Sometimes it’s fun to take a wee nip from several bottles of single malt one after the other to accentuate the differences between them. I’ve done it many times and it often reveals something new in a single malt I’ve tasted many times before but on its own. Today I’ve chosen randomly from my cupboard: Bowmore 12, Scapa 16 (both at 40% alcohol) and Laphroaig Triple Wood (at 48%). I
Another bottle of single malt scotch I’ve had opened in my cupboard for about a year is the Canadian Edition of Glenfiddich’s “Cask of Dreams” from 2012. $100 in Canada for the proper 750ml bottle, 48.8% alcohol, no age statement but supposedly no less than 14 years old. Limited to 20 casks, I bought a second bottle as an investment. So in ten years it’ll be worth $150 instead $100.
A malt mate of mine, Peaty Paterson, sent me two 50ml plastic bottles of single malt that were poured from regular sized bottles, both unfortunately poured from the bottom of the bottles, which means the whiskies in the sample bottles were bereft of the fresh aromas and flavours that usually accompany a newly opened bottle. Sampling the heavily oxidized dregs at the bottom of the bottle is not a fair
At first I thought my taste buds were changing, that for whatever reason my palate was no longer sensitive to the aromas and flavours of smoke and peat. I’ve recently acquired an unexpected and entirely pleasant appreciation for non-peaty, sherry influenced Highland and Speyside single malts, so temporarily losing a preference for peat in my scotches seemed reasonable. The earthy Islay scotches were my first love and have been my
I recently bought some Lagavulin 16 which has always been the king of kings and the holiest of holies for me, the earthiest, peatiest, smokiest of scotches, smooth and warm — but I was underwhelmed. The big blast of smoke and peat I’ve come to expect from Lagavulin was gone. It was as if the bottle had been left open for a month and diluted. Is it possible I got