps the shop running. Finish: fairly long, with the spices still firing away from the oak department, a little more aniseed-driven now, while the wax and very ripe apple wrap it all up most elegantly. Comments: let’s say it plainly, these older distillates generally displayed more wax and fat than today’s malts ever dare to dream of. Superb Banff in any case.
SGP:651 - 91 points. |
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Banff 23 yo 1976/2000 (54.5%, Signatory Vintage, Silent Stills, cask #2250, 245 bottles)
A series that needs no further introduction really, and one we’re gradually working through with the thoroughness of civil servants on overtime. At this pace, I reckon we’ll have polished off the lot by around 2057. Colour: white wine. Nose: rather more on the rhubarb and kiwi side of things, with a faint metallic glint (old copper coins) and a touch of patchouli, quickly joined by mint, eucalyptus, and even fresh oregano and chervil, of all things. Fir honey wraps it all together—surely this one is properly ‘green’? Greetings to all smell-colour synaesthetes out there! With water: wax, honey, vanilla and figs enter the room. Mouth (neat): extremely close to the 1975 on the palate. Same fatness, same waxiness, same green fruits, angelica, apple... With water: perfect, with the return of mint and aniseed, backed up by the cask spices, still wonderfully elegant, with cinnamon at the helm. Finish: long, fatty, though lifted by citrus and dill. Comments: not all sister casks were from the same school, but 2249 by Signatory was superb, 2251 too. And so is 2250. A dead heat today.
SGP:651 - 91 points. |
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December 2025 |
Serge's favourite recent bottling this month:
Springbank 30 yo 1994/2025 (45.5%, The Auld Alliance, 15th Anniversary, cask #91) - WF 93
Serge's favourite older bottling this month:
Longmorn-Glenlivet 1963/1983 (56.2%, The Gillies Club, Australia, Pure Malt, cask #3445) - WF 96
Serge's favourite bang for your buck this month:
Kilkerran ‘Heavily Peated Batch 13’ (58.6%, OB, 2025) - WF 87
Serge's favourite malternative this month:
Château de Gaube 1963/2025 (44.1%, Domaine de Lassaubatju for Kirsch Import, Journal des Kirsch #12, Bas Armagnac, 164 bottles) - WF 93
Serge's thumbs up this month:
A Good Old-Fashioned Christmas Whisky 16 yo 2009/2025 (55%, The Whisky Exchange, Highland single malt, 1st fill oloroso sherry butts, casks #31+32, 1,367 bottles) - WF 88
Serge's Lemon Prize this month:
Dictador 23 yo 1999/2022 ‘Parrafo I’ (43%, OB, Colombia, Borbon, 310 bottles) - WF 40 |
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January 1, 2026 |
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On the agenda this New Year’s Day: our official New Year’s wishes – probably the daftest we’ve ever come up with, but don’t worry, next year’s will be even worse – followed by the first instalment of a superb three-part article by Angus on whisky and terroir. And finally, two cracking little Springbanks to kick off the year in style. Sound good? In the coming days, you may expect our 'best' of 2025 and maybe some funny figures. Stay tuned. |
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Angus's Corner
From our correspondent and skilled taster Angus MacRaild in Scotland
Illustrations, Serge's son, whose artist name is Darius Pronowski |
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In March this year, we took a family holiday to Orkney. That trip, along with a number of contemporaneous occurrences and discussions in the whisky industry at that time (and now), motivated me to write this piece. I finished it this past week and it’s quite long, so I’ve divided it into three sections and published it here on Whiskyfun during the holidays. I hope you like it. |
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Whisky and terroir:
Part One |
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Scotland’s edges appear ragged and torn, framed by the weathered scars of ancient and violent geology. Approaching from the softer innards of Fife and Perthshire, the land sparsens and tenses; you get a sense of Earth’s sinew and bone yearning against the membrane of landscape. Geological desire lines of rock, insisting their way to the surface, to exposure and light. |
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We drove the crooked spine of the A9 and A99 all the way to Gill’s Bay; beyond Inverness, through relentless Spring sunlight, everything was yellow splashes of Gorse facing the dazzling, ever-shifting blue of the North Sea. Broken up by fields of compelling green and the deeper greens of pine. As we pass Golspie, Brora and Helmsdale, those greens begin to mottle, phasing into peat and moorland, the Gorse yellows become intermittent, and a sense emerges of exposure and rawness. The land appears beaten, winnowed into low oppression by ancient channels of wind. Trees are fewer here, clustered into sheltered dips and furrows of the earth, those that grow in the open have yielded to the shape and will of the same winds that have raked this land since it was molten. |
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The shape of the language changes here too – Latheron, Lybster, Clythe, Thrumster – funny words without the romance or lyricism which we usually associate with the Scottish Highlands. Words that give a sense of older and different cultures, that speak something of the strangeness and starkness of the land they stand for. At Gill’s Bay the ferry breaks away from the exposed rock and strikes out towards Orkney. In this light the sea appears a vast and open plateau of quiet, sun-enriched blue, an expansive, modulating blue that plays with your vision and can change the way you think about an individual colour. The calm of the water is surreal; we’re aware that we drift across a resting beast capable of the almightiest fury. |
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Orkney emerges out of this unsettling blue surrealism: green and lolloping fields stitched between peatlands with drystone seams and smudges of mottled rock. It feels, in the immediate sense, like another world. Like so much of northern Scotland, however, amidst all this surface beauty and a serenity temporarily granted by the grace of Spring sunlight, it is possible to sense an emptiness, the disquiet of emptied lands – of a culture and people not so long ago decanted away to make space for sheep. Go to Lewis and the shape of the land might tell of a different geology, a different accent to the beauty, but the quiet absence is the same. |
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Spend a little more time, and everything becomes more cosmic and amusing: this is a land that eats everything! All we can do thus far, in the face of this slow digestion, is put up rocks. We can order them simply or with artifice and grandeur, but the entropy of the wind, the lichen and the bog at our feet make a mockery of it all in the end. You can feel these things on mainland Scotland, but on Orkney – the cradle of civilization in these British Isles – these things feel a little starker, a little more exposed and inescapable. It is a humbling place to be. It's also a place where it’s possible to feel ever so slightly more at ease with this ruthless impermanence. |
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As I write this, I’m drinking a Highland Park single malt. It is ten years old, distilled in 1999 and aged in a first-fill bourbon barrel. Its flavour makes me think of honey, it recalls heather and the sense of peat smoke somewhere in the background. It is sweet, but naturally so. I wonder if this distillate was tankered off the island to be filled and mature in a warehouse somewhere in central Scotland; is this the first time this (now) whisky has been back to Orkney since it was spirit off the still? Knowing a bit about whisky, you wonder these things. But these supposedly dissonant thoughts sit in odd comfort alongside drinking this whisky and thinking about flavours I associate with this land and this place: honey, heather, peat, coastal air… |
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On the journey up here, we stopped at Dornoch Castle for a night, a place I’ve tasted many of the whiskies made at the distilleries that dot the land we just travelled through. Pulteney and Balblair feel like sibling makes to me: sweeter, more bucolic distillates that inhabit the space between those yellow flushes of gorse and iridescent coastal blues. Clynelish, Ord and Dalmore feel like they belong to the more austere, exposed and stony parts of these lands, in my mind these are more muscular and weighty spirits, mineral, like the exposed, wind-hewn geology they sit upon. |
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To write about Scotland, and about its whiskies, in the way I just have is a choice. It’s a style frequented many times over the years by any number of writers. It’s a way of writing that tries desperately to be unromantic but fails nobly. There is probably good reason why we write this way, why we knit together the land and the whiskies that are made within and upon it, there is an instinctual urge to use the former to make sense of the latter, to use that awe-inspiring landscape as a narrative canvass in which to figuratively contextualise the whiskies that are literally made there. By the same token, there is a common and highly deliberate urge to uncouple these things – to drive the wedge of science and rationality between the land and the distillates and to rend them apart. |
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This is the argument that we’ve been having for at least three decades now: the argument about terroir, about whether it exists in Scotch whisky, and if so, to what extent? How do we discern it? How do we refute it? I have been continually fascinated by the conversation, but I haven’t written much about it myself. The recent misfortunes that have befallen Waterford in Ireland, and this holiday I’ve taken to Orkney, have both made me think once again about terroir and its place in whisky. I believe that, amidst all the bluster that swirls about this subject, what is missed is not if terroir exists in whisky, or if it can exist, but whether terroir matters at all? If it does matter, then why? I do not intend to fully litigate the case for or against terroir’s existence in whisky, although, there will need to be some discussion of this, and I should say, in my view, terroir can and does exist in some spirits. What I believe is more interesting is why we discuss terroir in whisky at all… |
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Time Warp: Springbank ex-sherry by Signatory, 20 years apart |
You understand, we just couldn't let these final festive days pass without enjoying a bit more Springbank, could we? So we gave some serious thought to what kind of duo we could put together, and in the end decided to taste two Signatory Vintage expressions distilled twenty years apart. Which, let’s be honest, makes as much sense as any other setup. We needed a theme, you see… |
Isn't it said that the best soup comes from an old pot? |
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Springbank 35 yo 1989/2024 (47.8%, Signatory Vintage, Symington’s Choice, refill oloroso sherry butt, cask #14/03/1, 345 bottles)
The last Springbank 1989 from Signatory we tasted had been bottled back in the year 2000, imagine that! Colour: deep amber. Nose: full-on rum-soaked chocolate and raisins at first, and that goes on for quite a while before notes of petrol and shoe polish start to sneak in, together with fresh plaster, all adding that proverbial ‘Springbankness’. Then come dried apricots and a few wisps of crème de menthe. Very lightly oaked for now, leaning more towards singed fir wood than anything else. Mouth: chocolate, fir wood and mint right from the outset, and the whole thing is almost as dry as a cane thrashing—not a flaw at all in this context. We’re soon heading toward dark tobacco and bitter chocolate, paired with clove and juniper, plus a slight touch of salted grapeseed oil—that’s pure Springbank. No sulphury notes, which one might have feared in this vintage, especially in a sherry version. Finish: long, saltier, with more of that very black tea, mint, and, believe it or not, a drop of mezcal. The famous Campbeltown agaves, aren’t they (just joking). Comments: of course it’s excellent, even if the sherry does take the upper hand a bit, slightly overshadowing the fabled distillate. But all things considered, we love it, naturally. Watch out though, competition is on the way…
SGP:462 - 90 points. |
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Springbank 27 yo 1969/1997 (52.7%, Signatory Vintage, sherry butt, cask #2380, 520 bottles)
So many marvels in this series—Ardbeg, Laphroaig, and of course Springbank, some of whose 1969s have been absolutely magical (cask #790, WF 94) while others just a wee bit less so… But we hadn’t yet tasted this cask #2380, would you believe. Colour: gold. Good news! Nose: alright, let’s cut to the chase, this one is brimming with Springbankness, possibly a 3rd-fill. Sublime mineral and vegetal oils, chalky rock, dried banana peel, slightly underripe mangoes, tiny drops of peppermint essence, then a cavalcade of citrus peels, ointments, aromatic herbs, while—here comes a surprise—a wee oyster makes an appearance. Mad stuff. With water: little change, perhaps just a touch more greasiness—think engine grease—and a bit of paraffin. Mouth (neat): exceptionally oily and citrus-forward at first, then gradually shifts towards waxes, flinty notes, fruit skins (pear, peach, mango), and salted pistachio. Magnificent. With water: again, water doesn’t do much beyond gently amplifying the peppery and salty tones, and perhaps what the blessed younger whisky lovers, who’ve never seen James Brown live, refer to as ‘the funk’. Finish: long, more saline, more maritime, with our wee oyster making a comeback, joined by seaweed, nori, then grapefruit skins and pips. Beautiful bitterness. Comments: hardly a surprise, if we’re honest. Just between us, there are even faint echoes of ‘Old’ Clynelish, in sherry form.
SGP:562 - 93 points. |
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December 31, 2025 |
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A vertical lineup of 21 Karuizawa, none of which had ever graced our glasses before
As we had promised, perhaps a touch naively, but hey! We had originally planned to publish this session in several parts, grouped by decade of distillation, but then we thought, after all, this is Whiskyfun, is it not, so here we go with the full version…
(AI slop just for fun, hope the kanji aren't offensive, provided they even mean something) |
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Karuizawa 1999-2000/2015 'Asakusa Hong-An-Qi Temple' (59.5%, OB, batch 2) 
A fair number of casks from Karuizawa’s final vintages were eventually vatted together, most notably from 1999 and 2000. The original owners had even released a few 2001s, 12 years old, now as rare as a quiet Monday morning. Colour: dark gold. Nose: straight off the bat, it's peanut butter and roasted hazelnuts galore, with toasted wood chiming in behind, then the faintest murmurs of hydrocarbons—subtle, almost whispering. With water: the malt steps into the spotlight, unadorned and earthy, with a hint of cedarwood lending a Japanese temple kind of grace. Mouth: rather brutal at first, but then, wham, you're clouted by a volley of hyper-acidic wee citrus fruits—yuzu, finger lime, even a touch of calamansi perhaps—cutting cleanly through the richness and keeping everything fabulously fresh. With water: the malt and the oak now get their chance to shine, though the latter’s starting to dry things out a tad. Finish: medium in length, well poised, with peanuts and citrus making a cheerful comeback, then a faint chocolatey afterglow that whispers of one of those old Chamonix orange biscuits—remember those little marvels? Comment: slightly odd to suggest a Karuizawa as something of an apéritif, but frankly, that's exactly where this one leans, if you ask me. We’re not quite in the dazzling territory of the grand old vintages yet.
SGP: 551 - 85 points. |
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Karuizawa 1999-2000/2016 'The back of Fuji from the Minobu river' (59.7%, OB, batch 6) 
This series, grandly titled ‘36 Views of Minobu-gawa ura Fuji’, consisted of thirty-six different releases depicting Mount Fuji, and by the time they appeared, Karuizawa had already soared into the stratosphere of collectability, so precious few have been actually opened since. Colour: dark gold. Nose: much more expressive than expected, bursting straight away with citrus and a proper orange marmalade from a reputable preserve-maker, all laced with discreet but classy notes of camphor and menthol. A Karuizawa that remains rather uncomplicated yet boasts a lovely clean profile. With water: an orange loaf served with green Earl Grey—think Japanese afternoon tea at five sharp, minus the fuss. Mouth: powerful stuff, totally dominated by citrus, especially pink grapefruit. One is reminded of those splendid young Rosebanks from days of yore. Also a dash of bitter orange lurking in the background. With water: not much change, which is a relief, it merely gains a little creaminess, before the subtlest hints of rooty and aniseed notes start to glimmer. Finish: long, zesty, invigorating, and still gloriously citrus-led. Comment: the casks must have been handled with a light touch—this is clearly a notch above, and the progression is undeniable.
SGP: 651 - 88 points. |
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Karuizawa 1999-2000/2017 'Cellar Book' (61.4%, OB, LMDW, Geisha Label, refill sherry cask, 324 bottles)
Many Karuizawas came adorned with ravishing Geisha portraits, and I must confess, seeing a full set proudly displayed by a collector was rather more aesthetically pleasing than many a modern gallery wall. We’re not expecting a heavy sherry stamp here, given this came from a refill cask. Colour: dark gold. Nose: citrus is still in the frame but plays a supporting role this time, while roasted nuts—hazelnuts, pecans, peanuts, even a touch of walnut—take centre stage. It all sits beautifully, particularly with delicate herbal inflections of fennel and dill adding lift. With water: dare I say it evokes a proper artisanal pastis, perhaps from the Jura or deep Provence? There’s even something creamy about it, nose and all, plus scattered crumbs of those lovely Swiss cumin and anise biscuits. Mouth: citrus makes a spirited comeback—zests, marmalades, preserves—joined by apricots and a whisper of pistachio, and suddenly we’re perched in Sicily, sipping some mysterious liqueur a local nonna keeps under lock and key. With water: no dramatic shifts, which is just as well—liquid citrus peel mingled with gentle spice, a dusting of ginger, turmeric and a dash of maraschino. Finish: medium in length but the maraschino starts to assert itself more firmly, adding a candied cherry gloss. Comment: I suspect these releases from about a decade ago have benefited immensely from a gentle rest, with time doing its quiet polishing work.
SGP: 551 - 89 points. |
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Karuizawa 1999/2011 'Vintage' (58.9%, OB, Number One Drinks for LMDW, sherry butt, cask #867)
Whereas the 1999s were often vatted with 2000, here we have a ‘pure’ vintage, bottled in its rather green youth. Judging by the robe, this one’s clearly taken a deep dive into the sherry bath—far more so than the three multi-vintage expressions just sampled. Colour: light mahogany. Nose: an all-out barrage of wood glue, walnut stain, pipe tobacco and prunes, quickly joined by tar, chocolate truffles and, since we’re in Japan, a respectful nod to umeshu. There’s even a flicker of Chinese hoisin sauce, though it feels a few years off from making its real presence known. With water: a faint sulphury note darts in, but vanishes just as swiftly, leaving behind a playground of umami delights—MSG may be scorned at table, but in the glass it often works wonders. Soy sauce, oyster sauce, and the darkest of dark chocolates. Mouth: bold, spicy, unashamedly chocolaty, with pronounced notes of walnut liqueur, worn leather and strong pipe tobacco. Yet the citrus peeks through, perhaps as orangettes, those delightful slivers of orange peel dunked in dark chocolate. That said, in our humble experience, these ‘sherry monsters’ often get a touch petulant with water on the palate, so let’s see... With water: it does dry out a little—as they often do—revealing more bitter cocoa and well-worn leather. Finish: long, with proper bitters, and even a suggestion of dry vermouth—perhaps Noilly Prat, if we’re being precise. Comment: one for pairing with scallops, perhaps?
SGP: 461 - 87 points. |
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Karuizawa 1999/2016 'Geisha in Sherry Blossom' (58.6%, OB, sherry, cask #895, 320 bottles)
Arguably one of the most renowned of the late-vintage Karuizawas, if not the most revered, and judging by the relatively moderate hue, one suspects a bit more restraint and freshness here, despite the formidable strength. Colour: dark gold. Nose: glorious entrance on orgeat, natural rubber, pistachio oil and tiny seashells, all gently coated in orange blossom honey—applied with a feather, not a ladle. Add to that some sweet Virginia tobacco, a handful of dried fruits and a mere ghost of smoke, and one cannot help but think—loudly—of a certain Speyside distillery beginning with “M”, back in its heyday last century. With water: a freshly opened box of Cuban cigars—you may pick your brand. Mouth: utterly grand, expansive yet dignified, with a measured delivery of luxurious bitterness to start—think Italian green walnut liqueur (nocino)—then a cascade of dried figs, Medjool dates, Corinthian raisins and candied citron. Pure delight. With water: herbal spice now takes the wheel, with fresh mint and an almost mischievous twist of Thai basil making a graceful appearance. Finish: long, though once water enters the fray the oak edges forward slightly, but that’s a common development, and merely feeds the eternal question: to add water or not to add water? Comment: I’d never in a million nosings have pegged this as a 1999, but then again, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been spectacularly wrong. Could easily pass for an early 1980s vintage...
SGP: 562 - 91 points. |
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Karuizawa 30 yo 1987/2017 'Aqua of Life' (57.5%, OB, sherry butt, cask #2253, 292 bottles)
This one’s referred to as the ‘White’ edition, as there also exists a ‘Black’ variant from another cask (number 3655). The world of collectible whisky can be wonderfully straightforward at times, can’t it. I’ve not tasted many 1987s to date, though I do recall a much younger 15-year-old from the same vintage that was, shall we say, rather rustic. Worth noting that part of these casks had previously been drawn and released by the former owners in wee flat 25cl bottles. Colour: dark amber. Nose: sherry influence is clearly more pronounced again, though not in a prune-heavy direction—the wood is quite talkative here. Slightly earthy, with hints of rubber, paraffin oil, then dark chocolate and pipe tobacco, alongside ginger and a dash of ginseng. With water: charming camphor and fresh putty emerge, lending an extra touch of class. Mouth: more effective on the palate, though still showing a certain rustic edge—earthy, with olive oil, bitter orange, and a trace of sea salt. Have we used the word “rustic” already? With water: a gentler evolution this time, nothing dramatic. Finish: medium length, a little peppery, slightly sweet, with a hint of preserve, and that ginger note lingering in the aftertaste. Comment: that splendid 1999 cask number 895 rather stole its thunder, proving that greatness in spirits doesn’t always come with age. That said, still a cracking bottle.
SGP: 651 - 87 points. |
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Karuizawa 30 yo 1984/2015 (57.7%, OB, Artifices Series by Warren Khong, LMDW, sherry, cask #5410)
A ravishing bottle, all understated elegance, but let’s focus on what truly matters—the contents—especially since the 1984 vintage enjoys a near-mythical reputation at Karuizawa. Colour: light amber. Nose: we are flung headlong into the aether, in every conceivable sense—a nose of absolute splendour, staggeringly simple yet possessing a sort of fractal complexity, where each initial aroma—say, ink or fresh oil paint—immediately splinters into a thousand sub-aromas, which themselves multiply into even finer nuances. This, dear reader, is what we call a fractal nose, and here’s as fine an example as you’ll find. With water: and it keeps going—parsley, lovage, sage, borage—one herb leading to another like falling dominoes in an old apothecary. Right. Mouth: we’ve been whisked away to Islay now, where someone’s gone and vatted late 1960s Bowmore with 1970s Ardbeg and a splash of Port Ellen from whichever vintage you fancy. Astonishing freshness and tension wrapped around lemons, coal tar and a breath of sea breeze. With water: what can one say, except that we’re brushing the very edges of perfection, with more than a whisper of that other dearly missed legend, Brora. Finish: not terribly long, perhaps, but achingly fresh and uncannily cohesive, as if the whisky had been tuned to perfect pitch. Comment: it is a profound shame that Karuizawa cannot meet the same fate as Brora or Port Ellen—rebuilt, reborn, and, to borrow a phrase from our Ileach friends, speaking to us once more.
SGP: 563 - 94 points. |
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Karuizawa 29 yo 1983/2013 (54.3%, OB, Noh Label, bourbon cask, cask #8552, 130 bottles)
Another towering vintage from Karuizawa, though of course the notion of ‘vintage’ here is rather academic—it all comes down to which parcels and casks made their way to market, whether as single casks or small batches. That said, it’s always a pleasure to encounter a bourbon cask, which in theory gives the distillate more room to speak for itself. Colour: yellow gold. Nose: perhaps the most ‘Scottish’ of the lot so far, with an orchard fruit and subtle oiliness combo that’s downright perfect, even if touches of incense and balsa wood quickly rise to the fore. Olive oil again, pink grapefruit, fresh putty, along with some soft overripe apples, jujubes, and even fully matured medlars—what a shame those have all but vanished from our hedgerows. At any rate, we’re in the presence of a glorious nose, very “Highlands” in character. With water: the oily components grow stronger—putty, olive oil, paraffin wax, all humming in unison. Mouth: rich yet surgical, compact as an older Swiss chronometer and just as precise, on apple, mango and sesame oil, with a shimmering balance of honeyed and saline touches. Everything falls into place with unnerving grace. With water: a coastal edge now emerges, and I swear we’re nearly catapulted to Orkney—I’m even getting oyster notes, and I’m not prone to dramatising. Finish: fairly long, and since we’ve been drawing parallels to Scotland already, let’s just say this now veers into “old Highland Park” territory. Comment: the only real question left is whether we’ll manage to dip back under 90 points before this remarkable session comes to a close.
SGP: 552 - 93 points. |
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Karuizawa 29 yo 1983/2013 (59.4%, OB, Noh Label, sherry hogshead, cask #5322, 205 bottles)
Just to double-check whether 1983 really was a great vintage at Karuizawa. Only joking. That said, those Noh masks are of such unfathomable beauty... Colour: light amber. Nose: the sherry’s polite but assertive from the outset, with green walnut, raisins and a dab of sweet mustard, but the distillate, gloriously waxy and oily, soon takes command, to our great delight. This cask does feel just a touch more rustic than its splendid cousin, #8552. Beyond that, thoughts inevitably drift once more to that beloved distillery on Orkney, in similar or slightly older vintages. And now—yes—heather honey enters the chat. With water: a fine appearance of camphor, eucalyptus and menthol, all stepping forward with poise. Mouth: the Japanese side reasserts itself here, with flickers of horseradish invigorating a rich, honeyed and texturally weighty profile. Splashes of sea water and a trace of smoky brine only serve to reinforce the structure. With water: now the citrus charges in, dressed in honey and olive oil, forming what I’d call a near-perfect ensemble—something approaching the spirit of an Italian Renaissance still life, if you'll forgive the flourish. Finish: good length, more resinous and oily, with citrus returning alongside hints of seawater. Comment: impossible to pick a winner between this “Noh” and its sibling. We remain firmly in the... aether.
SGP: 552 - 93 points. |
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Karuizawa 1983/2014 'White Samurai' (59.1%, Number One Drinks, for Specialty Drinks, sherry butt)
A third 1983, purely for the sake of scientific rigour. More seriously, Specialty Drinks (The Whisky Exchange), much like La Maison du Whisky in France, played a major role in elevating Karuizawa to the status of malt whisky grand cru. The fact that only around three hundred casks remained when the Western world began to take notice certainly didn’t hurt the cultish rise either. But let’s not forget the quality itself... Colour: dark amber. Nose: well now, we’re nearly whisked off to Jamaica, into the realm of great molasses-based pot still rums—acetone, olives, burnt sugar, a touch of carbon—the whole bundle lingering for a good thirty seconds before orchard fruits, wrapped in honey and mint, reclaim the stage. And here comes a sherry that leans more Amontillado, perhaps even Palo Cortado. With water: a merry dance of umami—fermented sauces, oyster, soy, malt extract, even a whiff of Viandox—and yes, kitchen sherry, though the proper kind. Mouth: a powerful surge of lemon, seawater, varnish, paraffin, chestnut honey and tobacco, intense but coherent. With water: it rounds out beautifully, becoming even more honeyed and unctuous, with roasted chestnuts and all manner of brothy warmth. One can’t help but think of those outrageously flavourful Japanese instant noodles that cost next to nothing and deliver maximum joy. Finish: long, saline, resinous, waxy, and almost fermentary by the end, marvellous stuff. Comment: let’s hope the Shizuoka distillery, now home to one of Karuizawa’s stills, one day manages to reach these dizzying heights.
SGP: 462 - 94 points. |
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Karuizawa 1981/2011 'Vintage' (56.6%, OB, for LMDW, cask #7924)
After those early 1981s from the early 2000s, this was one of the very first bottles to begin securing Karuizawa’s place among the stars, before speculation sent values into full-blown orbit. 2011, incidentally, was the year Number One Drinks purchased the final three hundred casks. Colour: reddish amber. Nose: you’d be forgiven for guessing, blind, that this was a rather splendid old agricole rum, Neisson, perhaps. Highly floral to begin with—hibiscus, ylang-ylang—then comes a wave of very ripe bananas, and then, amusingly, a little cabbage soup and a touch of black truffle. With water: a character emerges that’s somewhat sulphury in the Mortlach style—a style that enjoys many devoted fans, me included, I should say. Mouth: that agricole vibe continues, joined by sandalwood, pink peppercorns, tamarind jam, prunes steeped in Armagnac and the faintest hint of wood varnish. Then out trots the walnut wine, dragging behind it a generous slab of salty liquorice, just the way our Scandinavian friends like it. With water: citrus steps in to restore order—bitter orange, marmalade, the full British breakfast spread. A bit of tannic grip begins to show too, with notes of heavily steeped black tea and bitter cocoa nibs. Finish: long, very dry, with more black tea, even more liquorice root, and a firm handshake from the oak. Comment: the wood is certainly assertive here, with a touch of astringency, but the whole remains utterly delightful.
SGP: 561 - 90 points. |
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Karuizawa 1981/2013 'Black Label' (60.3%, OB, 1st fill sherry cask, cask #6056, 348 bottles)
The 1981 vintage was bottled frequently and is perhaps the most recognisable of all Karuizawas. It offered an impressively wide range of aromas and flavours, largely dictated by the cask selection involved. Colour: dark amber. Nose: it opens in rather straightforward fashion—raisins, dates, maple syrup—before gradually shifting into more eccentric terrain, with fresh paint, almond milk, and a scattering of earthy, liquoricy touches. That said, it does feel somewhat locked up, most likely due to the hefty strength. With water: things spring to life—herbs, spices and terpene elements lead the charge, joined by beef jerky, teriyaki sauce and a fine shaving of cedarwood. Mouth: explosive and not a million miles from a punchy young bourbon, which is not entirely surprising given the nature of some ‘sherry monsters’ at full blast. Let’s not forget that the vast majority of sherry casks are in fact made from American oak. So we’re getting varnish, coconut, roasted peanuts, vanilla and nutmeg, quite the cocktail. With water: now come the resins, saps, saline strokes and just a hint of tar, rounding things out beautifully. Finish: long, slightly rustic, but let’s remember this magnificent Karuizawa was still a relative youth at thirty-one or thirty-two years of age. Comment: absolutely gorgeous, though one senses it still had a few more years in the tank if someone had let it sleep.
SGP: 562 - 91 points. |
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Karuizawa 31 yo 1981/2013 (56%, Noh Label, sherry butt, cask #155, 595 bottles)
Here we are again with those splendid Noh masks, which—let’s be honest—do have a tendency to terrify small children. Fortunately, they bear no resemblance whatsoever to the sentiments of those tasting this glorious series. Colour: amber. Nose: a sublime wisp of smoke, beeswax, fine cigars, furniture polish, putty, camphor, orange marmalade and fig liqueur. Fresher and more articulate than the previous dram, though in fairness there’s a considerable gap between 61% and 56% ABV. In short, a superlative nose. With water: no real change at this point, which is perfectly fine. Mouth: instant, irresistible pleasures—marmalade, yellow fruit jams, mirabelle plums, banana and quince. A palate that’s almost simple, even minimalist, verging on the Bauhaus. Admirable indeed. With water: now dangerously drinkable. Imagine a marriage of bitter orange liqueur and yellow Chartreuse, sipped atop a slice of quince paste just like grandma used to make. Finish: fairly long and an effortless continuation of the palate, the only shift being a gradual slide from Chartreuse towards a vintage Bénédictine. Comment: a magnificent bottle, and almost easy-drinking by Karuizawa standards. The smoke from the first nosing faded gently into the background.
SGP: 651 - 92 points. |
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Karuizawa 1981/2014 'Black Samurai' (63.4%, Number One Drinks for Specialty Drinks, sherry cask, cask #4943, 119 bottles)
The sibling to the extraordinary 1983 “Black Samurai”. The very dark colour suggests some serious extraction, and that lofty ABV—remarkable for a thirty-three-year-old—hints at a cask that has clung on for dear life. Colour: light mahogany. Nose: chocolate-dipped candied oranges take the reins immediately, allowing only fleeting whispers of herbal tea—chamomile, mint, orange blossom. It feels tight, but a dash of water should coax it open. With water: and indeed, it blossoms beautifully. More infusions—lime blossom, thyme—alongside touches of smoked ham and, quite possibly, some lovingly aged jamon iberico carved straight from the bone. Mouth: massive. Old Armagnac (Ténarèze style), kirsch, Black Forest gâteau, rolling tobacco, heavy liquorice, concentrated peppermint oil—the full artillery. With water: mint chocolate now takes centre stage, chased by an old-school cough syrup that oddly completes the picture. Finish: long, drier now, with lingering dark chocolate and mint. The kirsch makes a stylish encore in the aftertaste. Comment: one might almost mistake this for a venerable Ténarèze in a blind tasting—not inattentiveness, simply testament to the sheer breadth and depth of this astonishing dram.
SGP: 571 - 93 points. |
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Karuizawa 35 yo 1981/2016 'Eight Headed Dragon' (54.4%, OB, sherry, cask #171, 530 bottles)
It’s probably about time we acknowledged just how wonderfully these Karuizawas serve as a panoramic journey through Japanese art and culture—woodblock prints, ink wash painting, theatre, the Edo period, mythology... and now we’re face to face with Yamata no Orochi, the legendary eight-headed serpent, who seems poised to unsettle us. Fortunately, the whisky should restore balance. Colour: dark gold. Nose: rather discreet on the sherry front, and all the purer for it—a beautifully clean profile that almost suggests a bourbon cask, with a seamless weave of citrus, mango, olive oil, mint and fir honey. So perfect it’s almost dull—almost. Just joking, of course. With water: mint tea with pine nuts wafts in, alongside a few fresh walnuts, presumably courtesy of the sherry cask finally stretching its legs. Mouth: an amusing start of white chocolate and acacia honey, swiftly overtaken by resinous wood, southern olive oil and oolong tea. Sublime balance, and frankly, confiscatory in the sense that it robs you of any desire to criticise. There’s nothing to critique anyway. With water: now veering into the style of an old Speysider matured in a third or fourth-fill sherry cask. Strong echoes of that extraordinary 85-year-old Glenlivet from Gordon & MacPhail we were recently lucky enough to taste. Finish: fairly long, thoroughly classic, on warm apple tart drizzled with honey and a dusting of cinnamon. The mint tea lingers softly in the aftertaste. Comment: perhaps one of the most “Scottish” Karuizawas in character, and therefore one of the least exotic—though no less legendary.
SGP: 551 - 94 points. |
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Karuizawa 35 yo 1981/2016 'Snow Scenes The Tale of Genji' (57.2%, OB, sherry cask, cask #7427, 208 bottles)
A very rare release for Taiwan, where the malt whisky culture is arguably among the most developed anywhere in the world. This same cask was also bottled under the “Geisha Label” (162 bottles), the liquid almost certainly being identical. Colour: amber. Nose: dominated at first by milk chocolate and a certain well-known hazelnut spread of Italian origin that we shall tactfully avoid naming. Beneath that, a composite chorus of cooked ham, new rubber, lemon marmalade, grapeseed oil, leeks and black truffle. A faint sulphurous thread too, but one that seems rooted in the distillate rather than the wood. With water: not a world of change, though there’s a bit of mutton suet, ski wax and paraffin lamp oil sneaking in. Mouth: again that fatty texture, paraffinic and slightly sulphury, in a style reminiscent of some of the great distilleries from Scotland’s west coast—Ben Nevis, Springbank—rather glorious, actually. Saline edges, a touch of hydrocarbon, grapefruit... With water: personality in spades, with an incoming tide of maritime notes, somewhere between oysters and whelks. Finish: long, oily, and perfectly poised between rich salinity and perky citrus, which lifts the whole and adds a sense of cheerful dynamism. Comment: the polar opposite of the Eight-Headed Dragon, and yet I’d place them on exactly the same exalted tier—within a single point, if you will.
SGP: 562 - 94 points. |
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Karuizawa 39 yo 1974/2013 'Vintage' (57.2%, OB, Number One Drinks, ex-sherry, cask #6409, 169 bottles)
After the 1980s, we now find ourselves among the rarer vintages still. Incidentally, there are whispers of several Japanese companies attempting to revive the Karuizawa name, with a scattering of new distilleries springing up at the foot of Mount Asama. But definitive information remains elusive, as many of these projects have a tendency to remain just that—projects. Colour: coppery bronze. Nose: baskets of windfall fruit—mirabelles, apples, pears—all mingling with the scent of damp earth after the season’s first summer rainfall. Dates and figs arrive in time but never overwhelm; there’s no aromatic traffic jam here. Complexity is wonderful, but only up to a point. With water: suddenly we’re in the realm of great old Sauternes from truly majestic vintages. For a wine lover, this is borderline surreal. Mouth: far tauter than the previous expressions, with unexpected flashes of lemon verbena, absinthe, lime, fir honey and green walnut. At nearly forty years of age, it’s nothing short of spectacular. With water: the citrus tension dazzles—utterly brilliant. Finish: not the longest, perhaps, but finding Corsican cédrat in a very old Japanese malt is an experience that borders on the sublime. Comment: the idea of a “grand cru” in whisky may be a touch fanciful, and I gladly plead guilty here, but this 1974 is unquestionably one of the finest grands crus whisky has to offer.
SGP: 661 - 95 points. |
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Karuizawa 1972/2011 'Vintage' (63.3%, OB, Number One Drinks, sherry butt, cask #7038, 523 bottles)
1972 was an exceptional year in Scotland, though we’ve yet to pin down exactly why. Was it better wood? A whisky loch effect? A bumper barley crop in 1971? Or are we just imagining things? At any rate, we’ve only previously tasted one Karuizawa from this vintage, the splendid cask #7290. Colour: gold. Nose: the resins are back—fresh putty, quince, oil paint, linseed oil—plus wee mangos and, quite astonishingly, wild strawberries. Totally unexpected, yet unmistakably present. Astoundingly fresh. With water: sauna oil, teak oil, a tiny drop of turpentine—pure cabinetmaker’s workshop. Mouth: we’re now in dangerous territory, the sort that throws your whole system of appreciation and scoring into question. Sheer beauty. Bushels of oranges and mandarins, saline touches, whirlpools of herbs and berries—both garden-grown and foraged—and even, believe it or not, the tiniest nod of black garlic. With water: it retreats a little, but that’s no fault, what emerges now is simply a beautifully poised, very old-style sherry. Finish: fairly long, more chocolaty now, with tobacco and coffee stepping in—back into classic territory. Comment: we really thought it might rise to the level of the incredible 1974. A quick reminder that the Jacksonian scoring scale we've always used is generally four to five points lower than Robert Parker’s—so a 93 here is roughly a 98/100 in 'RP terms'.
SGP: 661 - 93 points. |
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Karuizawa 1970/2012 'Vintage' (64.5%, OB, Number One Drinks, ex-sherry cask 450 litres, cask #6177, 312 bottles)
One of those casks from which earlier bottlings were drawn at the distillery, which is reminiscent of how some Armagnacs or Cognacs are handled. As a result, several versions of this cask exist at different strengths and ages, though they’ve now become vanishingly rare. Colour: dark gold. Nose: we’re once again meandering through the realm of great rums, somewhere between Jamaica and Guadeloupe, before a wave of Corinth raisins and what is clearly old Pedro Ximénez takes over, bringing its full parade of dried fruits: dates, figs, goji berries, golden sultanas... Then a hint of cedarwood, sandalwood, and a handful of Mozartkugeln, chocolate-coated marzipan balls that, indeed, seem to hum a little Mozart of their own. With water: fresh putty and even a dab of neoprene glue lend it a wonderfully down-to-earth, almost proletarian charm. Mouth: still quite brutal, even after twelve or thirteen years in glass. The alcohol kicks, alongside kirsch and all manner of rustic fruit eau-de-vie. Water feels more like a recommendation than a suggestion. With water: everything relaxes and rounds out, the dried fruits reclaim their seats, and a soft spoonful of multifloral honey adds another layer of charm. Finish: fairly long, rounded, nearly sweet, honeyed and awash in raisins. Comment: perhaps not quite as transcendental as some of its brethren, but the standard remains extraordinarily high.
SGP: 651 - 90 points. |
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Karuizawa 42 yo 1969/2012 'Vintage' (61.3%, OB, Number One Drinks, ex-bourbon cask, cask #8183, 400 litres)
The return of bourbon casks and the move into the previous decade: two milestones well worth celebrating. Especially as, believe it or not, we’d never tasted a Karuizawa 1969 before today, so we are now charting what is, for us, nearly terra incognita. Colour: deep yellow gold. Nose: that bourbon gives the distillate a far greater voice than sherry ever could is an obvious truth, reconfirmed here in majestic fashion. Lemons, clementines, cider apples, beeswax candles, marzipan, orgeat, facial cream (for ladies or gents), a faint maritime touch—seaweed, even... now where on earth did that seaweed come from? With water: beeswax takes over entirely, bringing with it pollen and honey, plus the scent of old books and furniture polish, waxed mahogany and leather spines. Mouth: splendid. If I may, I’ll invoke Highland Park again—I’ve done so already above, so let’s not pretend otherwise. A magnificent herbal and saline edge that grows steadily, alongside grapefruit and lemon peel. The palate is tauter, more vertical than the nose, but no less enthralling. With water: I’ll say no more, this shall remain between this magical Karuizawa and your humble servant. Finish: no comment. Comment: no comment.
SGP: 562 - 94 points. |
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Karuizawa 50 yo 1965/2016 'Japonism Edition' (62.4%, OB, LMDW 60th Anniversary, ex-bourbon and sherry, casks #8636 and #2372, 60 bottles)
We had previously tasted both the ex-bourbon and the ex-sherry versions in their time, but never this final assemblage of the two, a blend that seems to bring a distinctly Champagne-like philosophy to bear on the exercise. Needless to say, we approach such a bottle with the reverence and solemnity it rightly commands. Colour: gold. Nose: not the first time a spirit of such age reminds us that truly great old spirits tend to converge, provided the quality is there. What I mean is that this little marvel in our glass could just as easily be an ancient rum, a venerable Cognac, an old Armagnac, a noble Calvados or even a museum-grade Tequila—or indeed any permutation thereof. What speaks loudest here is time itself, not the original ingredients, whether barley, agave, sugarcane, apple or oak. In short, we’re greeted by all the great honeys of the world and a kaleidoscope of citrus fruits in every conceivable shape, size and origin. With water: it now evokes those wondrous old Sauternes that have quietly shed much of their residual sugar. Mouth: scarcely believable: eucalyptus, honeys, dried fruits, oranges, and a staggering freshness that belies the half-century on the clock. With water: everything arrives—fresh and dried fruits, waxes, embrocations, varnish, tobacco, and even, dare one say it, a few humble cleaning products—natural ones, of course. Finish: old rum meets old Cognac meets ancient malt whisky, in sublime harmony. Comment: rereading my original notes on the two casks that formed the basis of this rather mad blend, I have the strong sense that their union raised them both even higher. In other words, what we were never quite taught at school—that 1 + 1 can sometimes equal 3—was entirely correct in this rare case.
SGP: 652 - 96 points. |
Worth noting, this rather special session wouldn’t have been possible without the invaluable help of the very talented teams at La Maison du Whisky and the Golden Promise in Paris. A first version, in French, should have appeared in Whisky Magazine & Fine Spirits a few weeks ago—naturally, the scores haven’t been altered since. I’ll add that his very unusual session, here on WF, was a direct translation from French to ‘English’ and therefore, no doubt quite different from the very basic, bargain-basement style we usually use here. Please forgive us. |
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| Oh, and just between us, I warmly suggest you dip into, or better yet, subscribe to Whisky Magazine & Fine Spirits. It’s brimming with first-class original content, including some real treasures by the fabulously talented and very graceful Christine Lambert. And if French isn’t your forte, well, no more excuses, as our dear old friend Google, n’est-ce pas, is getting uncannily good at translating these days. Santé! |
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December 30, 2025 |
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A few Laphroaigs on this penultimate day of the year
In response to Angus’s brilliant post on 27 December. Mind you, no Williamsons or other ‘Secret Islays’ today. We’ll start with the new official 12-year-old, and then see where the winds of our reasoning take us…
The working kiln, hell or heaven? (WF Archive, 2015) |
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Laphroaig 12 yo (46%, OB, American oak barrels, travel retail, 2025)
This baby is supposed to be, I quote, the ‘well-travelled one’ from the famed distillery, is that to say they’ve sent these casks off on ships to sail the seven seas, or something of the sort? Colour: white wine. Nose: well, there’s what the colour wouldn’t have led us to suspect: notes of fresh wood, especially ginger, and faint touches of coconut, but the rest keeps the Laphroaig DNA intact, that camphory, peaty side, with overripe apple, but then there’s the arrival of paprika and that’s clearly the cask. Smoked paprika, if you please (indeed, it does exist) … Mouth: the smoke in its rawest, most elemental state, austere, close to charcoal, then smoked paprika again, ripe apple, and a rather surprising touch of pineapple, which one knows can come from the casks. What’s really toned down compared to more classic Laphroaigs, like the ‘regular’ 10 or the CS, are the coastal and medicinal elements, which seem to have been somewhat erased. But it’s still very good. Finish: fairly long, with unexpected notes of exotic fruit liqueurs and syrups. Comments: it’s fairly simple but I find it good, different, surprising. Of course, the 46% is most welcome.
SGP:645 - 85 points. |
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Leapfrog 13 yo 2011/2025 (54.4%, Murray McDavid, Benchmark, bourbon barrels, casks #85290+91+92, 687 bottles)
I know, it’s a kind of secret Laphroaig, but let’s be honest, Leapfrog is Laphroaig, and the name has even become cult since its first edition back in the early 2000s and the epic legal battle that came with it, if I remember well. Colour: pale white wine. Nose: completely offbeat, starting on an old alcohol burner, then cooked asparagus, pizza dough, grilled aubergines, charcoal, and then more and more maritime elements—seaweed, oysters, clams, periwinkles (though perhaps not the periwinkles). Finally, fresh virgin wool, the whole thing becoming rather magnificent and very ‘Islay’. With water: it’s as if we’ve shoved our head inside an old fireplace—thankfully extinguished. Some paint as well. Mouth (neat): firmly in official 10yo CS territory, which is of course very good news. Very taut, salty, lemony and coastal, with that classic iodine tincture and mercurochrome note fully present. With water: the lemon makes a discreet appearance, the rest is textbook stuff: kippers, lemon, ashes and so on. Finish: same story. Comments: we really enjoy this very rustic profile; you’re truly transported to the island. Right, you may now take your head out of the fireplace…
SGP:357 - 88 points. |
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Laphroaig 11 yo 2014/2025 (57.5%, The Single Malts of Scotland for LMDW Itinéraires, refill hogshead, cask #1414000224, 359 bottles)
Colour: white wine. Nose: rather hot, with a faint touch of cologne at first, a little hairspray too, then it leans back into the familiar Laphroaig aromas, seaweed and bandages, plus banana and vanilla, and of course, mercurochrome. Nothing to complain about here. With water: it refines, becomes almost narrow, but in the best possible way—Bauhaus-style, as we like to say. Mouth (neat): powerful, very close to the Leapfrog, although it opens right away on lemons and grapefruits, whether fresh or in liqueur form, then rolls out those salty, medicinal and maritime notes. Very classic. With water: once again it narrows, back to citrus and passion fruit. You might even think of a dry white Jurançon, so manseng. Excellent. Finish: long, pure, fruity. Comments: to tell the truth, we tasted this one with caviar last night, and that worked a treat.
SGP:657 - 89 points. |
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Laphroaig 13 yo 2011/2025 (57.4%, Hogshead Imports, Exclusive Release, refill barrel, 192 bottles)
Colour: white wine. Nose: disarmingly simple, on damp earth, wet ashes, mercurochrome, lime, smoked salmon, brine and white spirit. With water: lamp oil and a very young, almost clear Hampden-like Jamaican rum side. Mouth (neat): absolutely massive, brutal, ultra-smoky and hyper-salty. I don’t think one should dig too deep here without water. Hints of fresh pear eau-de-vie from the heart of the middle cut. With water: the Jamaican side returns and it works a treat. Heaps of ashes, tar, and probably a few slightly ‘chemical’ compounds (aren’t they all?) but ones we always love. Finish: very long, austere, very salty and still chock-full of ashes. Comments: now this one was extreme!
SGP:368 - 89 points. |
How about we compare it with an older one of pretty similar age? |
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Laphroaig 19 yo 1987/2006 (52.2%, Scotch Malt Whisky Society, #29.54, ‘Tulips in a coal cellar’)
Colour: white wine. Nose: you can tell it’s an older style, with lavender sweets, geraniums, nail varnish, cough syrup, dried fish… Let’s just say it’s ‘dirtier’, more ‘funky’, and less ‘clean line’ than the more modern versions we’ve just tasted. With water: a kiln-like note. That’s lovely… and a brand-new oversized woolly jumper. Mouth (neat): ah, this is excellent! Salty and peppery tension, lots of ashes, sardines, olives, samphire… With water: same again. A little clay, white pepper, and a faint hint of salted butter caramel. Finish: long, returning to its native ashes (what?), with a faint note of salty liquorice in the aftertaste. Comments: very different from the TSMOS/LMDW, yet on exactly the same level, to within a tenth of a point. Not that we do tenths of points, mind you…
SGP:556 - 89 points. |
Let’s move on to some older expressions, starting with an official bottling… |
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Laphroaig 33 yo ‘Donald Johnston’ (43.8%, OB, Strong Characters, sherry finish, 2024)
Wonderful early Soviet-style back label. Now giving a 33-year-old baby a finishing feels about as likely as spray-painting a Turner, but I’m sure they had their reasons. By the way, this Mr Donald Johnston (1810–1847), despite a very short life, was the founder of Laphroaig, along with his brother. Colour: gold. Nose: it’s gentle, it whispers, it chants, and it’s full of all sorts of seashells, rounded out with sauna oil and orgeat syrup, then old-fashioned embrocations and bygone medicinal syrups. Mouth: the light finishing was probably a clever move, beyond some slightly over-steeped teas and tisanes, there’s peach and passion fruit, then a faint touch of cigarette ash. Finish: not very long but the tannins are clearly there, though the structure has remained firm. Comments: a delicate and slightly fragile old thing, but entirely charming, like an old musical instrument. A clavichord?
SGP:455 - 89 points. |
I must confess, we are going round in circles a bit with these scores… but hey, at least we’re consistent… |
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Laphroaig 31 yo 1993/2025 (42.4%, C. Dully Selection, hogshead, cask #6793, 197 bottles)
Colour: gold. Nose: here we are, back in the incredibly well-balanced style of the official 30-year-old, for instance, with that mosaic of little things that come together: ashes, cigarettes, peaches, grapefruit, pink banana, charcoal, anchovy, mint, camphor, eucalyptus, bandages, oysters, fresh mastic, paint, almond oil, mango… If all that holds together on the palate, we’re onto a proper little winner… Mouth: oh yes, perfect, simply perfect. Wet ashes with lemon, pink and grey pepper, pink grapefruit, soft green olives, oysters, seawater, camphor syrup, menthol and tobacco, passion fruit, lime… A proper family daiquiri, this. Finish: curiously long, very balanced, fresh and almost refreshing, though you’re left with salty ashes on the tongue right at the end. Comments: what more is there to say, other than that it’s dangerously drinkable—and don’t they make this in magnums?
SGP:566 - 91 points. |
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Laphroaig 34 yo 1991/2025 (48.3%, WhiskyLand, Decadent Drinks, refill hogshead, 182 bottles)
Very fine label, very Dada—fans of Picabia should love it. And what’s more, it’s splendidly anti-AI-slop, a cause we’ll surely need to champion in the coming years if we go by some of today’s labels, the kind that could bring a tear to a brick that just won the lottery. And here we have an old Laphroaig selected by Laphroaig fans… Colour: straw. Nose: same territory as the previous one, though a little drier. A touch more medicinal and mineral, and a touch less fruity in return. Oh, and that whiff of fresh paint, Picabia would have approved of that as well. Mouth: I do apologise for not being able to redevelop entirely new comments here, but we’re so close to the last one that if you accidentally swapped the glasses around on the table, you’d no longer know which was which. Are you with me? Magnificent Laphroaig in any case, with perhaps a slightly more resinous streak. Finish: same again. Magnificent salty finale. That salinity is quite remarkable, very manzanilla-like. Comments: once again, one of those situations where we’d need a magnum of each to even try to tell them apart. What beasts!
SGP:566 - 91 points. |
Time for the final curtain, with one last dram at a slightly higher strength… |
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Laphroaig 32 yo 1992/2024 (52.7%, Quaich Bar, Singapore Exclusive, The Islay Giants, cask #3845, 283 bottles)
Colour: white wine. Nose: fresher, more ‘Caol Ila’ if you see what I mean, with notes of crab meat with citrus, sushi, green apple, dill, and even horseradish. Astonishing freshness at this age. With water: gorgeous tar and fresh rubber joining the ensemble. Mouth (neat): ultra-precise, almost binary—bitter almond and smoke with lemon zest. Water should, again, work wonders. With water: we’re into lapsang souchong and miso soup. Some of the incisive freshness of the last two or three is a bit lost, but we’re still clearly at the top end of the basket. Finish: long, dry, salty and ashy. Comments: magnificent, one for serving with shellfish, I’d say.
SGP:466 - 90 points. |
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December 29, 2025 |
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The Time Warp Sessions,
today old young Convalmore versus a recent old Convalmore |
After the Glenlochy bottlings from a few days ago, here are two Convalmores, also from the DCL/SMD stable. I can never overstate just how much of a joy it is to still be able to taste whiskies from distilleries that closed in the early 1980s, and even more so to have in our little tulip glasses expressions we’d never had the chance to taste before. |
A few quick words about Convalmore: you’ll recall that its capacity was doubled in 1964, before being mothballed in 1985. The site was purchased in 1990 by William Grant & Sons for use as warehouses, as it’s located right next to the Balvenie and Glenfiddich distilleries. Enthusiasts now consider Convalmore malt to have been on a par with today’s most celebrated names. I should add that we’ll be starting with a 14-year-old, so a rare opportunity to taste this malt in its near-youth.
(Christopher Gillan) |
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Convalmore 14 yo 1981 (61%, The Whisky Connoisseur, cask #1150, +/-1995) 
It wasn’t often that this venerable series used the distillery’s actual name, rather than some fanciful alias. But not all of them were ‘Largiemeanoch’-level, if you see what I mean… Colour: very pale white wine. Nose: imagine a blend of olive brine, wet chalk, freshly mown grass, tiny wild apples or medlars, and the driest and most acidic of white wines, which we shall refrain from naming out of Christian decency. The cask was no doubt a lazy bastard. With water: not the slightest change, even brought down to around 45% vol. It doesn’t shift an inch – must be its Vladimir Vladimirovich side. Mouth (neat): that barley eau-de-vie character at first, then massive dollops of concentrated lemon juice, wheatgrass juice (very fashionable in 1980s juice bars), and once again a good dose of chalk. Also a faint hint of tourist-grade pisco. With water: the bitterness comes to the fore, a touch of something chemical, very rustic pulque, and just a little sugar syrup that manages to soften things ever so slightly. Finish: rather long, sweet and bitter, aromatically basic. Comments: I think we’ll bump it up a touch, since it’s Convalmore and the market for this rare bottle is no doubt sitting at… zero. But we were jolly pleased to have tasted it.
SGP:471 - 80 points. |
Well, the first one was a wee bit of a flop, this should be a piece of cake for the next one... |
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Convalmore 39 yo 1984/2024 (51.1%, Gordon & MacPhail, The Recollection Series #3, refill sherry hogshead, cask #1733, 108 bottles)
We were rather smitten with the Glenlochy from the same series, and the North Port was jolly good too. I must admit that after the young Convalmore 1981, we approach this one with a little more caution – but then again, it is G&M… Colour: mahogany. Nose: I may be about to utter a heresy but so be it, here goes: this baby feels more ‘G&M’ than ‘Convalmore’. Indeed we’re in the territory of their grand old Mortlachs, Glen Grants or Glenlivets – or perhaps rather Linkwood - provided it had been matured in active sherry cask, even if we’re only talking refill here. A lovely bitterness on the nose, green walnuts, last-century family-armagnac, cooked mushrooms, pipe tobacco, walnut stain, pine resin, a faint whiff of lacquer or even Chinese ink… All this layered over prunes and discreet Corinth raisins. With water: aged pu-ehr tea makes an appearance, along with touches of molasses and ancient sweet wine, perhaps a venerable old PX from Montilla. In short, the rounder notes help to steady the barrage of bitterness that came at first. Mouth (neat): reminds us of a similarly aged Ténarèze, really. The brown tobacco comes surging back, along with walnuts, prunes, a little very old kirsch, a few drops of ancient Jägermeister, and then some bitter orange, citrus never having been absent from Convalmore, if memory serves. With water: almost like a genuine Armagnac, frankly, and it’s excellent. Gorgeous brown tobacco, splendid bitter chocolate, and deep black tea. Or rather, that first rinse of a grand old pu-ehr – the one you don’t normally drink, right. But here, you just let it happen… Especially as, once again, some peppered orange creeps in to balance out this magnificent ensemble, built upon equally magnificent oak. Finish: very long, superbly oaky, resinous and absolutely stuffed with tobacco and cocoa. Coffee rolls in on the aftertaste. Comments: I believe we’ve already written that old spirits tend to converge over the decade, and here’s yet more proof. Glorious!
SGP:461 - 92 points. |
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December 28, 2025 |
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A word of caution
Let me please remind you that my humble assessments of any spirits are done from the point of view of a malt whisky enthusiast who, what's more, is aboslutely not an expert in rum, brandy, tequila, vodka, gin or any other spirits. Thank you – and peace! |
It's Cognac Day! (A special selection)
In my family, as we’ve reminisced countless times, cognac was the quintessential digestif, a fixture of our Sundays and every festive gathering. And what better way to begin than with an apéritif to transport us back to those cherished days gone by?
(Print advertisement for Courvoisier, 1960s. The measures suggested by the brands bore little relation to the concept of moderation.) |
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Courvoisier ‘XO’ (40%, OB, +/-1985) 
There are many versions of Courvoisier XO, and the packaging has often changed, though the shape of the bottle has remained the same. Worth mentioning (perhaps), Courvoisier was acquired from Beam Suntory by Campari two years ago. Colour: dark amber. Nose: you get caramel first, then dark chocolate and pipe tobacco, with rather restrained fruitiness at first, though that does emerge later in the form of dried raisins. In short, a very traditional nose. Mouth: this is good, no doubt about that, more complex than the nose, though the caramel and raisin duo rather swiftly takes over your palate and seizes the reins. It lacks the purity and brightness of those older, independent cognacs we now cherish. Finish: long, leaning a little towards coffee liqueur, with those same raisins and caramel still hanging about. Comments: note that this is an old bottle, certainly not representative of the brand’s current production. Still, it’s very decent...
SGP:631 - 78 points. |
Right, the apéritif is done. Now, I suggest we taste a selection of cognacs at random, rather than going through a vertical tasting as we almost always do... |
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Borderies ‘Lot #78’ (44.5%, Spirit of the Day #7, 186 bottles, +/-2025)
A fine house and a fine cru—that’s more than enough, there’s hardly any need to know the estate… (well, almost) … Colour: deep gold. Nose: this glorious mix of poached peaches in Sauternes and honey, with fresh mint and dried meats, marches boldly into the realm of the great malts. What we’d call a true malternative, at least for now. Mouth: I simply adore this, it’s both young and old, direct yet intricate, rich yet refined… The stewed fruits are splendid, and those little notes of camphorated mint and liquorice add further dimension. There’s also a cooked, almost genuine Catalan rancio character here, though it stops short of becoming heady or suffocating, despite clear notes of coffee liqueur. Finish: long, with even a slight molasses edge, neatly cut by a touch of blood orange. Comments: what’s more, it retains that faintly rustic edge typical of Borderies. This is magnificent.
SGP:651 - 92 points. |
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La Fût-sée ‘Lot 91’ (49.2%, WV Baker & Cie, Bons bois, +/-2025)
What a playful label! The whole thing—name included—gives off a delightfully good-natured, if slightly cheeky, vibe. Colour: gold. Nose: this one’s more on the earthy and herbal side, very much in line with the character of most ‘bois’, leaning towards fruit skins (melons, peaches) and moderately aromatic flowers. Ultimately though, it’s the ripe apple that calls the shots. Mouth: superb freshness, lively and almost muscat-like, with notes of aromatic grape varieties—gewurz, viognier—the whole thing offset by candied sugar and oranges, then wrapped in a sweet curry paste with a fair bit of pepper and a pinch of ginger. Slightly off the beaten track perhaps, but I find it really lovely—and above all, dangerously drinkable. Finish: long, more peppery, more herbal too, which brings it all back into fine balance. Comments: a truly great Bons bois, for connoisseurs and everyone else (which makes no sense, S.)
SGP:661 - 90 points. |
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French Brandy 30 yo 1993 (40.3%, Casa de Vinos for Flower Drum 50th Anniversary)
On the one hand, it’s labelled ‘French Brandy’, which is never terribly reassuring, but on the other, we learn it was distilled in the Charente, which does provide a measure of comfort. No doubt a case of shaky appellation paperwork, and so on and so forth. And what’s more, it’s for Australia, so all’s well. Colour: coffee. Nose: to be perfectly honest, there’s something a bit Jerez brandy-like about it (isn’t there?) though the soul is unmistakably from Cognac, with stewed peaches and apricots in red wine, plus juicy sultanas. But it’s the palate that will have the final word… Mouth: sin in a bottle, with peaches, mint, and heaps of dark chocolate that bring out a rather drying, even bitter edge—in the best possible way. There’s also a lovely earthy, almost tarry side to it. Finish: long, bitter, chocolatey, minty, with a dash of oregano. Comments: certainly no classic Cognac, but its woody eccentricities give it real charm—you just need to listen. A spirit psychotherapist, now that would be a fine profession.
SGP:462 - 88 points. |
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Cognac Hors d’Âge (47.8%, Decadent Drams, Fine champagne, 116 bottles)
A blend of cognacs from the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s, so clearly there’s a bit of a Keith Richards side to this one. Colour: amber. Nose: not a million miles from the Australian, though this is noticeably fresher and fruitier. I rather suspect these multi-vintage blends tend to sacrifice a touch of aromatic precision on the nose, but in return they bring greater complexity to the palate—let’s see if that theory holds water… Mouth: not so sure about my theory now, we probably won’t be picking up the Nobel Prize in spirits this year. In truth, it remains fairly compact, with notes of honey, orange, and a little caramel mingled with chocolate, all underpinned by the trademark poached peach in sweet wine. Finish: fairly long, a tad more on the woody side, with fir needles, tobacco, and mint chocolate. Comments: just very, very good.
SGP:551 - 88 points. |
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François Peyrot ‘Lot 62 Heritage’ (44.5%, OB for Passion for Whisky, cask #147, 120 bottles)
This is a 1962 that was never transferred to demijohn, so a true 62 or 63-year-old. Colour: full gold. Nose: stunning softness, simplicity, compactness and poise, somewhere between stewed peach, milk chocolate, verbena, heather honey and the tiniest sliver of grilled bacon, which adds a subtle extra layer. Remarkable freshness at such a venerable age—though it’s the same with humans, isn’t it. Mouth: almost liqueur-like in sweetness, though kept in check by citrus notes. Rather surprising, it’s a kind of balance one usually finds more in rum. Think drops of Cointreau, Grand-Marnier… Finish: good length, very rounded, very soft, still firmly on liqueurs. Curious hints of fern in the aftertaste, and something reminiscent of very old Ararat (that Armenian brandy from Pernod Ricard). Comments: extremely, extremely hard to score.
SGP:740 - 86 points. |
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Jean-Luc Pasquet ‘Lot 85’ (50.36%, Distilia, the Virtues, selected by Rob Bauer, Petite champagne, 168 bottles, 2025)
Rob Bauer—that’s rather like having Ruf on a Porsche (or Brabus on a Mercedes), and that’s hardly a bad endorsement. The Virtue here is Kindness, rarer these days than a blue diamond. Colour: full gold. Nose: classic JL Pasquet, with that distinctive, assertive yet poised and elegant fruitiness, joined by damp earth, a touch of mushroom, roasted coffee, and a sprig of fresh mint. Water should help bring this into line… With water: it’s as if you've just opened a box of fifty assorted chocolates from a top chocolatier in Paris or Brussels. Incredible. Mouth (neat): much more powerful than the strength might suggest, and frankly, even at just 50.36% (and yes, that .36 does seem to matter), water is politely requested. With water: think milk chocolate with passion fruit, or dark chocolate with mint cream, if that appeals. Finish: long, with the faintest hint of menthol and resin right at the end. Muscaty notes in the aftertaste. Comments: this one ought to please absolutely everyone and might even bring about world peace—assuming there's enough to go round.
SGP:651 - 90 points. |
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Daniel Bouju ’41-51 yo’ (52.1%, C. Dully Selection, batch 5, Grande champagne, 2025)
Not entirely sure what this is, but what we do know is that it’s from the Maisons Bouju and Dully, and frankly, that’s enough. In fact, it’s a blend of casks from 1974 and 1984. Colour: mahogany. Nose: textbook Bouju—oak-forward, resinous, dense, rich, almost overwhelming but in the best possible way. Buckets of pipe tobacco, blackstrap molasses, and small-batch coffee liqueur… With water: fir branches, rain-soaked moss and slippery boletes. Mouth (neat): still rich and concentrated, yet showing real elegance and lift, carried by a vivid passion fruit note that’s so pronounced you almost wonder if a few weren’t cheekily slipped into the cask. Not that we’d suggest such a thing (well, maybe just a little). With water: not much change, really, it’s more of a peaceful skirmish between resin and maracuja. Finish: similar story, just a touch woodier, earthier, and even peppery. Blackcurrant and blackberry jam in the aftertaste. Comments: what a beast. Excellent, of course, but not always easy to follow. Still very much up on the rooftop of the category, if you see what I mean.
SGP:571 - 89 points. |
Here, let’s try something a bit different to finish, we’ll go back to an ancient bottle… |
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Leyrat ‘Domaine de chez Maillard Napoléon’ (42%, OB, Fine cognac, +/-1980) 
Colour: bronze gold. Nose: pretty enough, rather earthy and herbal, though lacking real depth. Clearly not a nose-driven cognac, that much is obvious. Mouth: decent, quite salty and earthy, moderately bitter, but fragile overall and struggling badly when set beside those splendid new independents. Finish: medium in length, fairly bitter, a bit greasy, and frankly dispensable. Comments: well, we gave it a go—this is clearly not a high-flying cognac. Quite possibly some baddish OBE too. That said, Maison Leyrat does enjoy a solid reputation, as far as I can tell. One day we’ll try some of their more recent bottlings, though alas, there are still only 365 days in a year… And 52 Sundays.
SGP:651 - 59 points. |
Right, that last one wasn’t the best idea — we can all agree on that — but as the year draws to a close, it does help put things into perspective. It also highlights the fact that scores between 85 and 89, at least on WF, are actually extremely high. |
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December 27, 2025 |
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Angus's Corner
From our correspondent and
skilled taster Angus MacRaild in Scotland
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Continuing adventures with Laphroaig
I have no doubt that this is the case with other distilleries, but it seems that Laphroaig lovers tend to ‘find’ one another; arguably one of the few remaining good things about the internet? Thanks almost entirely to the generosity of fellow Laphroaig aficionados, who share with me samples of the incredible bottles they open out of sheer goodwill and camaraderie, it’s time once again for another high-flying Laphroaig session. |
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Laphroaig is a whisky that seems ever popular to knock and hold up as an example of how a once great name has fallen by the wayside - even among people who I suspect aren’t so familiar with some of the truly legendary older bottlings that helped cement the hallowed reputation of this make. If you were fortunate enough to be around when it was much easier to sample some of these old official 10-year-olds, the old 30yo, or the old G&M and Cadenhead bottlings, and to make yourself familiar with Laphroaig’s 1960s and 70s distillate profile, it’s understandable that you would find some of the contemporary examples challenging. |
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I do agree that the quality of Laphroaig is not at the pinnacle it attained in the 1960s and earlier decades, but then very few distillates in history have reached those heights and I don’t think it’s useful to judge everything that came after by those same standards - the Paul McCartney of malt whisky you might say. The point I’m getting at is, I still like Laphroaig a lot. I still find it a compelling whisky and a name I’m always intrigued to revisit.
Like all passionate aficionados for a historic brand, I have my cherished frustrations and numerous axes to grind with the owners and what they do. Why must Laphroaig 10yo be 40%? |
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The answer is, boringly, that when you’re working at the scale of thousands of cases of a global market product, single percentage points of alcohol really do make a difference to unit economics. But also, why the relentless, wretched and utterly vulgar pursuit of stuff like Four Oak, Select, PX Cask, Triple Wood; bludgeoning a beautiful distillate around the head with stave after stave and nuance-obliterating vanillin and tannin. The answer, once again rather boringly, I’m sure, is that these are not really aimed at me. In a bustling and competitive market, single malt brands have to do ‘stuff’ and keep putting things out to grab new attention, new customers and new sales. And most of the folk wandering through that soulless void of existential anguish called travel retail, aren’t looking for Bonfanti import, rotation 1976. Anyway, I don’t like it and I wish they’d just accept it is time to put me in charge of the distillery and branding for the next decade and be done with it. (AKA: how to go into administration before you can say ‘brewer’s yeast’). |
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I suspect that someone from Beam might counter my whingeing by pointing out that they’ve done a lot of tinkering with the distillate since they acquired the distillery and are genuinely intent on returning a degree of exotic fruitiness to Laphroaig’s character (jury’s still out on that one). They’d also say: “The NAS oak bombs clearly aren’t for you, try the 10yo and the cask strength and the 18yo - and also please buy several cases of our 30yo, thank you very much.” To which I’d begrudgingly accept that I find the 18 yo very impressive and that the 10yo, even today, remains one of the more fascinating and - that word again - compelling core expressions to follow. |
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It’s not that I find it consistently excellent, it’s that I find it distinctive. It’s one of the few whiskies I can muster a half decent attempt at picking blind. Despite everything the modern whisky world has thrown at Laphroaig Distillery in terms of production and business changes over the decades, the humble 10yo remains a characterful and idiosyncratic whisky. It’s the whisky I’m most likely to order in a pub and it is in those circumstances - loud, busy, bustling, warm, slurped from an ungainly tumbler - that it cuts through with greatest clarity and you understand what the bottling is really for. |
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Like I say, I’ve no shortage of frustrations, but like with whisky more generally, my relationship with Laphroaig is far too emotionally complicated to just give in fully to jadedness and pessimism. I love to hate it sometimes, but I love to love it more.
But seriously, what the fuck is up with those Willem Dafoe adverts? |
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Laphroaig 10 yo (40%, OB, 2024) 
I know this bottle is from 2024, because I bought it in the supermarket last Christmas and then forgot about it, until now… Colour: gold (still some caramel deployed no doubt). Nose: hey, Bonfanti rotation 76! I’m kidding. But it is fruitier than some other recent batches to my mind, some pineapple in syrup, some mango chunks, then damp hessian and cooling wort. Behind that a, softer than usual I would say, waft of TCP and iodine. I have to say, this generally softer and fruitier profile is really great. Mouth: a more typical modern arrival, with a little more weight towards the vanilla, the oak spice, but still balanced well enough by banana chips, some wood smoke and peat, some lanolin and camphor and then a bit of pine wood and wet rope. It feels less peaty overall than recent years, but at the same time the palate is still a tad too driven by the wood influence for my taste. In time those underlying DNA building blocks of peat smoke, iodine and seawater come through. Finish: medium, some charming herbal peat smoke and smoked teas, camphor, pine resin and cedar. Comments: same as usual 40% etc, blah blah blah. However, I really enjoyed the nose on this particular occasion, it felt surprisingly fruity for a change, whereas the palate a little more in line with what you would expect from present era 10yo. As ever, contradictions, frustrations and fascinations in equal measure. Pour one dram in a copita to nose, and one larger measure in a tumbler to sip. Last time I properly recoded notes was in 2016 and back then it was WF84, I think we can go one notch higher today thanks to that lovely nose…
SGP: 566 - 85 points. |
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Laphroaig 'Laudable' 15 yo 1985/2000 (50%, Douglas Laing Old Malt Cask, 318 bottles)
Colour: white wine. Nose: wet shoreline, samphire in salty butter, warm tar, old hessian and rope, then getting a tad more medicinal with some decisive notes of mercurochrome and bandages. There’s also a softer side in time, with some fragrant notes of white flowers, smoky mash water and smoked teas. With water: seawater, smoked olive oil and bandages - easy! Mouth: lovely, easy arrival, full of organic, drying peat smoke, wood ashes, crushed seashells, seawater, tar and mineral salts. Suggestive nods towards more classical Laphroaig ‘stuff’ such as TCP and iodine, but it’s relatively restrained with some softer notes of lemon juice and sheep wool. With water: saltier, slightly more austere, more lemon juice, more rocks, pebbles, seawater and ashes. Finish: long, bone dry and very salty in the finish. Comments: not the most ‘obvious’ of vintages for Laphroaig (sadly!), but a charming variation on a theme. Seems like these mid-80s vintages lacked some of the fruitiness that existed in the years either side.
SGP: 366 - 86 points. |
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Laphroaig 1983/1999 (43%, MacKillop’s Choice, Moon Import, cask #1711) 
Colour: pale white wine. Nose: it’s funny how you retreat ever so slightly to the earlier 1980s and the fruits begin to emerge in Laphroaig. This one is all about lemons, oranges, grapefruit and tiny exotic inclusions. Also a lot of soft seashore impressions, such as crushed seashells, pebbles, white flowers and freshly shucked oysters full of seawater. Mouth: here the peat arrives a little more assertively, with sooty coal smoke notes, tiny hints of germoline, lemon curd, seawater and grapefruit. Finish: good length, slightly sweeter peat smoke, some lemon juice, seawater, wood ashes, green peppercorn in brine and miso. Comments: probably as delicate and elegant as Laphroaig can be, also an interesting example captured on the cusp of the distillate losing its fruitiness I would suggest.
SGP: 566 - 88 points. |
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Laphroaig 1989/2002 (47%, OB for the retirement of Iain Henderson, 24 bottles)
Colour: pale gold. Nose: typical late 80s / early 90s profile, with these soft green and exotic fruits balanced equally alongside dry coal and peat smoke notes. It feels like they have taken aim at a higher ABV, more natural version of the 15-year-old. Very elegant and with a feeling of sophistication. Mouth: a tad simpler, somewhere between the 10 and 15yo of the time, with a few notches more oomph. I find it less medicinal, more towards lemon rind, seawater and soft peat smoke notes. Perhaps a little camphor and cedar wood too, then these familiar smoked tea notes. Finish: medium length, thicker peat flavours coming through now and some more classical TCP and iodine notes. Comments: at times a tad simplistic, but overall it’s pretty natural, emblematic of the distillate and very easy to quaff. A humble and charming wee Laphroaig. With only 24 bottles having been produced, it’s a pleasure to tick this one off!
SGP: 457 - 87 points. |
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We will have some more of these ‘technical aperitifs’, although we’ll be at cask strength for the next few. Normally you’d save these for the end of a session, but where older Laphroaig is concerned, the usual rules do not necessarily apply I would say. |
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Laphroaig 21 yo 1995 (59.0%, Scotch Malt Whisky Society 29.196 ‘A Mermaid’s Tale’, refill barrel, 192 bottles)
Thinking about my colleague on the SMWS Tasting Panel, Robin Laing, who very sadly and suddenly passed away recently. He always came up with the wittiest and most amusing bottle notes and titles. Here’s to you Robin! Colour: bright straw. Nose: rich, dense, sweet peat smoke, combined with citrus curds, smoked marmalade, preserved lemon, mango salsa and tiger balm. An immediate and potent reminder of just what terrific distillate Laphroaig is. More of these beautifully soft, fragrant and slightly herbal peat smoke notes, with gentle seawater and crystallised exotic fruits. With water: coal smoke, beautiful flecks of citrus, brine, capers in olive oil and an increasingly lovely salinity. Mouth: ashier, full of seawater, mineral salts, beach pebbles, crushed seashells, squid ink and fresh razor clams. Superbly coastal and even fishy in a good way. Some kelp, pure kiln smoke and bonfire ember impressions. With water: becomes very pure, direct and precise, dominated by seawater, lemon juice, briny notes, crisp peat smoke and a wonderfully dry, coastal profile. Finish: long, lemony, ashy, peaty, mineral and sharp. Comments: terrific stuff. The nose was tip top and the palate merely excellent. Superbly sharp and salty Laphroaig.
SGP: 466 - 88 points. |
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Laphroaig 19 yo 1987/2006 (52.2%, Scotch Malt Whisky Society 29.54 ‘Tulips in a coal cellar’, refill barrel, 261 bottles) 
Colour: white wine. Nose: coal cellars indeed, with these big impressions of soot hearths, scuttles and coal smoke. Also lanolin, burlap sack, hessian bung cloth, camphor and lamp oil. Goes on with lemon juice, paraffin, waxes, tiger balm, mercurochrome, iodine and wet plaster. The lemony notes become sharper and more pronounced, along with a surprising minty note too. With water: lemongrass, seaweed and pickled ginger. Some beach pebbles and white miso paste too. Mouth: great arrival, soft, thick peat smoke, peppery notes, camphor and dried herbs, with lemon cordial, more coal smoke, waxes and camphor once again. Really superb texture that married waxiness with gentle oiliness and still leaves room for many refreshing coastal qualities. A great benchmark for everything that was good about late 1980s Laphroaig. With water: gathers a little more fruitiness now, involving pink grapefruit, lime juice, tiny hints of pineapple and some cider apple. Finish: long, richly peaty, back on classical stuff like TCP, bandages, seawater, capers and brine. Comments: Laphroaig is not only about fruits, this one is really terrific.
SGP: 467 - 90 points. |
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Laphroaig 12 yo 1984/1996 (59.9%, Cadenhead ‘Authentic Collection’)
Colour: pale white wine. Nose: feels like a higher octane, more intense version of the DL 1985. It’s more about purity, power and precision here, a lot of petrol and mineral notes, pure seawater, malt vinegar, cider apple and oily sheep wool. With water: seawater, smoked olive oil and lemon juice in close harmony. Mouth: petrol, indeed. Purity to the point of simplicity, but it’s still terrific distillate so you can’t really argue too much. Lemon juice, plaster, oysters, fish sauce, some tar and raw, grizzly peat smoke. With water: really a powerful Laphroaig, extremely rugged, farmy, peaty, tarry and fat! With a lot of hessian, camphor, wool and plaster notes. Finish: long, drying, oily, salty, tarry, some dry roast peanuts of all things, and an encroaching umami / Maggi vibe. Comments: a bit of a beast, but hard to resist its charms.
SGP: 467 - 88 points. |
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Now, a break, then time to get serious… |
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Laphroaig 10 yo (43%, OB, Hiram Walker US import ‘B182’, -/+ 1995)
The Royal Warrant on the label would place this post-1994. Colour: gold. Nose: funny, it makes me think of a slightly sweeter version of the 1985 we started this session with, which would make sense as the casks in this vatting are probably from around that era. It’s a softer profile 10, without an immediate or obvious fruitiness. Instead, soft peat smoke, a slight farmyard note, some seawater, grapefruit, crushed nettle, gooseberry acidity and a slightly muddy peat aroma that emerges with time. Low key Laphroaig! Mouth: a more decisive profile in the mouth! The arrival displays good fatness and body, a thicker peat profile that’s both medicinal and peppery, with smoked teas, iodine, camphor and mineral oil. A glimmer of exotic fruit teas in the background. Finish: good length, slightly sooty, some smoked olive oil, lanolin, camphor, those exotic fruit tea impressions once again in the aftertaste. Comments: glimmers of fruit peeping through, but it’s more about a ‘lost weekend’ era for Laphroaig if you will. Not necessarily bad, just a bit on the softer, more unusual and muddled side. Now, this is still excellent!
SGP: 466 - 88 points. |
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Laphroaig 10 yo (43%, OB, Hiram Walker US import, 75cl, -/+ 1990)
A slightly earlier batch. Colour: gold. Nose: we have struck fruit! Amazing how the fruitiness of Laphroaig bursts through from this point going back. Dried exotic fruits, some crystallised honey, smoked olive oil, strop leather, mineral oil, cedar wood, gorse flower and soft coastal notes such as beach pebbles and coastal flowers. That’s the funny thing about Laphroaig, it’s big whisky, but it can be extremely gentle and subtle sometimes. Mouth: a finely struck balance between gentle, dry peat smoke, pure and subtle coastal complexities (rock pools, sand, pebbles, dried seaweed etc) and dried out and crystallised exotic fruits, that also go towards smoked and exotic fruit teas eventually. Finish: medium, with some impressions of charred pineapple and mango chunks, peat embers and very soft notes of bandages and TCP. Comments: we’re entering familiar and deeply comforting territory. Utterly deadly glugging juice of the highest calibre!
SGP: 666 - 90 points. |
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Laphroaig 10 yo (45% / 90 US proof, OB, Regal Brands US import, 750ml, late 1980s)
Usually the leap to 45% heralds great things during this era… Colour: gold. Nose: hard to pin down what it is, but it’s irrefutably another level up. More fruity, more honeyed, more waxy, more concentrated and peatier, but in a way that comes across as almost syrupy and textural. Maybe it’s just the extra alcohol helping to carry that sense of weight. In the background many similar impressions of smoked and exotic fruit teas, herbal cough medicines and gentle impressions of TCP, iodine, camphor and seashore freshness. Mouth: yes! Amazing, fat and dense peat smoke, combined with many medicinal inclusions - bandages, gauze, antiseptic, iodine etc - then all sorts of roots, herbs and resinous pine wood. You feel the depth and levels of quality and character skyrocketing as you go back in time with these official 10s. Here it’s the overall fatness and texture of the whisky that is so striking and impressive. Finish: long, glowing with dry peat embers, natural tar extracts, pepper, crystallised exotic fruits and honeys and some kind of cask aged mead! Comments: we now officially have to be hyper vigilant for Maltoporn from here on out…
SGP: 567 - 92 points. |
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Laphroaig 10 yo (90 US proof, OB, Regal Brands US import, 750ml, rotation 1988)
This should be bottled very slightly earlier than the previous one. Colour: pale gold. Nose: it’s true, we’re really close to the previous one, but this is perhaps slightly drier and slightly more tilted towards classical Laphroaig exotic fruitiness. In fact, with a little time, it really starts to deliver passion fruit, mango, guava and this more specific, highly detailed fruit profile. The peat is a little more dialled back here and it’s probably a tad more coastal and fresh too. Some lemon rind, seawater, mineral salts on the go etc. Mouth: that extra ABV remains every bit as impressive, and that same feeling of density and texture come through loud and clear. As on the nose though, I’d say this one remains fruitier, drier, more coastal and a little more chiselled and precise. Citrus, exotic and green fruits doing beautiful things on the palate. Finish: very long, pure, dry, a brittle peat smoke, with many subtle tropical notes into the aftertaste. Comments: very hard to pick between these two Regal Laphroaigs. The fruitiness here is utterly gorgeous, but with the previous one the sheer whack of thick, luscious peat was similarly wonderful. I think we’ll just play it safe and call it a draw.
SGP: 656 - 92 points. |
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Laphroaig 10 yo (45%, OB, Buckingham Wile US import, 750ml, rotation 1989)
We’ve already tried quite a few variations of these Buckingham Wile imports at 45% and they never fail to be less than totally dazzling in my experience. Colour: deep gold. Nose: this feels like we’re going up a notch again in terms of thickness and weight. Maybe a higher component of sherry casks in the mix? Either way, the result is altogether rootier, earthier, fatter, more densely peaty, more peppery, a more enigmatic medicinal profile that starts to recall very old herbal liqueurs, old Claquesin tar liqueur, salted liquorice and cigar humidor. All this is draped in the most gorgeous, jellied exotic fruit medley. Utterly deadly stuff! Mouth: same story. Richly peaty, but more peppery, fatter, waxier, broader, drier and earthier. An overall more organic and umami profile, full of resinous, salty and herbal qualities. Even impressions of honey-roast vegetables and brined capers. Once again, these exotic fruit qualities are ever-present, but it’s hard to write a tasting note without compartmentalising them off to one side. Finish: wonderfully long, honeyed, crystallised, fruity, richly peaty and peppery with more of these very old school medicinal and ointment impressions. Comments: you do get the feeling there was a higher component of sherry in this one, this is something we’ve observed before with Buckingham Wile imports.
SGP: 666 - 93 points. |
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Laphroaig 10 yo ‘Unblended’ (90 US proof, OB, Julius Wile US import, 750ml / 25.4 fl oz, screw cap, -/+ 1980)
There seems to be multiple notes for this one already on WF, mostly by me unsurprisingly. Given the way individual bottles tend to go off in their own directions after decades, it seems daft not to try this one as it’s from a different bottle. Yes, that should do. Colour: deep orangey gold. Nose: we’ll try to keep this brief. Pure 1960s, sherried Laphroaig. An exquisite interplay of dry, fat peat smoke, tar, dried tropical fruits, rare teas, medicinal roots and all manner of tertiary umami, tobacco and salty notes. Mouth: you really go up many astonishing levels when you hit these 1960s distilled batches. Comfortingly incredible whisky that so effortlessly juggles the influence of peat, fruit, salinity and sherry to mesmeric levels. Enough said. Finish: extremely long, rugged, salty, earthy and complex - bewildering really. Comments: I try to let myself forget about these whiskies sometimes, so that the impact of trying them each time feels as powerful and profound as possible. Anyone serious about wanting to understand what is possible in terms of quality with regards malt whisky making should try to taste at least one example of old Laphroaig like this. I couldn’t tell you if this was a different batch to the various ones I’ve tasted previously, but I find this one distinctly peatier than previous versions I recall.
SGP: 657 - 94 points. |
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Laphroaig 10 yo ‘Islay Malt Scotch Whisky’ (No ABV stated, OB, -/+ 1970)
No abv statement was unusual, even at this time period, likely an export market bottling that perhaps lost a sticker with that info on somewhere along the way… Colour: pale gold. Nose: holy featherless Capercaillie! One of the most pure and extraordinarily fruity noses I can recall. Brings immediately to mind Bowmore 1955 (the wee ceramic jug and the later 40yo). A pure expression of passion fruit, guava, papaya and mango, but also as you spend more time nosing, comes star fruit, kumquat and jasmine tea. I am sure there’s some peat in there, but the nose is just totally and utterly dominated by tropical fruit. Some further nosing time reveals heather honey, waxes, dried heather flowers, ancient herbal and honey-led liqueurs. Eventually a little peat smoke along with some very delicate herbal and fruit teas. An utterly spellbinding and mind-expanding nose. Mouth: from a whole galaxy of fruit, we pivot to a gentle but decisive sledgehammer of thick, astonishing complex, drying peat smoke. Full of herbs, roots, dried flowers, ancient medicinal aspects, salt-infused, crystallised honey, gentian, mineral oil, liquorice - gah, it becomes utterly impossible to keep up. I was really fearing the palate could not compete with such a nose, but really it’s like a whisky of two perfect halves: the nose handles the fruit and the palate takes care of the peat. I never tried a whisky like this. Emotional and sublime in a way that makes you want to both laugh giddily and shed a tear. Finish: extremely long, glowing with incredible old style peat flavours, sublime tropical fruits encroach back in amongst everything once again. I am not really sure what to say, I don’t think I ever tasted a whisky quite like this. Comments: a poetic, utterly devastating whisky with a wicked sense of humour. What is the story behind this flavour profile? What combination of things in production and in bottle have led to this? Like all the most amazing whiskies, this raises more questions than it answers. With many such bottles nowadays you expect brilliance by reputation or certain other known qualities, that’s where you end up with 94-96 point drams. Whiskies which take the lead and utterly dominate proceedings. But very, very occasionally, you find something which totally confounds you, catches you off guard and goes to levels that you were neither prepared for nor thought possible. That’s the case here with this ridiculous, beautiful, humble old Laph 10.
SGP: 856 - 97 points. |
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Tim, KC and Yan: you have all unlocked eternal hugs and profound gratitude. |
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December 26, 2025 |
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A Festive Glenlochy duo, official vs indie. |
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Glenlochy was, at one time, part of Joe Hobbs’s group of distilleries, as you know he was the renowned owner of Ben Nevis and Glenury, Benromach, Bruichladdich, Fettercairn and Hillside (BTW, soon some Hilliside on WF!) Allow me to share, once more, a link to the incredible book by our friend Tim Smith, Not Your Average Joe:
I warmly recommend it! Now then, let’s head off to the West Coast… |
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Glenlochy 25 yo 1969/1996 (62.08%, OB, Rare Malts, USA)
In truth, this incredible and rather austere series by United Distillers became virtually cult from its very first releases in 1995, but lasted barely a decade until the arrival of newer, more ‘packaged’ and commercially polished series, such as the Annual Releases, Special Releases or indeed Prima & Ultima. Today, the most sought-after of the Rare Malts are either the finest (and many are superb) or those representing the only official opportunities to taste long-lost distilleries. Just like this one, Glenlochy, the other star of Fort William, sadly closed in 1983 like so many others. Colour: pale gold. Nose: it starts straight off on lemon balm water, green melon and freshly-mown grass, with a rather formidable austerity, almost frightening in nature. Very little development without water; perhaps just a whiff of cider apple, gooseberries-for-mackerel and clay. Austere like a charmingly old-fashioned librarian who chose to remain single, quite deliberately of course. With water: not a chance, it actually retreats further into clay and slate, although you do find a few touches of citrus peel and maybe a bit of underripe kiwi or white peach. I must add, we’re rather fond of this sort of stern elegance. Mouth (neat): maximum tension here, all on home-made limoncello aged in an earthenware jar, along with some herbs. It does rather slice you in half, to be honest… With water: and there we are, it finally opens up, on a monumental garden fruit salad drenched in honey and… malt whisky. The terracotta still lingers, by the way, it reminds me of those rare terracotta wine glasses some eccentric enthusiasts insist on using, never cleaned with anything other than pure water. Finish: long, more rustic, herbaceous, more on fruit peelings, though a bit of mango does make a slightly late appearance. Some pear as well. Comments: typical of those refill cask versions, very much on the distillate, and now starting to show a lovely touch of OBE, provided the corks haven’t disintegrated over time. Do keep an eye on fill levels!
SGP:461 - 90 points. |
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Glenlochy 44 yo 1979/2024 (53.2%, Gordon & MacPhail, The Recollection Series #3, refill American oak hogshead, cask #3312, 124 bottles)
Indeed Glenlochy was often a sublime malt and it’s quite remarkable that Gordon & MacPhail have issued such a recent bottling. Colour: gold with bronze hues. Nose: the kinship with the Rare Malt is quite clear despite the age gap, and even at forty-four years old, it has retained that austere, mineral edge that evokes once again clay, limestone and slate, atop a bed of white and green fruits, little pears, apples, natural white wine, whitecurrants… It’s sheer beauty, if you’re paying close attention! With water: vineyard peach returns in force, softening everything quite wonderfully. Mouth (neat): it arrives at full gallop, beyond the yellow fruits, very camphory on one side, with as much eucalyptus and pine bud as you’d find in a Corsican forest, the effect rounded off by lemons and citrons, also presumably from Corsica. Spot on. With water: once again, fresh fruits take over, citrus leads the charge, and that mineral tension remains. Once again we’re practically in grand dry white wine territory now, perhaps even Andalusian if you fancy. Finish: long and magnificent, still on that mineral fruitiness – or fruity minerality – endlessly fascinating. Comments: not the slightest fatigue in this grand white wi… I mean this grand malt from the west coast. Incidentally, it’s known that Hobbs installed concrete washbacks at Ben Nevis, after having found the idea at some Californian winemakers, so one does wonder if he didn’t do the same at Glenlochy. Spot on.
SGP:561 - 91 points. |
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December 25, 2025 |
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A Brora quartet for our Christmas |
It is, after all, fairly traditional on Whiskyfun to taste Brora around the festive period. True, nothing particularly new has reached us lately, but are there any new Broras at all? Still, we are some way from having tasted everything that has appeared since the late 1980s, starting with the very first of them all, the 1976 #61.1 from the Scotch Malt Whisky Society, released in 1989, which probably played a seminal role, as it was rather magnificent (WF 93).
Anyway, there are four Broras on the table today, none of them yet tasted on WF, and all from rather late in the short life of Brora v.1 (1969–1983). For purely scientific reasons, we shall taste them in order of increasing strength, if you don’t mind… |
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Brora 21 yo 1982/2003 (46%, First Cask, Direct Wines Ltd., cask #281, 276 bottles)
First Cask was the range of whiskies from Direct Wines, one of the pioneers of direct and distance wine selling in the United Kingdom. We had this baby during the small Brora and Clynelish tasting that I had the honour of hosting at the Whisky Show in London this year. The cask number suggests a Signatory origin. Colour: very pale white wine. Nose: the typical sharpness of Brora, even in these vintages, when the cask was only mildly active. Slightly smoky cider, sake, wet limestone, touches of mandarin peel and bread dough. Little peat and therefore a rather obvious Clynelish side, reinforced by the citrus fruits. Mouth: magnificent mineral fatness, several kinds of lemons and almost wild apples, and that austere side that suits Brora so well. A fairly marked herbal side but counterbalanced by those famous mandarins that are also found in abundance in Clynelish from the same period. Finish: fairly long but a little folded in on grass, fresh bread and white pepper. Comments: a Brora for Brora fans. If you are not one, simply remove five points.
SGP:562 - 90 points. |
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Brora 30 yo 1981/2012 (50%, Chieftain’s, Ian Macleod, butt, cask #1525, 553 bottles)
Ian Macleod had a good number of casks from these 1981 vintages with fairly consecutive numbers. It must be said that these vintages had rather been eclipsed by those from the early 1970s, but with hindsight, perhaps we had been a little harsh… Colour: full gold. Nose: of course this is marked by sherry, but even in 1981 Brora was still a full-bodied malt and balance has therefore been found here, at least it seems so for the moment. It strikes me as very notable to find, for example at this time of year, generous notes of fresh panettone and nougat, accompanied by generous amounts of furniture polish and pollen. This is a firm but gentle Brora for the moment. With water: smoked earth, humus, mushrooms… Mouth (neat): excellent, livelier than the nose, more lemony, which combines well with the sherry’s walnuts. Then come the zests and walnut liqueur, as well as a saline touch. With water: salt, pepper and smoked meats, but in small quantities. Very good. Finish: fairly long, waxy, peppery, maritime and always on walnut. Comments: I have not checked but this is perhaps the best, or in any case my favourite among these 1981 Chieftain’s. The distillate/sherry balance is perfect.
SGP:562 - 91 points. |
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Brora 18 yo 1983/2001 (52.9%, Signatory Vintage, Silent Stills, cask #40, 294 bottles)
We had ‘of course’ already tasted it, but we had never published a tasting note here. It was time! I remind you that this series was delivered with, in addition to the bottle, a miniature of the same whisky and a piece of the cask. I have already heard it said that some of these miniatures were worth more on the collectors’ market than a whole bottle, but I have never checked. In any case, many of these 1983s, therefore from the very last months of activity at Brora, were absolutely superb. A bit of a farewell tour, but since then, as you know, the distillery has started singing again. Colour: white wine. Nose: one finds a little of the First Cask profile but with more fatness, more minerality and even some tar, with here as well a small Bronelish or Clynera side (whichever you prefer). In other words, an abundance of wax, grapefruit, ashes… It is perfect. With water: you would certainly be forgiven if, blind, you spontaneously declared that this was Clynelish. Mouth (neat): my God how it has progressed since our first note, which nevertheless dated from its release, in 2001. Perfect fatty tension, very oily, with plenty of mastic, chalk and lemon in perfect symbiosis. It is also really very Clynelish, even Old Clynelish. I know, I am labouring the point. With water: excellent, always on the same combination and even some olive oil. Finish: mandarin comes to sign all this off, leaving us with a joyful and festive impression. Comments: I do not know whether at the time they guessed that the distillery would remain closed for almost forty years. It seems to me that reopening and revival projects had been devised fairly quickly, but without success.
SGP:652 - 92 points. |
I think this last Brora neatly illustrates the crucial importance of line-ups and points of comparison, and why I find it almost impossible to assess a spirit properly without precisely those points of reference and a sound grasp of the scales involved, if you see what I mean. This 1983 simply cannot behave in the same way after a 1981 as it does after a 1972, for example. But let’s move on… |
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Brora 18 yo 1981/1999 (58.3%, Scotch Malt Whisky Society, #61.9, 305 bottles)
I say it again, the SMWS had been the first entity, independent or official, to bottle Brora, followed by Gordon and their incredible 1972s, then there was Cadenhead and the very impressive first Rare Malts 1972 from United Distillers in 1995 which, it is said, instantly killed six dozen whisky lovers upon release (be careful with that kind of joke, S.). Colour: pale gold. Nose: we find a more austere version, more on mineral oil, cut grass, green banana skin, mastic… I think it really needs water. With water: tight, austere, acrid, but pleasing on a philosophical level. Little change on the aromatic side. Mouth (neat): brutal, almost violent, harsh, very herbal, with that impression of biting into a bitter orange without even having peeled it (double punishment). With water: it is better now, citrus fruits come to the rescue, but it is still not easy. A medicinal and very peppery side, barely balanced by lime. Finish: long, still herbal, waxy, medicinal, lemony. In the aftertaste, you are almost chewing fir needles. That part works well, it is Christmas after all. Comments: it is of course a very, very good whisky, but in your glass, this is really not a piece of cake. But it is Brora.
SGP:372 - 86 points. |
(Thanks, Angus and Billy) |
Wait, here's a small extra that probably has nothing whatsoever to do with Brora… |
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A Good Old-Fashioned Christmas Whisky 16 yo 2009/2025 (55%, The Whisky Exchange, Highland single malt, 1st fill oloroso sherry butts, casks #31+32, 1,367 bottles)
For once, we are not late, though it was a close-run thing. Colour: dark reddish mahogany. Nose: at first one could almost believe it’s kirsch matured in new European oak, such is the abundance of almond, varnish and preserved, candied cherries steeped in… kirsch, only later do the dates, Corinth raisins, coffee, chocolate and pipe tobacco burst forth, along with little bits of dried beef, jerky-style. With water: small mentholated touches appear, along with fir sap, very classical. Mouth (neat): massive, powerful, still ultra-kirschy, with also a small touch of very old, highly concentrated balsamic vinegar. With water: this time there is almost a young rye side, Willett-style. Finish: very long but balanced, admittedly rich, yet elegant. Comments: this is very, very good and very ‘Christmas’ indeed, of course I wondered whether it could be Clynelish, but the impact of the casks is such that it is impossible to say, the only thing that is certain is that this is not some very peated Highland. Merry Christmas.
SGP:661 - 88 points. |
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December 24, 2025 |
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A bouquet of Macallan for this Christmas Eve |
Macallan for the festive season, could there be anything more traditional, perhaps even conservative? But at WF, Macallan remains one of the blue chips, despite a rather unrestrained marketing approach that doesn’t quite match up, in our humble opinion, with its absolutely massive production capacity: thirty-six stills giving fifteen million litres of pure alcohol per annum. You might say that reconciling the apparent contradiction between such large-scale production and a hyper-premium brand positioning has already been achieved by other names – Dom Pérignon, Rolex, and perhaps even Porsche come to mind.
And for us, after all, what really matters is what’s in the glass, so here’s to Macallan! In any case, we’ll be tasting both new expressions and older ones too, for a bit of perspective, wouldn’t you say… |
(Macallan/The Ned) |
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Macallan 'A Night on Earth the First Light’ (43%, OB, 2025)
‘Scotland’ had been really very good (WF 85) but ‘Jerez’ rather underwhelmed to our taste (WF 79). That said, it’s still quite the high-wire act to offer a NAS bottling at €120, isn’t it. Colour: pale gold. Nose: very close to barley, beeswax, fresh wood, biscuits and Earl Grey tea, with a faintly camphory edge that’s most charming. Mouth: this is good, fairly spicy, rather fresh, with apples and lemons, green tea, lemongrass and a fair bit of resinous wood. Finish: rather long, on clove-studded orange marmalade and a few drops of retsina (that’s Greek white wine with pine resin, in case you’re wondering). Comments: I like it a great deal, quite a resinous and spicy little Macallan all things considered, Tarantino would probably call it ‘Chartreuse Macallan’.
SGP:461 - 86 points. |
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Speyside 15 (M) 2009/2025 ‘Small Batch Edition #18’ (48.2%, Signatory Vintage, 1st fill and refill oloroso sherry butts)
Colour: gold. Nose: more forthright and direct, slightly varnishy, burnt walnut cake, toast, roasted peanuts, candy sugar and pipe tobacco. On the nose, it’s as good as proper bread. Mouth: textbook stuff, classic to a fault, with a dry sherry profile full of walnut and tobacco, heaps of toffee and spiced marmalade, some Basler Läckerli, aniseed bredala from the Middle Alsace, and a touch of slightly acidic coffee... Finish: long and still excellent, now showing more pepper, clove, and old-style Dutch genever... Comments: this is rather amusing, the IB plays it classic, while the OB went off to explore other frontiers. In the end, both are very good to our taste.
SGP:561 - 86 points. |
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Macallan 20 yo 2004/2025 ‘Speymalt’ (58.9%, Gordon & MacPhail for La Maison du Whisky, 1st fill sherry hogshead, cask #22606607, 330 bottles)
Colour: gold. Nose: halt, oranges crossing the road! This is magnificent, just a touch powerful without water, but it’s almost all things orange (liqueurs, cakes, jams and the like). You’ll say we’re fond of oranges and you’d be right. With water: orange-flavoured bredala, absolutely splendid. Perhaps not terribly Scottish, I grant you, but splendid, nonetheless. Mouth (neat): utterly gorgeous, and yes, those oranges again, including green ones, along with spiced combinations that transport you far and wide, India, North Africa, Indonesia… Nasi goreng, anyone? With water: a return to a more classical Macallan (figs, tobacco) though the spices keep a firm hand on the tiller, thankfully, as they’re glorious spices. Finish: long, with a slightly spiced espresso character. Comments: a splendid bottling, brimming with action and insane elegance.
SGP:651 - 90 points. |
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Macallan 23 yo 2001/2025 ‘Speymalt’ (58.3%, Gordon & MacPhail for La Maison du Whisky, 1st fill sherry hogshead, cask #23602102, 340 bottles)
Colour: full gold. Nose: this is more opulent than the 2004, broader even, with baked apples and pears, yellow flowers, honey biscuits, milk chocolate with orange zest, and all sorts of things that could make you gain weight merely by mentioning them. In short, it’s opulent. With water: not much change, except those providential oranges are now even more prominent. Mouth (neat): explosive, danger ahead! A proper orange-and-pepper bomb, and in my humble opinion, it’s wise to add water subito presto. With water: careful now, the water brings out green pepper, ginger and curry, so we’re into quasi-Cornelian dilemma territory. I believe I prefer it neat, though best to contact your insurer in advance, as though you were setting off for Everest. Or nearly. Finish: long, powerful, still somewhat ginger-led. Comments: it’s settled then, this is magnificent, but I prefer the 2004.
SGP:561 - 88 points. |
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The Dark Side of the ‘M’ 20 yo 2005/2025 (61.1%, La Maison du Whisky, The Dark Side of the Moon, Artist #15, 1st fill sherry butt, cask #44H, 331 bottles)
Ah, here it is, ‘M’, that’s Nick Mason! You’re with me, aren’t you? Colour: amber. Nose: we’re back to those slightly varnishy notes at first, followed by lightly burnt biscuits, kougelhopf and walnut cake. But at this strength, we’ll refrain from nosing too long, despite glorious whiffs of ancient Malmsey Madeira wafting through... With water: earthy walnut cake, old cigars, toffee and simply caramel. Mouth (neat): very good, yet far too strong for me. Frankly, it’ll strip your palate clean if you’re not careful, which makes it all the more treacherous since the overall profile is otherwise rather approachable. A proper trap! With water: there we are, we’ve got it, rum and raisins, orange liqueur, lemongrass... Gradually it tightens up and retreats into lemon. And we do adore lemon. Finish: long, livelier, almost challenging. Comments: if you think drinking a whisky means opening a bottle, pouring a few centilitres and knocking them back without further ceremony, move along. This one takes work, you’ll need a good glass, good water, a good pipette... In short, it’s almost a malt in kit form.
SGP:561 - 89 points. |
Right, let’s move on to the older ones, starting with a legendary – though controversial – edition… |
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Macallan ‘Private Eye’ (40%, OB, 5,000 bottles, 1996)
Bottled for the 35th anniversary of the satirical magazine Private Eye. If you go online, you’ll be drowned in misinformation, with claims it’s from 1961 (it’s not, there’s only one cask from 1961 in the vatting, the rest is NAS) or that it’s 35 years old (it’s not, it’s NAS). The fact they bottled it at 40% vol. is rather alarming too, and the notion it’s one of the most collectible Macallans ever is… well, classic late-1990s early-2000s stuff. Still, it might be excellent, so let’s see… Colour: full gold. Nose: it is rather lovely, soft, honeyed, with those tobacco-and-honey notes typical of Macallan in those days, a whiff of old Yquem (yes!), and a charming mix of nuts—walnuts, hazelnuts, pecans, pumpkin seeds, macadamias—all lightly toasted. Hints of earth, mushrooms and more tobacco, so yes, definitely Macallan, though at 40% vol. the weaknesses will show on the palate. Mouth: well, even at 40% vol., it’s a very good Macallan and remains a very good whisky. There’s that honeyed tobacco again, biscuits, dried fruits, even Christmas cake and candied orange. It just tends to frustrate the palate slightly in mid-mouth, likely due to the low wattage. It’s a bit like acoustic Led Zeppelin, if you will. Finish: a little short, but clean, rather floral and slightly earthy. Lacks a bit of punch though. Surprising notes of white chocolate in the aftertaste. Comments: excellent of course, but whoever decided to bottle this lovely blend at 40% vol.—if they’re still with us—should be taken out at dawn and shot with marshmallows...
SGP:641 - 89 points. |
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Macallan 1961 (80° UK proof, Campbell Hope & King, Rinaldi Italy, sherry wood, 75 cl, +/-1976)
Haha, I think we’ve tasted every vintage from the 1950s and every vintage from the 1960s. Except 1961—such is life! Surely we must be approaching peak Macallanitude here… Colour: amber. Nose: incredible, immeasurable and mind-blowing. Jamon iberico, old pipe tobacco, currants, nectar of the gods (ambrosia), and a simple, rustic, modest caramel, prepared with exquisite care. I’ll spare you the whole retinue of dried fruits, figs and all the rest. Mouth: these fifteen-year-olds are among the world’s greatest whiskies, and it’s expressions like this that built the house of Macallan. You get the full explanatory suite here: honeys, dried fruits, tobaccos and waxes, all in a thrilling interplay. Not forgetting the proverbial rancio. Finish: fairly long, drier, more on tobacco and old amontillado. Slightly smoky (wood) in the aftertaste. Comments: the rumour—likely complete nonsense—is that CH&K used to top these up with brandy. But you know how rumours go...
SGP:652 - 94 points. |
How about we taste a really old one? Is this Whiskyfun or is it not Whiskyfun? (sorry if we sound as if we’re playing at being a bargain-bin YouTuber now ;-)) |
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Macallan 34 yo 1967/2002 (41.8%, Hart Brothers, Finest Collection)
Sweet, dear Hart Bros.! What a pleasure it is to revisit one of their prestige bottlings. Worth noting, the low ABV here still corresponds to cask strength, so we’re not in tisane territory just yet... Colour: white wine. Let’s call it Meursault premier cru. Nose: those impressions often found in the old Abe Rosenberg/Duncan Taylor casks—milk chocolate, flower nectar, beeswax, multifloral pollen, and very ripe (or bruised) apples… It’s magnificent on the nose, though you do wonder whether it’ll hold up on the palate... Mouth: well… yes! It wavers a little at first but, as so often, the heroic citrus molecules arrive to lift and tighten everything, giving just the right bite to those honey-coated dried fruits. The raisins too are playing their part marvellously, even if the whole remains ever so slightly fragile. Finish: milk chocolate turning into white chocolate, all in softness. Then a burst of citrus comes charging in the aftertaste, offering a welcome little kick. The finish has the final word (pure genius, that, S.!) Comments: touch and go at times, but like a talented tightrope walker, this old baby from Craigellachie always pulled through.
SGP:531 - 89 points. |
Go on then, one last dram for the road… |
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Aberlogie (Macallan) 20 yo 1973 (59.3%, Arthur J A Bell, The Whisky Connoisseur, sherry, cask #8138, +/-1993)
I’ve never quite understood why this venerable house, which gave us so many delights, used to invent names instead of simply using the distillery’s own, they either thought it was charming affectation or were required to do so, though at the time, I rather doubt it. Anyway, let’s try this very rare baby… Colour: gold. Nose: even after all these years, it still packs a punch, due to the very high strength. Let’s say a mix of triple sec and uncut pot still rum. The tinier molecules seem to be queuing at the gate, but Cerberus won’t let them in. Water will sort that. With water: probably not a dramatic unfolding, but it stays waxy, with stewed apple, custard, scones, and notes of old, outdated books... (like The Art of the Deal, paperback) ... Mouth (neat): reminds me of those Macallan ‘As We Get It’ bottlings, ring a bell? It’s brutal, rustic and stripping. For now... With water: ah, now this is lovely, on peach purée with a drizzle of honey. It’s turned gentle as a lamb. Finish: not very long once reduced, but now closer to barley, stewed apple and honey. Comments: I checked, ‘Aberlogie’ means nothing at all. Not a valley, not a loch, not some spring, nor even some vanished hamlet. But the whisky was very good, and funnily enough, it shares certain flavours already found in ‘The First Light’.
SGP:541 - 87 points. |
Nine Macallans, that’s perfect, we’ll have plenty more next year… |
(Many thanks once more, KC, and Merry Christmas) |
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December 23, 2025 |
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Little Duos, today Balvenie, official vs secret indie |
Because after all, we can’t decently let the year come to an end without enjoying a bit more Balvenie, can we? One of my favourite distilleries in its classic expressions, with notes reminiscent of plums and quinces… |
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Balvenie 12 yo 2012/2025 (47.2%, OB, A Collection of Curious Casks, European Oak Montilla Wine Seasoned, cask #18515)
Il would appear this was a full maturation in a cask seasoned with wine from Montilla-Moriles, though it’s not entirely clear what style of Montilla was involved—PX dulce, oloroso, amontillado, fino? … Colour: gold. Nose: it does seem to have been a sweet wine, there’s a slightly muscat-like note, or perhaps muscadelle in the Sauternes style (though that’s not found in Andalusia, I believe), and yet—almost miraculously—the Balvenie markers remain intact, notably mirabelle plums and quince (either paste or tart). In short, the cask and distillate aromas have remained fairly adjacent… Subtle, discreet touches of rose petals as well. Mouth: indeed, one could say this is Balvenie, lightly elevated, with fairly spicy European oak though never excessive, bringing notes of Christmas spices, mulled white wine, cinnamon… Beneath that, tiny bits of citrus zest and dried fig. Finish: medium in length, nicely balanced between fruit and some herbal infusions… of the festive sort. A touch of pepper in the aftertaste. Comments: lovely bottle.
SGP:651 - 85 points. |
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Speyside 29 yo 1988/2017 (49.7%, Le Gus’t, Selection XI, Blended Malt, hogshead, cask #403, 262 bottles)
Rumour has it this is Burnside, and thus Balvenie, and in that case it’s always worth checking whether there are other bottlings from these vintages, which indeed there are (late 1980s through to mid-1990s). This sort of thing usually comes from parcels of casks hitting the market via brokers or other intermediaries. In fact, we already tasted an excellent Burnside 1989/2025 from Le Gus’t earlier this year. Colour: gold. Nose: industrial levels of fir honey! Plus beeswax polish, actual beeswax, fresh mastic, Turkish delights, oriental pastries, mullein syrup, quince paste… All rather sublime. Mouth: the oak is more prominent here, and the fir honey has turned into fir buds, with all manner of herbal infusions, especially thyme and lime blossom. Citrus and mirabelle plums then step in to bring some balance, along with a hint of white chocolate and, fancy that, barley syrup. Finish: rather long, held up by the citrus which reins in the tannicity of the whole affair. Comments: magnificent bottle, shame we’re eight years late to the party. Yep, I am slightly embarrassed…
SGP:661 - 91 points. |
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December 22, 2025 |
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WF's Little Duos,
today North Port (Brechin) |
The North Port distillery, in Brechin in the Eastern Highlands, now almost forgotten, was also known as 'Brechin' indeed. This is why it is often referred to in books, guides and magazines as North Port (Brechin). Just a reminder: North Port (Brechin) Distillery was closed in 1983 and demolished in 1994.
Let’s taste these two North Port (Brechin) now, then… |
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(Brechin Memories) |
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North Port 19 yo 1970 ‘Very Rare’ (40%, Sestante, 75cl, +/-1989)
No mention of Brechin on this label. We’ve already tried this series in the 1974 vintage, while a 1970 by G&M (CC old map label) had been relatively austere and very herbal but rather nice. As for the one currently in our glass, it’s very likely of G&M origin. Colour: gold. Nose: very surprising and rather amusing, with notes of tinned sardines and chalk, then a little preserved lemon and some samphire to start with. After which it really shifts towards fresh concrete and old wood, with touches of passion fruit as well. A very fine nose, quite singular and not particularly affected, so far, by the low ABV. Mouth: the old wood and chalk are back, along with a kind of lemon-scented modelling clay and that faint whiff of damp plaster. It then becomes far more herbal and tauter, akin to a sauvignon blanc from a cold and rainy vintage. At 40%, the texture is fairly light, yet not without a certain charm. Finish: not that short, but even more on wet chalk and old white wine, still from a cold and rainy vintage. Some stock or bouillon in the aftertaste, probably from the OBE. Comments: it’s charming, old-fashioned, even touching, and really very good, though still a little austere and slightly fragile. But we like it.
SGP:351 - 85 points. |
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North Port 42 yo 1981/2024 (50.9%, Gordon & MacPhail, The Recollection Series #3, cask #2072, 132 bottles)
I find that G&M are managing their old stocks of rarities with great elegance, certainly seeking to showcase them, but doing so in a rather restrained manner. I must say, the last time I checked, there weren’t exactly any collectors clamouring for North Port. Sorry, North Port (Brechin). Right, this may well be the last recent North Port (Brechin) we’ll get to try here on WF… Colour: full gold. Nose: custard and banana, ripe apples, mirabelles, quinces, sponge cake, and perhaps not masses of personality when all is said and done. Still, it’s very pretty, just not especially distinctive. With water: the very ripe apples and farmhouse cider keep things together. Mouth (neat): it’s rather akin to a Speysider in the vein of Miltonduff, Glen Grant or Caperdonich from the same era, with a certain firmness that doesn’t come entirely from the cask, though perhaps without the spikier characteristics that would allow one to identify it straight away (a somewhat superfluous point, I admit). Bruised apples with honey. With water: very pretty, honeyed, marked by yellow fruits, apple, plums, pears… But I still don’t find much in the way of standout features, as they used to say in marketing before The Great Slip Down (the Internet, of course). Finish: medium, on baked apples with honey, plus a little cinnamon. Comments: what to say? First of all, hats off and thank you to G&M, but on the other hand, North Port (Brechin) was never Ardbeg, nor Clynelish, nor Springbank. Well then, our score shall be that of a slightly overenthusiastic archaeologist… To think it’s now a supermarket…
SGP:551 - 88 points. |
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December 21, 2025 |
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A word of caution
Let me please remind you that my humble assessments of any spirits are done from the point of view of a malt whisky enthusiast who, what's more, is aboslutely not an expert in rum, brandy, tequila, vodka, gin or any other spirits. Thank you – and peace! |
Six notable Ténarèze and quite a few Bas-Armagnacs
If, a few years ago, someone had told the old men of Gers and Landes that malt whisky enthusiasts would one day take a very serious interest in their old-fashioned eaux-de-vie, they would have had a good laugh, shrugging their shoulders, berets pushed back on their heads. And yet… |
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Domaine de Séailles 2001/2025 (51.8%, Swell de Spirits, Wild Card Series, Ténarèze, cask #69)
We’re slotting in this baby at the last minute, do forgive us. Please note that Domaine de Séailles and Domaine Séailles are one and the same. Also worth noting that we shall have a sister cask coming up next. Colour: deep amber. Nose: high-end Nescafé and roasted hazelnuts and walnuts, plus chestnut honey opening the path to baked fruits, mostly the usual peaches and apricots, whilst a rather tarry background begins to creep in as well, which we shall also find in the sister cask. With water: a few touches of incense, cedarwood, then fresh walnuts complete with their skins. Mouth (neat): bitter citrus zests and Italian bitters rule the roost at first, all very punchy and assertive, but once again the fruits come charging through behind, led by poached peaches. Loads of pepper too, and a definite note of walnut husk. With water: candied oranges and fresh walnuts, perhaps even green ones. Finish: long, rooty, with a great deal of liquorice wood. Comments: both casks are really very close in their no-compromise, almost trade unionist character.
SGP:562 - 88 points. |
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Domaine Séailles 23 yo 2001/2025 (53.4%, armagnac.de, Ténarèze, cask #70)
100% Ugni Blanc. They also make both red and white wine under the Côtes de Gascogne appellation, though I’ve yet to try any. A Séailles 2000/2021 had been very good in our opinion (WF 87). Colour: deep amber. Nose: light tar to start, rather typical, then quite a pronounced toastiness, toasted wood, roasted peanuts, pecans and proper local walnuts. Lovely power. With water: more towards green walnut, nocino… Mouth (neat): really very flavourful, with lovely bitters mingling with lemon and zests, and a clear thread of black pepper in the background. With water: the local walnuts take over entirely, joined by wee oranges and an unexpected saltiness. Finish: long, with very fine bitterness. Comments: certainly different, but this baby wouldn’t feel out of place in a tasting of top-drawer malts from sherry casks.
SGP:562 - 88 points. |
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Hontambère (Pouchégu) 25 yo 2000/2025 (55.6%, Hontambère for RAC Spirits, Ténarèze, cask #D10, 100 bottles)
Just a reminder that the legendary Domaine de Pouchégu no longer exists, so what we’re tasting here is a lost Ténarèze, courtesy of Hontambère. Colour: deep gold. Nose: gentler than the Séailles, less immediate but perhaps a little more refined, more herbaceous, more on melon skin, fresh figs, then Viennese coffee. It’s all very lovely, especially once the roasted peanuts—which we’re rather fond of at WF Towers—begin to show up. With water: retreats slightly into herbs, shrubs, and tiny berries… Mouth (neat): this one’s a touch creamier, yet the Ténarèze DNA remains intact, with a kind of rustic liveliness (shall we say) and candied, peppered citrus. The grassy side emerges next. With water: still very terroiry, to borrow a thoroughly untranslatable bit of French jargon. Finish: long, more on orange zest and honey. Comments: another excellent Ténarèze, and no question of choosing between them, unless we started using half-points or tenths, which we absolutely refuse to do. Excellent.
SGP:561 - 88 points. |
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Bas-Armagnac Colombard 34 yo 1991/2025 (58.9%, Landier & Vingtier for C. Dully Selection, 150 bottles)
As you know, Colombard is a grape variety, not a domaine, so we’re in the presence of a mystery producer here, but one presented by people we trust implicitly. Colour: amber. Nose: far more polished than the Ténarèze, much closer to a Cognac in style, with peach compote, various honeys, sultanas, dried apricots, papaya, yellow and white blossoms… With water: the more rustic side begins to emerge now, while truckloads of dates and prunes appear, all stuffed with marzipan. Mouth (neat): lively and earthy, on candied citron and gentian liqueur, so considerably more tense than the nose suggested. And we do enjoy that, especially with the papaya making a comeback. Even a few drops of raspberry eau-de-vie, quite unexpected in this context. With water: tobacco and leather, plus two drops of rose liqueur and three of muscat, and even hints of pineapple liqueur. How fun is that? And delicious, of course… Finish: long, creamy, more honeyed. Comments: I regret to inform you that I see no reason why we should give this magnificent Colombard a different score.
SGP:661 - 88 points. |
I don’t think we’ve ever had a tasting session where all the spirits scored the same, but there’s no reason it couldn’t happen. Of course, we’re not talking about the ‘little duos’…
Now then, about Colombard… |
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Château de Laubade 35 yo 1989/2025 ‘Early Landed Bas Armagnac’ (59.1%, Milroy’s of Soho, Colombard Reserve)
We don’t really know when exactly this one “landed early”—was it from the moment the cask was filled? Colour: amber. Nose: there are indeed similarities with the C. Dully, though this is even more classical, with chocolate and cigars, polished wood, ground coffee, and quite simply ‘oak’. And it works. With water: a curious meaty side appears, even… truffled foie gras. Well, it is the region after all. Mouth (neat): much more rustic, with pine needles, dried porcini, chocolate, tobacco, leather, varnish… But it’s lovely, just very traditional. You’ll tell me that’s expected, as it was early-landed in the UK (insert God Save the King here). With water: it wakes up, becomes a little more resinous, even faintly phenolic, with some truly lovely pepper. Finish: long, on fir honey and resin. A moist forest-floor note in the aftertaste. Comments: this one got off to a slow start but in the end, it caught up with the others. Mad and excellent.
SGP:561 - 88 points. |
Quite frankly, at this point it’s easy to see why some malt whisky lovers have become so fond of these Armagnacs. |
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Château de Campagne d’Armagnac 1988/2025 (50.4%, Marquis de Montesquiou, Oxygène, Bas-armagnac)
From pure Ugni Blanc, sourced from a sizeable estate that once belonged to Pernod Ricard and was closed down in 2011, only to be brought back to life by a new group of majority shareholders. A word of warning, Campagne d’Armagnac isn’t exactly bustling, just 212 residents, according to Wikipedia. Colour: deep gold. Nose: immediately more varnishy and fruity, yet with a touch of earthiness too, all layered atop very classic aromas of stewed Agen plums and prune purée, with a few dabs of lavender and violet over a base that’s heavily liquorice-laced, and a rather pronounced oakiness that leans towards cocoa and cinnamon. With water: it’s chiefly the tobacco that rises now, like an old pack of unfiltered Gauloises left behind in the pocket of a worn velvet jacket belonging to a dearly departed grandfather from the Gers. You see what I mean. Mouth (neat): fruity to start (oranges and peaches), but swiftly shifting to pepper and bitterness, with a prominent oak influence that remains elegant. With water: this is where it truly comes into its own, as the oak melts into the citrus and assertive honeys. Finish: long, quite candied, yet still fresh. Orange zest and prunes, then chocolate. Comments: all of this displays absolute coherence at present.
SGP:561 - 88 points. |
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Aurian 36 yo 1988/2024 (42.6%, The Roots, Bas-armagnac, barrique #19)
A word of caution, it's well known that old Armagnacs brought down, the natural way, to more modest strengths can gain a certain advantage, often coming across as more seductive and less rustic... Colour: amber. Nose: just as expected, we’re firmly in the realm of elegance and complexity now, with floral touches, spices, dried fruits, tiny flecks of tar and wax, plus slightly mentholated raisins... Mouth: indeed, it’s certainly easier, but all the more beautiful for it, with rather striking complexity, English tobacco, figs, cedar and sandalwood, vanilla, crème caramel, and that same verbena we’d already come across... Finish: fairly long, more matte, focusing on liquorice, coffee beans and dark chocolate, although in the end, it’s the candied orange that carries the day. Comments: truth be told, we do enjoy the more rustic, countryside character of some of the earlier bottlings, but this one is more approachable, and that matters. Bang, one extra point. At last!
SGP:651 - 89 points. |
Now, we do love high-strength cask strength spirits, just as we do in whisky, but beware of the marketing spin that goes, ‘we’re selling it to you at full strength so you can dilute it to your preferred level.’ Well, it’s absolutely not the same thing, because in your glass, there’s no time for proper integration. Especially since skilled producers, at least in France, dilute progressively before bottling, sometimes two degrees at a time, like any great liquorist. I even know some who go one degree at a time, with long resting periods in between. The result is nothing like a quick splash of water in your glass, mixed in ten seconds flat, with no resting time. Right, let’s carry on and return to Ténarèze… |
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Pébérère 1985/2025 (46.7%, Le Passeur, Ténarèze, cask #208)
We’re in Condom, one of the capitals of Armagnac and a small town whose name has already caused a fair bit of laughter among foreign friends. We shall say no more and remain cloaked in a dignified and everlasting indifference (shall we?). In any case, I rather like these very simple labels, meaningful, free from any AI fluff or flashy visuals trying to dazzle the eye. We tasted one of their Pébérère 1973s last year and it was superb (WF 90). Colour: full gold. Nose: soft and elegant for a Ténarèze, leaning more towards beeswax and mirabelle tart (and plum tart), with a rather opulent honeyed quality that’s never ever vulgar, quite the opposite. I know the Armagnac purists would probably shoot me on sight for saying this, but to me this leans slightly towards fins bois Cognac. Avec mes excuses. Mouth: a pronounced oakiness, but handled with elegance, honeyed fruitiness and a lovely smooth touch. Oak honeydew, if you like, plus tobacco and lemon zest, with a hint of salt and plenty of black pepper. As they say, it speaks volumes. Finish: the tobacco steps forward now, with peach skins joining in. Comments: I was only joking about the Cognac, the finish here is 100% Armagnac, no question.
SGP:561 - 89 points. |
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Bas-Armagnac 45 yo (43.4%, Decadent Drams, Decadent Drinks, 179 bottles, 2025)
Whether using the very Scottish word ‘dram’ for an Armagnac is truly allowed remains unclear, but I doubt the good people at Decadent and so forth need to fear a volley of birdshot or rock salt in the backside next time they stroll through the Gers or the Landes. In any case, the old hunting rifles were handed in to the gendarmerie ages ago, weren’t they (but of course). Colour: deep gold. Nose: I haven’t checked whether this is a blend, but either way it’s fairly rounded, civilised, loyal and commercial, rather Cognac-like again this time, with honeys, stewed yellow fruits, juicy sultanas, all sorts of waxes and a few drops of sweet wines from the South-West—Jurançon, Monbazillac, sweet Gaillac and of course Bordeaux. I’m thinking especially of Cérons—are you familiar with Cérons? Mouth: pure sin in the glass, with an incredible duet of stewed and dried fruits, citrus and apricots, honeys and sweet wines. Finish: not particularly long, but that’s down to the very genteel bottling strength. Lovely slightly fruity soils in the aftertaste. Comments: I’m a little embarrassed, most of the recent releases from Mr Decadent and his team seem to score 90, which could start to look a bit fishy. And yet, not at all. At all. At all. A superb Armagnac that manages to feel both joyously fresh and older than its ‘mere’ 45 years. Just be careful, it slips down far too easily; you’ll want a lock with a timer on that cork.
SGP:641 - 90 points. |
We’ll finish with three from 1976. Remember that in Armagnac and Cognac, the vintage refers to the year of the harvest, not the distillation, and 1976 was an exceptionally hot year in France, so much so that the French government introduced a ‘drought tax’ that year. They were always good at that. |
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Dartigalongue 1976/2025 (45.3%, OB, for Festival de l’Armagnac 2026)
Here it is, the official bottle (or one of them) of the upcoming Festival de l’Armagnac, to be held in Bordeaux on 7 March. It ought to be a stunner. Colour: amber. Nose: I don’t wish to be misunderstood, this is a more traditional style, more ‘commercial’, but in this context that’s high praise indeed, meaning everything is absolutely spot on. Fir buds, yellow Chartreuse, heather honey, a touch of potting soil and pipe tobacco, a little furniture wax, then a whole cavalcade of flowers, nectars and pollens. And we nearly forgot to mention the obligatory apricots and vineyard peaches. Mouth: a mirror of the nose, word for word, which is rather rare. Still those buds, along with precious woods, beeswax polish, quince jelly, apricot jam, acacia and mullein blossom syrup, Seville orange marmalade… and a whole host of other things too, including cracked peppercorns and dark tobacco. Finish: long, and now much more focused on the tobacco, which is quite spectacular, though the orange marmalade returns in the aftertaste to shake things up. Comments: well then, let’s hope both the Bordeaux festival organisers and the venerable house of Dartigalongue have prepared a very big batch of this splendid—and rather heatwave-y—1976.
SGP:661 - 91 points. |
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Pébérère 1976 ‘Le Gers Majeur’ (49.6%, Malternative Belgium, Ténarèze, cask #115, 120 bottles)
The Belgians again! By way of retaliation, I think we’ll set up an import company in France specialising in only the finest shrimp croquettes from their coasts, that’ll teach them. Colour: red amber. Nose: strike. Candied bananas, ultra-fruity rum in the TDL-from-Trinidad style, orange cream, and five kilos of golden sultanas soaked in sunlight. I don’t believe it’s humanly possible to resist this, and if it’s a bit pushy, it certainly is so with tremendous elegance. Mouth: on the palate it’s nearly identical to the Dartigalongue ’76, just a touch livelier. As we sometimes say, we could drink a double magnum of each in a head-to-head and still fail to declare a winner. Not that we lack the motivation, but we shall refrain… Finish: the same feeling again, though this one may be just a touch more citrusy and minty. Comments: sheer beauty. One could sip this alongside duck confit with ceps in a foie gras and truffle sauce—what do you say? Nutritionists and dieticians, this message was not for you.
SGP:661 - 91 points. |
It’s time to wrap up this little vertical tasting, before sampling more Armagnacs next year. |
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Château Garreau 1976/2025 (50.1%, The Whisky Jury, Bas-armagnac, release #129, cask #24, 249 bottles)
A splendid return to handwritten labels, so fashionable twenty or thirty years ago. No need to introduce Garreau anymore—one of those houses recently and justly brought into the spotlight by the independent bottlers, including those from the whisky world. Colour: amber. Nose: a very lovely and very light touch of sulphur to start with, quite unusual for Armagnac but really charming here, as it adds an extra dimension. Then come mangos, papayas and fresh guavas—all three excessive in terms of aroma, in the best possible way. The overall effect is rather wild, in a good way, and frankly, you’d think you were in Jamaica. A gentler Jamaica, granted… Mouth: that sulphur returns, bringing added character, alongside those mangos, some small resinous and phenolic molecules, even a bit of mint, and quite frankly, three tonnes of papaya from who knows where. PS: we adore fresh papaya, even if we seem to be in the minority on this planet. Finish: the finish is less obvious, with a touch of bitter mint and even some artichoke notes. Comments: right, we absolutely love it, though those slightly alien notes do make one wonder whether there’s been a bit of ‘creative’ reracking somewhere along the line. Or not. But it’s magnificent.
SGP:662 - 89 points. |
Bonus: This new Gaube reached us just before publication, and rather than waiting until next year, we decided to taste it in a very preliminary way, quickly, for the sake of the cause. |
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Château de Gaube 1963/2025 (44.1%, Domaine de Lassaubatju for Kirsch Import, Journal des Kirsch #12, Bas Armagnac, 164 bottles)
Pure baco from the Landes, right on the border with the Gers, in the famous tawny sands (sables fauves). Colour: dark amber with copper tones. Nose: pure prune cake served still warm and richly caramelised in its earthenware mould, the kind passed down from a great-grandmother, or perhaps even earlier. As it goes along, this little masterpiece from the Gascon countryside sends out wafts of black earth after the first rain, pine needles, forgotten vegetables (swede, Jerusalem artichoke) and tamarind jam enriched with eucalyptus and mint. It is very distinctive and very, very beautiful. Mouth: we find exactly the same profile as on the nose, with that superb earthy and very tertiary character, plus a little tar-and-liquorice duo that always works. Finish: long, with the same notes but also a saline touch, a bit of salmiak, pine sap and black olive. That magnificent earthy touch returns in the aftertaste. Comments: absolutely no fatigue in this rather explosive armagnac with a magnificent personality. Given the pedigree, it must be said, it’s not exactly a surprise, alas! (remember the French always need to complain).
SGP:572 - 93 points. |
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December 20, 2025 |
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Angus's Corner
From our correspondent and
skilled taster Angus MacRaild in Scotland
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Famous Glenfarclas:
A Three-Way Battle
As we begin to feel festive here at Whiskyfun's Scotland Embassy, it seems only fitting to pit three rather legendary Glenfarclas against one another and see which one emerges victorious. Glenfarclas always feels like Christmassy whisky to me. The trouble, as ever, with such lineups, is what order in which to taste them...? |
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Glenfarclas-Glenlivet 15 yo (57%, OB, Pinerolo for Edward Giaccone, 75cl, early 1970s)
Edward Giaccone was one of the earliest and most influential whisky collectors in Italy, responsible for kindling the passions of many of his contemporaries and those that followed after. Colour: deep gold. Nose: hardwood resins, petrichor, earthy potting sheds, toolboxes full of oily rags, some very old Sauternes that has digested many of its sugars in beautiful fashion, flower honey fully crystalised and dried herbs, exotic teas, wormwood, cocktail bitters and the most delicate medicinal qualities. It's also rather stunning salty, in the style some tip-top old, bone-dry VORS Amontillado. With water: some ancient Fins Bois cognac emerges, one of those noses that makes you marvel at how great, oak-aged distillates can converge and play tricks on you. Also a stunningly vibrant fruitiness, full of sultana and mirabelle comes through. Mouth: to quote Serge from around 2007: "Pow!". An immediately thick and rugged sherry profile that's both fruity and honeyed, but also terrifically earthy and salty. Once again making you think of very old, dry Amontillados or Palo Cortado. But also aged citrus rinds, mineral oil, camphor, pine wood resins and tar, and then slightly gamey and animalistic qualities. With water: cured meats glazed in honeys, aged mead, camphor, plum wine and miso. Then salted butterscotch, wild mushroom risotto, tarragon and old Drambuie. Finish: very long, earthy, full of tertiary notes that make you think of herbal infusions, Maggi, old workshops, cough syrups and endless variations of old liqueurs. Stunning salinity returns in the aftertaste. Comments: we're already flying high and getting carried away! Unsurprising with this wonderful old masterpiece. I adore the umami / broths / salty elements of the profile, a style that's very hard to find in this perfectly balanced way, even in old bottles.
SGP: 562 - 93 points. |
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Glenfarclas 21 yo (51.5%, OB, Pinerolo import for Edward Giaccone, bottled 1974)
Colour: deep orangey gold. Nose: the 15yo but just altogether deeper, thicker and full of darker honey impressions, pure honeysuckle, flower nectars, mirabelle, quince and ancient, orange-themed liqueurs. Also more of these wonderful impressions of top class, very old Sauternes. Also many more subtle citrus notes, involving lemon marmalade, lemon verbena and citrus liqueurs. Exquisite, would be the word. With water: more of everything, only saltier and leaning slightly more towards wood spices, tiny threads of smoke and umami qualities. Mouth: another level, similarly all about stunning waxiness of texture, endless variations of herbal liqueurs, marmalades, medicinal balms, the most subtle and beautiful underlying peaty flavour and then even more subtle impressions of coal smoke, camphor, bouillon and miso paste. With water: let's try not to indulge in too much Maltoporn, it's a masterpiece, an ode to texture, flavour and beauty. Finish: very, very long, with more stunning interplay of honeys, resins, dry peat and endless subtle dark and citrus fruit notes. Comments: I think this one absolutely deserves its reputation. One of those whiskies which anyone who wants to understand what quality in whisky really means, and what the possibilities are for whisky as a drink, should endeavour to try. If nothing else, it's a singularly wonderful tasting experience.
SGP: 663 - 95 points. |
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Glenfarclas 30 yo 1964/1995 (54.1%, Signatory Vintage, cask #4996, sherry butt, 480 bottles)
This one already carries quite the reputation, WF95 from Serge back in... 2005! Colour: deep gold. Nose: an amazingly precise orangey profile, within which lurks many variations of orange juice, orange peels, top class marmalades and aged orange liqueurs such as Cointreau. Add to that a gorgeous underlying waxiness, some ripe yellow plums, pure honeycomb and an increasingly wide-spectrum fruitiness that starts to display dried exotic fruits, muesli, pine resins and spearmint. Quite beautiful! With water: more crystalised, slightly drier, even a hint of acidity - a stunning freshness in other words. Develops some vibes of very old dry Chenin Blanc and Riesling, along with many more subtle waxes, breads and tea notes. Mouth: amazing power and density upon arrival! Waxiness of texture, amazing body in the mouth, chestnut and flower honeys galore, beeswax, then an encroaching saltiness that brings to mind very similar feelings as in the Giaccone 15yo. One of those flavour profiles where there is so much going on and you cannot 'see the joins' between all these different characteristics so you feel a little overwhelmed - in the best sense! A whisky that takes the driving seat. With water: perfect! Amazing waxy and bready qualities, crystalised honey, pure honeycomb and beeswax, lanolin, camphor, hessian, wood spices and cedar boxes full of unlit cigars. Finish: beautifully long, with persistent salty notes, mineral oils, herbal teas and almost going full circle back towards bitter orange marmalades full of spices. Comments: undoubtedly a total gem of a Glenfarclas. This one for me is almost more about the palate than the nose, which is rarely the case at such ages. Once again a poem to saltiness, waxiness and honey!
SGP: 561 - 94 points. |
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You will be pleased to hear that an equal mix of all three is unsurprisingly utterly incredible! If anyone has 24 bottles of each of these lying about and would like to discuss a special bottling project, please feel free to get in touch... |
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(Sustained and heartfelt hugs to KC, Cicada and Aaron.) |
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December 19, 2025 |
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WF's Quirky Little Duos, two heavy peaters from Campbeltown |
In other words, Longrow and the latest heavily peated batch from its cousin Kilkerran. I do wonder, in fact, whether the development of Glengyle/Kilkerran might have slightly slowed down that of Springbank’s heavily peated version. |
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Longrow 21 yo (46%, OB, Limited Release, 2023)
35% Bourbon and 65% Sherry, unlike 2022’s edition (30% bourbon, 60% sherry, 10% chardonnay) that Angus sampled back then (WF 85). It has to be said we usually prefer the clean versions of Longrow, 100% bourbon or refill. Colour: full gold. Nose: the animal side hits first, almost on pure mutton fat, then gently fades to make way for roasted pumpkin seeds and the very much anticipated medicinal dimension, quite camphory, with eucalyptus layered on top, and a touch of dried seaweed on one of the peninsula’s beaches. Worth noting—and good news—there’s none of that sulphury note sometimes found in the sherry-heavy Longrows. Mouth: sharp salinity and pepper straight away, very assertive, with growing brine and that fairly typical carbon dustiness, then smoked meats and tobacco. Walnut and even more tobacco seize control next, with the appearance of orange zest and the omnipresent salt. Finish: long, returning to mutton fat with some very dark chocolate and even a few white-wine-steamed mussels. The aftertaste reverts to medicinal. Comments: these Longrows always dance to their own tune. Cracking stuff.
SGP:466 - 89 points. |
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Kilkerran ‘Heavily Peated Batch 13’ (58.6%, OB, 2025)
We were rather fond of Batch 12, also released this year (WF 87) Colour: pale gold. Nose: seriously powerful at first, brushing up against cologne, then slowly the candied lemons, oysters and iodine tincture take over, bringing a piercing, clean sharpness to the whole. With water: seawater, seaweed, plaster and beach sand at low tide. Mouth (neat): perfect, farmy, very lemony, with surprising notes of Toplexil, green pepper and salt. In the end, it’s all about purity. With water: really excellent, almost like pure oyster juice, just missing a few drops of Muscadet. Finish: very long, very vertical, salty, peppery and lemony to the point of excess, but we’re all for that. Slightly youthful on the aftertaste, with green pear and a touch of rubber. Comments: still just as good and properly peaty. We now await batch #14, likely due next year.
SGP:456 - 87 points. |
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December 18, 2025 |
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WF's Little Duos,
today Ballindalloch |
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| Ballindalloch Distillery and their famous worm tubs (Ballindalloch + AI) |
Let’s be honest, we don’t quite have time or let's say tasting slots for all these ‘new cat’ distilleries from Scotland or elsewhere, especially when we still have zillions of Ben Nevis bottlings to get through (just to pick one example at random). We're not even sure WF is still compatible, if it ever was, with the pace and variety of new barley-based product releases. That said, one of the new distilleries that did impress us this year was Ballindalloch. Wow! And to think, at the start of the year, we only knew them by name… Right then, let’s crack on… |
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Ballindalloch 2015/2025 ‘The Castle’ (50%, OB, The Novel, The Castle, 1st & 2nd Fill Bourbon, 2,400 bottles) 
Apparently, this is tied to a book by one John Sutherland, though that doesn’t ring many bells on this side of the Channel. I readily admit that it’s probably something we ought to be ashamed of, rather than proud. Now, careful—some casks seem to have been ex-peaters, so we may be looking at a bit of in-cask blending here, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves… Colour: pale white wine. Nose: it’s fresh, taut, fermentary, very close to the barley, apple, and sourdough side of things, although there are indeed smoky notes that feel distinctly grafted-on. Pears and ashes. Mouth: really very good, though it does come across as a blended malt on the palate, which of course doesn’t take anything away from the overall quality. A wee touch of Monkey Shoulder ‘Smokey Monkey’. Finish: long, rather lovely actually, balanced, but with more overt peat. Comments: the peat has only grown in strength, and this is a very good young malt, no question about it. But is it really a ‘single malt’? Answers on a postcard…
SGP:554 - 83 points. |
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Ballindalloch 2016/2024 (61.8%, OB, for Austria, bourbon barrel, cask #233)
Go on then, try saying ‘Ballindalloch’ with a Salzburg accent and see what happens… Colour: white wine. Nose: what we liked so much in the one we tasted earlier this year (for Germany) is right here again, fresh bread, focaccia, baker’s yeast, apple and pear peelings, wee berries (rowan, service tree, holly), plus medlar and jujube. You do have to dig a little, but it’s worth it. With water: plaster, chalk, cement, slate, then freshly cut grass and a good handful of fresh barley. Mouth (neat): it’s a little strong but only just (S.!) on earth, bread dough, tart apples, white pepper, even a touch of papier-mâché. It’s a little austere on the palate for now, fair to say, but that’s often a good sign. With water: and there we go, the cavalry arrives right on cue—salted apples, olive biscuits, anchovy crackers, in short a superb salinity that was completely unexpected. Finish: very long, even saltier, tingling, ultra-precise and taut. Comments: clearly the polar opposite of a consensual travel retail malt (BTW what a disaster this year in travel retail, prices and all the rest), but we adore this utterly uncompromising profile, which could easily hold its own alongside the great gentians, great mezcals, great piscos, great white marcs…
SGP:461 - 88 points. |
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December 17, 2025 |
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One last solera session, fearlessly, before the end of the year
Just a reminder that these whiskies are tasted almost one by one, whenever we have five minutes, rather than during a large, specifically organised session. Thank you for your understanding and patience... |
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Symington’s 10 yo (46%, Signatory Vintage, blended Scotch, sherry and bourbon, 2025)
I daresay that if I had access to Signatory’s immense warehouses, I’d have quite the time cobbling together a few batches myself. Only snag is, I’ve no idea how to operate one of those snazzy modern forklifts, I’m afraid… Colour: gold. Nose: rather more malty than your average blend, regardless of the label, showing a lovely green walnut, some ale, wisps of snapped branches and orange zest, with apple making a cheerful appearance as well. Truth be told, we know a fair number of young Speyside single malts that are less enticing on the nose than this. Mouth: the sherry comes through with greater insistence on the palate, bringing nuts, oranges, black pepper and nutmeg, along with black tea and a clutch of little matching biscuits, including shortbread for good measure. Finish: medium in length but fresh and most enjoyable. Apples and cinnamon. Comments: let’s not forget this goes for €30 a bottle. Jolly well done.
SGP:431 - 84 points. |
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Coachbuilt (46%, OB, blended Scotch, +/-2025)
A whisky concocted by a coterie involving former F1 driver Jenson Button and Williams Racing, who proclaim their ambition to ‘Redefine Blended Scotch Whisky’. Naturally, we’ve heard that line some 3,458,241 times before, but we’ll keep our ears and palates open, although revolutions tend not to announce themselves in advance. Colour: white wine. Nose: pretty, fresh, somewhat coastal, well balanced and refreshing. For now, it’s not exactly earthshattering, but it’s well put together, with a genuinely charming brightness on apples and a touch of seaweed. Mouth: a tad sweet, on marshmallows and lemon drops, then gently turning more malty and faintly smoky. Finish: not very long, but clean. Slight hints of SevenUp. Comments: this isn’t bad at all and doesn’t come across as completely absurd following the Symington’s, which was clearly playing in another division. There is a slightly odd sweetness throughout, but let’s not forget Mr Button was Formula 1 world champion in 2009. Worth an extra point or two for that alone (shame on me!) Please note that there’s also another version which is quite superior we think, we’ll be tasting it here soon.
SGP:641 - 79 points. |
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Fable Blend 5 yo ‘The Fiendish King’ (46.5%, Pendulum Spirits, Batch 4, 2022, 9,000 bottles)
I fear we may have lost touch a little with these charming folk, but one thing’s for certain, their labels remain absolutely splendid. Colour: pale white wine. Nose: apple and lemon juice, with greengages and a touch of barley syrup. Fairly straightforward stuff, but it works for me. Mouth: really quite enjoyable, gently smoky, salty, coastal, peppery and with a noticeable lager or pilsner-like edge. The apple does most of the heavy lifting and does it rather well. Finish: a little short but following the same general path, which is no bad thing. Some smoke. Comments: does the job very nicely, not overloaded with caramel, and the vanilla and coconut are kept to a blessed minimum.
SGP:552 - 80 points. |
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House of Hazelwood 36 yo ‘The Lowlander’ (45.9%, OB, The Legacy Collection, American oak, 432 bottles, 2024)
It’s a blend and it’s a Lowlander, though let’s not forget that many grain distilleries are—or were—based in the Lowlands, notably Girvan. The question remains as to which Lowland malts William Grant may have employed here… Ladyburn, perhaps? And why not? Colour: pale gold. Nose: a kiss of vanilla and coconut, as they say, though to be honest it’s really very pretty, very elegant, with notes of honeysuckle and dandelion, orange custard, blancmange, marshmallow, fresh American oak (a bit of re-racking perhaps?) and white nougat. Lovely! Mouth: oh, this is lovely indeed, one might call it an anti-Ardbeg, all softness and gentleness, with honey ice cream, hay jelly (a sublime thing when done right) and floral puddings whipped up by top pastry chefs. Finish: not terribly long, granted, but delightfully floral, with no intrusive oak despite the age and the spirit’s relative delicacy. Comments: truth be told, we approached this one with some hesitation but came away thoroughly charmed. Only the aftertaste is a touch frail, with light tannins turning just slightly sour.
SGP:631 - 88 points. |
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House of Hazelwood 56 yo ‘The Long Marriage’ (48.7%, OB, blended Scotch, The Charles Gordon Collection, American oak hogshead, 288 bottles, 2022)
One imagines Balvenie and Glenfiddich are calling the shots here… Colour: dark amber. Nose: this is an old Rolls-Royce in liquid form, full of aged waxes, precious woods, varnishes, glacé chestnuts, and a humidor crammed to the brim, with just the faintest echo of very ancient Calvados. Did you notice we did not mention any used engine oil that has leaked onto a concrete floor? A magnificent nose, truly one for the museum. Mouth: oh, this is glorious indeed, with far more structure than expected, no fatigue whatsoever, still those roasted chestnuts, old orange liqueur, and vintage Cognac—which reminds us that these venerable Scotch whiskies, or rather their forefathers, found their audience after phylloxera vastatrix had ravaged the vineyards of Cognac. You know the tale. A magnificent palate, whichever way you cut it. Finish: not very long, but perfect, on praline, toasted and caramelised nuts, old rum, old Cognac—in short, very ‘world’. And superb. Comments: one bows without resistance, as before a masterpiece by an old Italian master, in Firenze or elsewhere.
SGP:651 - 91 points. |
Since we're taking a step back in time… |
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The Antiquary ‘De Luxe’ (43.5%, OB, blended Scotch, Wax & Vitale, Italy, 75cl, 1960s)
We’ve already sampled some marvellous old Antiquary in the past, and the more recent ones haven’t been half bad either. Colour: white wine. Nose: brings to mind White Horse, with peat, axle grease, wax, withering apples and a whole contingent of dried fruits, not overdone, mind. Mouth: how good is this, how good is this! A blend that would send quite a few modern malts back to school, complexity module first. That said, Antiquary always carried a mighty reputation, and this sample more than justifies it. Lovely notes of small dried fruits, jujubes, sultanas, citrus peels… Finish: a little saline, earthy, citrusy and gently phenolic. Brilliant lemon zest in the aftertaste. Comments: a thousand times better than that ‘J&W Hardie Ltd’ version we had back in… May 2005. So not that long ago, eh.
SGP:562 - 87 points. |
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| A delightful print advert for The Antiquary, from the early 1960s, by Tomi Ungerer (Strasbourg 1931 – Cork 2019) |
You cannot imagine the deep shame we feel as we prepare to taste the next baby, two years late… |
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Black Friday 15 yo ‘2023’ (54.2%, The Whisky Exchange)
It’s true we do feel that Black Friday is something of a symbol for the hollowness of the age, the dumbing-down of society, and the pernicious, hyper-commercialised influence of the degenerate Western barbarians. I may be exaggerating ever so slightly here… Anyway, rumour has it this one’s Glenkinchie. Colour: amber. Nose: wax and fading apples and pears, then pine needles. With water: waxes and polishes, then walnut butter. Mouth (neat): lovely resins, mint, salted butter caramel, gingerbread and a touch of rum. With water: drifting towards tobaccos, citrus peels and all things mentholy. Finish: same ballpark, lovely, not very long. Comments: I’m fully aware that publishing such a tasting note two years late makes no sense whatsoever. Must be our punk side showing (eh?) …
SGP:451 - 85 points. |
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Avon 9 yo 2016/2025 (51.5%, Milroy’s Soho Selection, hogshead, blended malt)
We are getting a bit fed up with the guessing games, let’s be honest. There, it’s said, with a free mind and peace in our heart. Colour: white wine. Nose: this is lovely—waxy, precise, mineral, lightly smoky, just perfect. With water: beer and malt start to peek through. Mouth (neat): but this is delicious! Apples, green walnuts, tart pears. With water: honey and yellow and green fruits. Excellent. Finish: long, fresh, taut, on small apples and wild pears. Comments: so, what is it? Granted, we know that the River Avon is joining the River Spey near Ballindalloch Castle…
SGP:552 - 85 points. |
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Scottish Glory (40%, OB, blended Scotch, +/-2025) 
Moving on to simpler things, and mercifully not too expensive. We’d tasted an earlier version under a different label about a dozen years ago (WF 60). Colour: white wine; at least it’s not drowning in caramel. Nose: well, this is fairly fresh, very much on apple, hay and pear, with no overt cardboard notes, rather a few hints of dandelion. In short, far from dreadful—on the contrary. Ideal for a summer day, with ice cubes, out in the open… Mouth: quite a bit drier here, slightly cardboardy in fact, with no obvious fruitiness, and leaning towards bitterness. That hay was lovely on the nose, less so on the palate. Finish: short but bitter. Bitter orange. Comments: there are some good sides, especially the nose, but elsewhere you’ll want a fair amount of ice, I reckon. Not terribly glorious, this Glory.
SGP:331 - 62 points. |
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Queen Anne 12 yo ‘Light De Luxe Whisky’ (43%, Hill Thompson, Giovinetti, 75cl, +/-1975)
A Seagram’s/Glenlivet brand. The “light” mention is typical of the era—everyone wanted lightness, and some whiskies were even decolourised rather than dosed with caramel. Paler = lighter, as it were. Colour: pale gold. Nose: it’s very light indeed, with hints of peanuts, herbs, old beer, and also infusions—chamomile especially—with a faint waxy touch. Gradually, a little peat emerges, lending it something of a White Horse… light. Very light. Mouth: this is actually better on the palate, with broths and herbal teas, smoke, tobacco… That White Horse light profile becomes even more evident. Finish: fairly long in the end, saline and smoky. Comments: it really opened up after a few minutes. A very charming old blend, in fact, worth noting that age-stated versions like this 12-year-old were top-tier in their day!
SGP:352 - 84 points. |
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Glen Mavis (43%, OB, Italy, blended Scotch, +/-1970) 
The brand still exists, currently selling, for example, for €21.50 at the excellent Whisky Lodge in France. For 1 litre. Colour: full gold. Nose: OBE is very noticeable, with soapy notes, old paper, but also hints of old liqueurs, fir, orange… the jury’s still out. Mouth: it’s really on its last legs, though one can still pick up a smoky, even maritime character, more clearly expressed in the Queen Anne. Finish: very short, dry. Comments: noted here for the record. Still drinkable, hence the relatively decent score, but it must have been far better ‘in its day’. A shame, the label is absolutely lovely.
SGP:231 - 40 points. |
Just one last one for now… |
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John Haig ‘Gold Label’ (No ABV mention, Liqueur Scotch Whisky, Haig & Haig, Markinch, spring cap, 1936)
We know it’s from 1936 because the original owner pencilled the date onto the label. Very much in period style, the label is festooned with medals, though curiously there's no mention of the World Whisky Awards or the San Francisco World Spirits Competition. It doesn’t yet reference ‘the late King George V’, who had passed in January 1936, merely stating ‘by appointment’ beneath the royal seal. Colour: full gold. Nose: this is lovely, brimming with roasted nuts, pecans, scones and muffins, pizza dough, damp earth and savoury broths, very much in the style of many truly old blends. Antique orange and citrus liqueurs. Mouth: Turkish delight with peanuts, more roasted nuts, sesame paste, certainly some peat, old dry sherry… all wrapped in a texture and strength that haven’t faded a bit, feels close to 80° UK proof or thereabouts. Finish: begins to fade at this stage, which is to be expected, drifting into dry tobacco and cardboard. Comments: a moving pre-war blend, likely with distillate from the 1920s. Don’t we catch a glimpse of these bottles and their wooden crates in the original version of Whisky Galore? We really ought to check…
SGP:352 - 87 points. |
(Max, Tom, Wouter, you’re kings) |
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December 16, 2025 |
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The Time Warp Sessions, new aged Glen Grants with 30 years between them |
I find it unfair that Glen Grant remains somewhat slightly in the shadows today. It's one of the seminal malt distilleries—if not the seminal one—whose official releases, or those through Gordon & MacPhail, long outclassed the competition fair and square when it came to quality. |
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Glen Grant 30 yo 1994-1995/2025 (46.8%, Decadent Drinks, WhiskyLand, barrels, 360 bottles)
The boss of Decadent Drinks, citizen Angus, is an absolute fanatic of Glen Grant and generally speaking, that shows in their bottlings. Let’s check this one quickly then… Colour: deep gold. Nose: it’s like an old Meursault, or a very old white Graves, in any case it has that sort of complexity, somewhere between orange pound cake, melted butter, white flowers, very ripe pear, stearin wax, and chervil… Mouth: even better than on the nose, more citrus-led, with lemon creams, lemon meringue pie, and numerous secondary and tertiary elements, including wood spices that have completely melted into the distillate, along with touches of pineapple. Finish: medium in length, with grapefruit but also coconut and herbal infusions. Comments: one of those slightly fragile moments when the whisky hesitates somewhat about which path to follow. It’s true that Glen Grant no longer has the rich, muscular profile of olden times, but here there are some very, very beautiful remnants. A somewhat intellectual malt, but that’s not why we rather love it, eh.
SGP:561 - 90 points. |
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Glen Grant 59 yo 1966/2025 (51.1%, Gordon & MacPhail, Year of the Fire Horse, refill sherry hogshead, 88 bottles)
In China, the year of the fire horse is 2026! We may be a little early here. For once, you might say… Colour: full gold. Nose: it’s so typical, so lovely, so marked by all things straight out of a beehive—pollen, honey, wax, propolis, fir wood—and notes of old Chablis from a great vintage and an excellent grand cru. Not Grenouilles, that’s terribly overrated and doesn’t hold up. My advice, drop it. Anyway… With water: wonderful sweetness, white chocolate, barbecued bananas, sandalwood, marshmallow… Mouth (neat): of great beauty, honeyed and gently resinous. In short, it’s fir honey with cosmetic notes (a hint of an elegant lady’s night cream) and verbena liqueur. With water: the fir, the spruce, the chartreuse, the verbena—all of it tries to take centre stage. You get exactly that impression of an old whisky slightly searching for its way, once more. It’s really charming and moving. Finish: not very long but remains entirely on the pine, hive and honey side. Comments: an exquisitely fragile thing, reminding us that malt whisky is a living being. Is it not?
SGP:561 - 92 points. |
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December 15, 2025 |
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The Time Warp Sessions, two Longmorns and a quick apéro |
Careful now, the 1963 bottled by the Gillies Club in Australia is absolutely legendary and, what’s more, practically unheard of (what you’re saying makes absolutely no sense, S.). So, to ready our palates for this little duo de la muerte, let’s start with a small Christmas apéritif… |
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Longmorn 17 yo 2007/2024 (46.6%, Delias Whiskyshop and The Whisky Agency, Christmas Series, barrel)
Whoops, perfect for Christmas, granted, though last year’s Christmas, evidently. No matter, let’s not be pedantic… Colour: white wine. Nose: as fresh and fruity as one could wish, bursting with orchard fruits—apple, pear, peach, plum—and the resulting eaux-de-vies made thereof, with touches of gooseberry, mackerel flowers and dandelions. Hints of vanilla and honey in restrained doses, as they should be. Mouth: an exact replica of the nose, down to the tiniest detail, with just a flicker of white pepper to perk things up, and perhaps a few drops of Chardonnay for good measure. It’s simply very good, of course. Finish: similar again, with a medium length and a little cider and honey to round off the ensemble in the aftertaste. Comments: a rather young Speysider, fully natural and unbothered by cosmetics. Very good, naturally.
SGP:641 - 86 points. |
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Longmorn 28 yo 1996/2025 (54.2%, WhiskyLand, Decadent Drinks, refill hogshead, 155 bottles)
According to the label, there should be pear in this charming little baby, or at least some rare fruit vaguely resembling one. Let’s say somewhere between pear and cucumber (!)… Colour: white wine. Nose: quite simple really, it’s the same whisky, but with eleven more years under its belt. It’s absolutely perfect for spotting the undeniable effects of time, which allow one to move beyond the fruits (still very much present, plus that odd fruit from the label, apparently), and into oils and waxes, with various minty notes as well. I find it all utterly beautiful and, more importantly, extremely subtle and elegant. With water: utterly charming, with a more prominent waxiness. One thinks of Candlekitty—sorry, Clynelish. Mouth (neat): excellent, the same elegant evolution brought about by the extra eleven years, this time with more melon and grapefruit, plus the expected spices, white pepper most notably. With water: the citrus and pepper take the lead, and the whole thing turns nearly refreshing. Finish: rather long, still fresh, with returning notes of mint and honey. You say mint honey? Why not indeed. Comments: a fine beast, subtle and classy, like a 1960s Formula 1 car. The modern ones are more like transgenic woodlice.
SGP:651 - 90 points. |
Brace yourselves, the chat’s about to heat up… |
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Longmorn-Glenlivet 1963/1983 (56.2%, The Gillies Club, Australia, Pure Malt, cask #3445)
There’s a line at the bottom of the label I absolutely adore: “Not for Re-sale”. Just imagine if all the top brass north of Hadrian’s Wall had slapped the same warning—or something similar—on their bottles! Auction houses (we love them all) would have a proper sulk. In any case, the Gillies Club is the stuff of legend, perhaps the first proper malt fan club, passionately devoted to both history and technique. We're talking nearly 50 years ago now, long before the Malt Maniacs or the Plowed Society. Anyway, those legendary enthusiasts selected, among other gems, this little Longmorn, which we already know is going to be fantabulous. Because you see, we already dipped our lips in it a few weeks ago… Colour: walnut stain. Nose: there's something in these old-school sherries that renders you instantly silent (who said good news, eh?). A sort of fusion between distillate and sherry cask that’s almost extinct in modern bottlings. Possibly some very positive OBE? Sultanas, damp pipe tobacco, prunes and ancient armagnac, along with delicate hints of ham, soy sauce, liquorice, mint and every dried fruit you can name. The whole is simply mind-blowing. With water: wafts of old wine cellar, blood oranges, and ancient PX, possibly from a solera started sometime around the 19th century. Mouth (neat): extraordinary. Overripe bananas, old Guyanese rum (think Port Mourant), dark chocolate, venerable Ténarèze, tobacco, figs and dried dates, plus touches of tar and ashes, and—more surprisingly—old Karuizawa. On which note, expect a 24-bottle vertical of never-before-reviewed-by-us Karuizawas here later this year. In short, this Longmorn is as classic as Mozart. With water: touches of chicken broth, truffle, and even a little miso soup. Finish: very long, marvellously dry and bitter, with waves of orange zest dipped in dark chocolate and black pepper oil. We call those orangettes here, and they’re lethal. Comments: absolutely magnificent, a ‘sherry monster’ of intergalactic calibre, but let’s not go on. How many of these bottles are even left?
SGP:662 - 96 points. |
(With heartfelt thanks to Emmanuel and Olivier) |
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