#Sherry Cask

[maltrunners]

Macallan 18 Year (1995) Sherry Cask

Review by: TOModera So in case you missed my last review, basically I was sent an old Macallan to try by /u/Porkpants81[1] , enjoyed his swine legged generosity, and decided it would be a Macallan weekend. Which basically means my two reviews this week are old Macallan whiskies. I’ve been slowly working my way through the three recommendation lists on various Scotch must-try lists, attempting…

[angelsportion]

Review - Rabbit Hole, Dareringer, Straight Bourbon Whiskey, Finished in PX Sherry Casks, (No Age Stated), 46.5%

Is it me, or are people getting weirder by the minute? To be clear, I don’t mean the obviously weird stuff. There will always be someone ready to defend the Flat Earth theory. There’s always going to be that guy who indulges in a strange fetish each day after work—like taking a bath with his goldfish. There’s always going to be that one relative at the family reunion telling prison stories to…

[thewhiskyphiles]

Highland Park 12 Years Old Viking Honour

Highland Park 12 Years Old Viking Honour Single Malt Scotch Whisky #review

Highland Park 12 Years Old Viking Honour Single Malt Scotch Whisky Image courtesy of Master of Malt 1. What they say Matured predominantly in European and American sherry seasoned oak casks, our iconic 12 Year Old single malt whisky is spicy and well-rounded, packed with the flavours of sun-kissed Seville oranges and rich fruitcake spiced with cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves; you’ll find molten…

[c-schroed]

[bottlebrief]

Glenfiddich 15 Year Review: The Truth Behind the Sherry Cask Sensation! - Whiskey Review

Rating: 5/10 – Rating System IntroductionGlenfiddich 15 Year Single Malt Scotch Whisky presents itself as a refined option within the Glenfiddich lineup. With its maturation in sherry casks, it promises a depth of flavor and complexity. However, while it offers some intriguing aspects, it falls short in delivering a truly remarkable experience. As a whisky enthusiast, one often seeks out bottles…

[whiskyblog]

[bourbontrend]

Discover the allure of the Dalmore Cask Curation Series Sherry Edition 28 year old Matusalem Finish. Dive into a world of sophisticated flavors and aromas that promise an unforgettable tasting journey. Learn why this luxurious whiskey should be your next favorite. Perfect pairings and more await in our latest review!

[goodspiritsnewsat]

GSN Review: Don Q Double Cask Finished Rums

Available in the United States since June 2009, Don Q is a Puerto Rican rum, distilled, manufactured, bottled, and distributed by Destilería Serrallés from its corporate facility in Ponce, Puerto Rico. Puerto Rico’s best-known rum, is the top-selling rum in Puerto Rico, where over 70% of the rum consumed in the United States is produced. The rum derives its name from Don Quixote, the protagonist…

[gastronominho]

Union Distillery lança whisky extraturfado

Empresa gaúcha apresenta o sexto rótulo da linha Autograph, o Pure Malt Whisky Extraturfado Sherry Cask Finish

Empresa gaúcha apresenta o sexto rótulo da linha Autograph, o Pure Malt Whisky Extraturfado Sherry Cask Finish O destilado que dá origem ao novo produto tem características diferentes devido ao processo de malteação da cevada. A queima da turfa (material orgânico proveniente da decomposição de vegetais) que é utilizada na secagem do grão, agrega aromas e sabores que também são transferidos para…

[dragongirlpoet]

Corrupt

Sylus x reader (not mc)

I changed the title fyi

Synopsis: Feared, ruthless and agonisingly attractive, Sylus infuriates you like no other. Yet, you work for him. As you immerse yourself in a life of vice with the Onychinus leader, you soon uncover secrets darker than the shadows he wields. Perhaps, just perhaps, you got more than what you bargained for…

Themes: Enemies to lovers, angst, sexual tension, slow burn, violence I Words: 2.1k I Semi made-up lore/cultural facts

“Drinking on the job? Tsk, that’s the third infringement on company policy you’ve made tonight, kitten.”

He took a sip of his whisky — aged in sherry cask, distilled just right with spherical ice. It was how he liked it. I knew, because I was having the exact same drink — his choice of poison at every revel, every meeting, every reclusive night alone. 

Sylus threw me a derisive look, cherry eyes surveying me over the glisten of his glass. 

“Intentions become more blatant, after a drink or two. Or in your case, five.” I challenged the man who’s kept me hired for the past year.

I was grateful. My work at the Hunters Association had turned trite. Clockwork really, — detect Wanderers, eradicate them, aid the wounded. Righteous, lawful, and so…moral.

My heart had staged a mutiny long before my mind resolved for change. And so I left my woe of comfort and dived into the hellfires of felony. He had found me scavenging for Protocore fragments in the N109, attempting to make my mark with abysmal self-made weapons.

Trinkets — Sylus had called them. Indeed I was a stray cat vagrant in the dominion of vultures.

The leader of Onychinus circled me as I downed my glass, eyebrow cocked at my words. His handsome face gave nothing away — a classic Sylus signature. 

“Dance with me?” 

A loaded question. One with threat and agency lurking beneath.

I took his outstretched hand and let him whisk me into the centre of the dapper nightclub — exclusive, accessible only to the most premier, and despicable, of criminals. 

Sylus was one of them. 

With expert grace, he spun me into an embrace, one gloved hand intertwined with mine, the other at my waist. Our steps fell in harmony with each other at once, like missing chords finding solace in a melody. 

“So? What have you heard? You seemed thoroughly engaged with that halfwit over there…” his words trailed away as his gaze dipped to my silver dress. Being his right hand had me acquainted with his quirks — sometimes endearing, more so disturbing. 

The subtle smirk dissipated as soon as it came.

“They have ties with the Ever Group. Something about a nitrogen spectrum…a capsule…Kenshi and his men have been on the hunt for it for a whi…” 

“You look divine in this dress. I had it picked out just for you. Do you not like it?” his impertinence interrupting my mid-sentence. 

I huffed a breath. “It works similarly to a Protocore, quite li…”

“Damask rose, isn’t it? With a hint of honeysuckle…out of all my spies…” he lowered his head, “you’re my favourite scent.” A roguish smile accompanied the wanton glint he cast into my eyes. 

It had always been like this. Sylus would send me on missions, most times by his side. I was never granted the elucidations of tasks, only that I’d to “act as good bait…suss out whatever information you can…kill if you have to…”

I would probe, and he would reply with a curt, “Not safe. Just do as you’re told.” It was in those moments where I thought I’d witnessed fragility in his demeanour. He would catch on, and he would put on his mask of aloof and asshole, like right now.  

I rolled my eyes, vexation apparent on my features. Sylus seemed content that he got under my skin. Not giving me a chance to reply, he twirled me around, the warm velvet of his coat now a flaming singe against my bare back. So that’s why he chose this dress…

“Come on, don’t look so incensed. I heard you. You’re doing a fantastic job, kitten. Always giving me what I need.” The last word came out huskier than intended beside my ear. 

The club was cold. Sylus was conceited. It was a perfect match. As much as I abhorred his arrogance, I welcomed the warmth of his body to mine. 

I remembered defrosting at my fireplace after I’d been caught in a snowstorm. I had sat there for hours, letting the crackling heat appease my frozen limbs. It felt nice, comforting. And with Sylus’ arms now wrapped around me — he was my fireplace.

“I’m just trying to make this spy business enjoyable for us both. Even if you’re unhappy, at least act it. After all, you’re good at pretending, right?” 

There was an edge to his words.

“I saw how you brushed his hand… that spineless leech….unless you were thinking of fucking him tonight?” His hiss was loud enough for the crowd close to us to hear. They turned, throwing us looks of disdain and outrage. I doubted Sylus realised how hard his fingers were digging into my skin.

Cheeks flushed both from the whisky and his risky display of assertion, I shot him a warning glance. “You’re insane, Sylus.”

“So quit then. But do it later, not now, not while everyone’s watching. I don’t want an audience I didn’t ask for.” He was taunting me again, wholly unfazed by the almost furore.

How much did he drink tonight?

Maybe it was the alcohol, but I was in no mood to counter his transgressions. Instead, I snaked my arms back, cradling his neck, fingers threading through his silver head of hair. Sylus stiffened at my touch, likely taken aback by my insolence. 

Soulful, sensual beats reveberated through the club, patrons — descendants of the devil themselves, wives, mistresses — all caught up in the fervour of the music. Couples were fondling and kissing on the monochrome floor. And well, I didn’t find a reason why I shouldn’t join the hedonistic heist.

So into his body I pushed mine. Gripping my hips with his right, his left hand slipped down to my abdomen, tracing the lining of my underwear. As I let my head fall back into his chest, his own came lower to nudge my face, burying his nose in my temple. A flutter flushed in my core.

There was a sort of courtliness to the way Sylus moved, a kind of elegance you could find only in Kings and Queens. Yet the way he was guiding my hips to sway in rhythm to his held such lewdity. To the frolicking outlaws here, we looked very much the part of reigning besotted lovers — timeless, transcendent. 

Enthralled by the song and how Sylus was spooning me like I was his revered ruby, I ground myself indulgently against his leather pants. He grew hard at once, length prodding at my back. 

Our combined excitement was short-lived, though. The silver dress he gifted me caught in the buckle of his belt, hiking the silk up. My black panties were exposed in wondrous glory, earning hungry looks from the men around. 

The Onychinus kingpin tugged my dress down immediately, struggling slightly at the fabric fastened to his metal. His reflexes were swift as the time I aimed a loaded gun at him. 

A loaded gun, one that was now hoisted towards the crowd. He really was insane. 

“Look away, or I won’t hesitate to blow your brains out.” His decree thundered over the booming of the speakers.

Several men smirked, others pretended to ease back into their cavorting. Assault, drugs, murder — it was just another night here at the N109. Being threatened with a revolver? — A mere parlour trick. 

But perhaps that was what Sylus wanted to let on. “Never reveal your hand. Remain powerful by appearing meek.” That was the first lesson he had taught me. 

“Sylus…careful…you could’ve put us in jeopardy…” I cast a concerned glance his way, only to find him polishing his pistol with his coat, his face a nonchalant calm. 

His tone however, was one of annoyance, as if reprimanding a child. “I wasn’t fond of the little show you just put on.” 

I put on a show? He was the one who…I sucked in a breath to abstain from an outburst. He was getting on my last nerve. 

Pretending the best I could, I instead riposted, “Oh no, it’s not for them. I put these on just for you.” 

Two could play at that game. 

I watched the silver-haired devil pin me with his gaze, the dark of his pupils rising up to swallow me whole.  

“I ought to punish you for violating company rules. Seems you’re breaking many of them tonight.” 

“That’s why you hired me in the first place, isn’t it? I don’t play by the rules.”

There was a pause. The music seemed to fade out into a distant void, drowning the chatter along with it. Strobe lights danced around his face, illuminating the reds of his eyes. His right iris appeared to…glow?

A faint disorientation overcame me. In between blinking and regretting what I said, though, I thought I noticed Sylus inch closer — as if a subtle act of want. Only I had the privilege, or burden, to be sentient of his every complexity. 

I regarded his stare as they roved over my eyes, my lips, closing the space between us…

“I want to go home.” I muttered. 

Sylus straightened himself. If he was peeved, I couldn’t tell. 

—

The ride on his motorcycle was spent in silence, save for the roaring of his modified exhausts. I refused to hold him, choosing instead to grab onto the fairing of the tail. So was another night of ambiguous motives and aimless flirtations, one in which I had grown increasingly restless.

“Why is everyone looking for the spectrum?” I asked at a traffic stop.

Silence.

“How is it even related to a Protocore? What’s so danger…”

“You really should hold on to me. I can’t risk my best spy falling off…” once again disregarding my questions, crimson eyes glaring at me through his side mirror.

“What is wrong with you? It’s been a year! And yet you don’t trust me enough with details of your dealings?” I yelled over the muffle of my helmet, my own voice ringing in my ears. 

A low rumble sounded in the distance, quite like skyscrapers being blown apart by covert dynamites. The loud whirring of Sylus’ motorcycle remained, the combined knells throwing us into a pit of trepidation.

“Kitten.” 

I knew that tone. 

Drawing out my gun, I swung myself off the bike and fired. The Protocore-infused bullet buried itself in the recesses of a Wanderer, shredding its power source, erupting shards of alloy projectiles. Some of the pieces lodged themselves into other Wanderers, causing them to convulse violently, teetering on the brink of destruction.

Behind me, Sylus fended off several monsters, his Evol wrapping ominous tendrils around their form. In a mere furl of his hand, they disintegrated into dust, leaving clouds of ash in their wake. 

My weapon was formidable enough, having been altered with a Zenith Core — a deviant design forged by Sylus himself. “I made this just for you,” he had surprised me in my first month of training. “It’ll keep you safe. Though you’ll always be so long as I’m around.”

Another shot was fired, this time by Sylus, barrel of his gun aimed over my shoulder. The creature at my back let out a piercing snarl before it crumbled into pieces. Our eyes met at once, the animosity from earlier now a muted thrum.

Hostility, however, chose to emerge in a different form — more Wanderers. Hoards of them. I spotted Foulwings and Magma Knaves, both species not known to spawn here. 

I unsheathed my blade, but we were ringed in. Their screeches and grunts enveloped the night, like a fathomless blackhole draining all levity.

“There’s too many of them. We need to leave now.” 

In a swift grab of my arm, Sylus tugged me into a whirl of nothingness. Red and black sworls engulfed us, and the last thing I remembered was being thrust in such nauseating force that I blanked out. 

—

“Kitten. Kitten, wake up.” 

I’d have recognised that voice anywhere.

Sylus was staring at me, hints of distress plain in his electric eyes. I was propped up against his arms in the middle of an empty street. It looked familiar, but not quite. Dim streetlamps cast an unearthly glow to the pavements, their shadows prostrate like spindly entities on a night prowl. 

The buildings were far from towering ones in Linkon and the N109, carved instead, out of bricks and stone no more than five stories tall. Rickety signboards flickered on and off, as though a visual alarm to caution that we were not welcomed here.

“Sylus, where are we?”

A deep sense of rue loomed over his face.

“N109 Zone.”

“120 years in the past.”

[hillwoodhouse]

The Quintessential

1 oz Redwine Cask Aged Gin 1 oz 16y aged Kornbrand spirit ½ oz Black vermouth ¼ oz Manzanilla sherry A pinch of sea salt flakes Stir with patience & ice Serve in a chilled coupe Santé

via Martin Krag

[maltrunners]

Balvenie 17 Year DoubleWood

Review by: TOModera When I started off on planning my trip to the UK, I started a list of whisky I’d like to buy. And one of the ones I was very interested in was the Balvenie 17 year DoubleWood. Why? Well the 12 year was good, and the price in Ontario was a little insane compared to the price in the UK. Then I bought a metric shite ton of minis instead, so I ordered a dram at one of the places…

[angelsportion]

Review - Tamnavulin, Sherry Cask Edition, (No Age Stated), 40%

Lifting the day's anchor with the Tamnavulin Sherry Cask Edition.

Whisky has powers that no other beverage possesses. It’s not so much that it can intoxicate, but rather, when enjoyed as it should be, it soothes, almost medicinally. For this very reason, I have a dram every night before bed. My wife complains that bedtime is the worst time. It’s not because, as it would be for any beautiful woman, she risks advances from the man beside her when she’d much…

[thewhiskyphiles]

Balvenie 12 Years Old Doublewood

Another revisit to The Balvenie's perennial classic Doublewood 12 Years Old #whisky #review #Balvenie

The Balvenie Doublewood Aged 12 Years Image courtesy of Master of Malt 1. What they say DoubleWood 12 was launched in 1993, using a process designed by our Malt Master David Stewart in 1982, now commonly known as ‘wood finishing’. To make The Balvenie DoubleWood, David Stewart MBE takes whisky that has spent at least 12 years in traditional whisky casks, American Oak ex-bourbon barrels and…

[vidavalor]

Amoroso

My dear = What Aziraphale calls Crowley. My dear, in French = mon cheri or ma cherie. Homophonic for cheri/cherie...?

...Sherry. Popular variety of sherry...?

Amoroso. In Spanish, amoroso can refer to a type of sweetened, oloroso sherry...

...but amoroso/amorosa is also an adjective used to describe a loving partner in a romantic relationship.

What kind of drink did Crowley get when Aziraphale ordered the sherry in the pub? His usual, right?

Talisker. Crowley's preferred brand of his go-to drink, a single-malt scotch. Talisker is known for infusing the taste of this particular type of sherry into their whisky by maturing different varieties of their scotch in Amoroso-seasoned casks.

Amoroso, from the Latin amorosus, same as amorous.

Amorous: to have and/or to show strong feelings of love and desire; to express erotic passion for another.

From the Latin amor, meaning love.

[memories-of-ancients]

"Sharing a very fine bottle of whiskey with my dad". What is your favorite whiskey?

Thomas S. Moore bourbon, particularly the port, sherry, or merlot cask finish.