#kwmwhiskycalendar

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At first I was confused. After some very aged and truly remarkable independent bottlings, the Kensington Wine Market whisky advent calendar has backslid to a truly budget-conscious single malt. But it’s kind of a genius choice, much like using your ‘Calvin and Hobbes’ box set to achieve ergonomic and aesthetic perfection for your Zoom calls during a pandemic.

I first tired the Ardmore Legacy in February of 2017. I had recently tried some fairly experimental whiskies, like the Amador Double Barrel Bourbon, Glenfiddich's first Experimental Series release, the IPA cask, and a month's worth of independent bottlings from the Secret Spirits advent calendar. So to slide into a nearly-bottom shelf single malt could've been a huge failure. But it was exceedingly charming, especially considering the price point.

I've banged on this drum countless times, but I'll never pass up an opportunity to say it again and again: whisky freaks need to ADJUST THEIR EXPECTATIONS. When I say this is charming, I don't mean compared to a $350 bottle of the Dalmore's King Alexander III or a similarly-priced Glenmorangie Signet or whatever boutique bourbon is going for $200 these days. I mean if you're looking for a pleasant every day sipper, this is something for which you should be exceedingly appreciative.

The nose opens up super-sweet, leading with milk chocolate, honey, and caramel. That rounds out with an apple and pear fruitiness, layered with a strong undercurrent of smoke.

The palate entry is soft and thin, but very palatable and smooth. A touch of chocolatey sweetness is quickly overwhelmed by new spirit burn and ashy peat. There is some grainy cereal, coffee notes, oak spice and a vague nuttiness. It also has a bit of grassiness and a citrus zest zing. The finish is predictably short but unimpeachable while it sticks around.

The Ardmore is a $40 single malt, but it’s probably the best goddamn $40 single malt you’ll ever have. It kicks your McClelland’s, your Singleton, your Speyburn, your Ainsley Brae straight in the dick hole. It deserves to appear late in the advent, and it will surely impress some people who come into the 23rd with low expectations.

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Irish whisky (yes, I’m leaving the ‘e’ off it, suck it, I don’t care) often gets a bum rap as a softer cousin of Scotch, never mind the fact that the Irish were doing distillation first. There’s been a distinct lack of variety by comparison, but the category is expanding significantly every year. The Sextant, Glendalough, Teeling, Kilbrin, Slane, and others simply didn’t exist even five or so years ago. Existing brands like Jameson, Redbreast, Yellow Spot, and even stalwarts like Tullamore Dew are adding new and experimental products to their range. Which is great, because I am all about trying the new things.

But stalwart brands don’t deserve to be overlooked just because they’re familiar. Labels like Glenfiddich and Jameson and Jim Beam might blend into the shelf but they’re worth revisiting once in a while. Sometimes things are popular for a reason.

Connemara has been around a long time, and given that it is a bit of an outlier it might not jump out. Unlike a lot of Irish whisky, it is both peated and a single malt. And it’s a terrific bridge between Scotch and Irish styles for people looking to venture outside their comfort zone. 

True to stereotypes, it is smooth as a waxed otter. The nose is surprisingly complex, with some slight oak notes, an earthen, heathery potpourri and subtle peat forming the backbone. Frankly there's also something vaguely unpleasant in the mix, medicinal and briny; maybe lemongrassy vinegar? Yeast, even? It's weird. But it doesn’t take over, it augments the rest. 

Thankfully that latter bit doesn’t carry over to the palate. There’s a clean and refreshing entry, light and honeyed oak ushering in a graceful, soft-yet-strong peat smoke. It’s a vegetal peat, with lots of grassy and floral tones lending an earthy quality. That’s followed with gingery spiciness that tingles the lips. It’s a long finish for an Irish, with the peat hanging on the tongue until a sweet, creamy hint of chocolate peeks through.

Sound like an Irish? Hell no it doesn’t. But it is, and it could be the one you’re looking for. Thanks, Kensington Wine Market!

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A 10 for the 10th! I see what you did there, Kensington Wine Market. Laphroaig is sort of the definitive “love it or leave it” peated scotch. It’s got an iodiney, medicinal peat that really turns some people off. Somehow, it’s the best selling Islay single malt in the world, an island best known for it’s higher-than-average use of peat in its Scotch production. 

Now, I like Laphroaig, but that is just absolute bollocks. Laphroaig is unique, of course, but most of the Islay distilleries are. And if you ask me, the definitive list of Islay distilleries is as follows:

1. Caol Ila Perhaps the most consistently flawless distillery there is anywhere. It flies under the radar as a single malt, but I’ve had eight unique variations, from the standard 12 year old to an independently-bottled 28 year old, with special editions and unpeated versions in between, and I’ve never had one that wasn’t just short of perfect. You truly can’t go wrong.

2. Lagavulin After spending ages as a one-note 16 year old with only occasional ‘official’ releases outside of it, Diageo has been mucking about the last few years with different age statements. They’re pricey, but if you can find one you can afford it’s a real treat. It’s placement here is a testament to the adage that if you do one thing, do it as well as you can.

3. Bruichladdich If you’d asked me even five years ago I probably would’ve said this was my favourite distillery anywhere. The newly-resurgent Jim McEwan era was when I was just starting to explore whisky in a serious way, and after some startlingly-good experiences that I probably didn’t even appreciate appropriately at the time (multiple bottles of the 16 year old George T. Stagg barrel finish, a 17 year old rum barrel, the Octomore 4.2, the greatest whisky I’ve ever had) I was buying every ‘laddie I could find. I’ve still had some great bottles from them, but they seem to be disappearing up their own assholes the last couple years and are basically inaccessible in Saskatchewan. Maybe if someone starts bringing them in again I’ll be reminded of the old days.

4. Bunnahabhain One of the few unpeated Islays, Bunnas are consistently salty, funky, nutty, and oily. Those are all good things, I promise. 

5. Ardbeg Ardbeg created one of the most celebrated whiskies ever, the much-debated Uigeadail, one of my top three whiskies. That alone would be enough to let them skate to the middle of the pack, but they also manage to create a wide range of subtle flavours under their unique cloud of smoke. From budget NAS bottles to unique one-off releases, you can count on it being interesting if nothing else.

6. Kilchoman A relative youngster, Kilchoman combines young spirit and some of the most shockingly-brash smoke I’ve ever seen in a whisky. They’re never the same way twice, but they’re strong in every possible way and the flavours are jump-out-of-your mouth aggressive.

7. Bowmore Bowmore is good! In my experience, however, better than average can sometimes still be a bit on the unremarkable side. I’m not a huge fan of their medicinal brand of peat, so that probably has something to do with it. 

8. Laphroaig They’re fine. Really. 

I’m not counting Ardnahoe, since it only came into being in 2018 and, as far as I know, hasn’t put anything out yet.  These are obviously very personal distinctions, but I’m pretty sure they’re the empirically correct calls. 

Anyway, the Laphroaig 10 is probably a good introduction to what they have to offer. The nose is redolent of smoke, iodine, honey and apple sweetness, and cereal grain. The tongue is middling-sweet with ashy clouds of smoke, long and lingering. The cereal notes are nearly as strong. There’s not much else going on but it’s very nice! But if you’re going to try a Laphroaig that doesn’t break the bank, go for the Quarter Cask. Aside from the Lore (which is phenomenal, but grotesquely over-priced) it’s the best one I’ve tried so far.

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Oh, you waxy lil’ bastard. 

Day 8 of Kensington Wine Market’s whisky advent is the wheaty, waxy Maker’s Mark bourbon. You have to love a brand that commits; even the mini bottles have the distinctive, excessively-waxed seal that adorns their standard bottles. Thankfully they come with a handy pull tab to get it off of there. And unlike certain French-bottled whiskies (I’m looking at you, Michel Couvreur) it won’t crumble into a trillion tiny grains that you find all over your damn kitchen for the rest of the week. 

Come to think of it, I’ve had the pleasure of unwaxing a few different bottles. Maker’s, sure, both big and little. But it has nothing on Garrison Brothers bourbons, which come in a variety of colours and a much smaller pull tab. While I haven’t been the owner, I’ve been present when two bottles of Michel Couvreur’s beguilingly-difficult-to-open monstrosities. Knob Creek uses a pretty tricky black wax. 

There are other neck adornments as well, like Longmorn’s old distinctive metal tag. But nothing beats a wax. And Maker’s is the king of the wax seal when it comes to liquor; it even won a lawsuit against Cuervo when one of its brands used a red wax. 

Of course, Maker’s also has a distinctive mash bill for a bourbon, leaning on a recipe that includes a healthy portion of wheat. Wheat can add a softer, sweeter element to a bourbon, and in Maker’s Mark that sets it off nicely.

The nose is unique, with cinnamon and mint jumping out ahead of a bit of ginger heat. There’s a note of dusty wheat chaff and almond, along with a deeply unexpected hint of strawberry.

On the palate, typical vanilla and honey flavours strike first, but oak, cinnamon and spices add some character. The finish is pleasantly warming, with an odd combo of black tea bitterness and something hinting at bubblegum, perhaps? It shouldn’t work, but it does.

Maker’s is very popular for a reason, of course. It’s pleasant in every form and makes a decent cocktail. Is it the most adventurous wheated whisky? Probably not. I had the pleasure of enjoying an entire bottle of spring wheat whisky from the almost-certainly defunct Montana Roughstock distillery that was truly unprecedented. But if you’re in the mood for a gentle bourbon, get at it. 

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It’s entertaining to read whisky review sites and look at dorks reviewing on Reddit. So many whisky drinkers are certain that either single malts are inherently better than blends or that entry-level single malts are undrinkable compared to the niche provenance releases from Bruichladdich or the travel retail-only offerings from every major label. 

That’s all well and good, if not entirely predictable. The reality is that people need to adjust their expectations to what they’re consuming. It’s insane to directly compare a Famous Grouse to a Glenmorangie Signet. They’re obviously not peers. But to call a cheap whisky bad because it’s not as good as the best whisky is to entirely miss the point.

I love buying blends. I love cheap Canadian whiskies, to a point. A really good blend that costs $32 is just as satisfying to me as a transcendent bottle that costs $250. 

The Speyburn 10 is not the Shakespeare of whisky, but holy hell, if you’re looking for an easy drinking daily dram at a beyond-reasonable price this is it. Coming in a full $15-20 cheaper than my favourite entry level single malts (say, for example, 12 year old Old Pulteney, anCnoc, or Auchentoshen) and delivering a truly satisfying experience, this is definitely worth at least one try. It might even become a staple, as it punches well above its price point.

The nose is pleasant but not simple, bringing a slight oakiness, sweet red grapefruit, stewed apples, apricot, lemon zest, hint of cinnamon, dusty, brown sugar, the vaguest hint of smoke, and a downright lovely floral note.

Once sipping commences, the overwhelming taste is nutty. All sorts of nuts, really. It’s a friggin’ trail mix up in this piece. There is sweet and fruit elements as well, with honey, a hint of raisin and apricot. There’s a bracing salinity, as well as warming ginger and cinnamon. Moving through to the finish, a raft of baking spices, ashy smoke, bitter oak, and tobacco roll through. 

It’s a lot more than I expected, that’s for sure. While this may be a bargain bottle, don’t let the bargain part escape your attention. You could do a lot worse than this for a lot more money. Lord knows I have!

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When life hands you lemons, at least there’s still whisky.

A week ago today I was informed that my contract would not be renewed and I will be jobless after the year’s end. That’s kind of a bummer, but it wasn’t totally expected, given the political nature of my work. But even when you think you’re prepared for such a thing you can still be thrown way off balance when the dismissal process is nothing short of brutally inhumane. 

Consequently it has also been the longest week of my life. From commiserating with my fellow dismissees to some minor wallowing in self-pity to exorcising demons via a violent video game to getting support from all around me and finding a short-term bit of work to keep some money coming it, pretty much everything has happened in a few short days. But leave it to my lovely wife to turn everything around with an early Christmas present. 

Despite not living in Calgary, I’ve previously enjoyed Kensington Wine Market’s annual whisky advent calendar. They always go all-out and make sure to include some very interesting samples. I’ll be attempting once again to blog along each day, because it’s fun!

This Zuidam/Millstone cask strength/single barrel 100% rye is a wild ride, and not just because it’s a bonkers beverage. The last time I was able to hang out with my Scotch-drinking pals one of them brought the Millstone 100 Rye to the party. I did not like it! It had some overwhelming soap, rocks, bubble gum, and rubber hose notes. It was weird, baby! So I approached this first advent offering, which is an exclusive KWM bottling, with some trepidation.

It wasn’t the same, but it also wasn’t your typical whisky. It seemed almost more like a heavily-oaked gin than a whisky. The nose is shot through with pine tree, juniper, orange pith, and potting soil, along with a whole cabinet of spices. Much of that carries over to the tongue, which hits hard with a lot of alcohol burn, warming all the way through to the end. There’s a heap of dill, cloves, cinnamon, ginger, bitter almond, and oak. There’s a real strong gin presence as well, like it was mixed right in with the rye. 

This was a real trip! It could make for some very interesting cocktails, but I probably won’t be rushing to grab ahold of a bottle for myself. However, if you’ve tried just about everything else under the sun, take it for a spin! If nothing else, it’s a unique experience.

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One of the best parts about the Kensington Wine Market whisky advent calendar is the truly unique conclusion: a super-size offering from the Scotch Malt Whisky Society.

A group that purchases casks and distributes product as an independent bottler, its products are typically only available to the members whose dues fund their operations. It is a worldwide operation that releases a series of new single cask bottlings every month -- all with whimsical names and a number substitution system that keeps the originating distillery 'secret' in order to keep the purchase price lower. The catch is not only that you have to be a member to buy them, however; there are also only four retail locations in Canada that sell bottles.

Is it worth all that trouble? They generally don't price their bottles on the cheap; the average sale price for the current outturn as of this writing is about $165, as far as my meager mathematics can tell.

Still...it might be.

This bottle pictured here is the third SMWS I've gotten my hands on, all through the Kensington advent. The first was in the 2015 edition, a 59.9% ABV beauty of a 10 year-old Bowmore dubbed 'Islay Beach Scene.' I wrote about it at the time and it was pretty fawning...but for a good reason.

The second was courtesy the good grace of my friend AJ, who split his with me last year. The 'Smoky, Salty, Sweet Porridge' was a nine year-old Bunnahabhain, aged in a refill ex-bourbon barrel and swinging a 61.2% ABV. The nose opened salty and smoky, with honey and vanilla sweetness and leather and nut adding depth. While it seems smokier than other Bunnahabhains, that smoke isn’t all-encompassing, and the whole nose is really well balanced. The palate was reminiscent of tannic white wine, but with a sharp alcohol sting. A heavy dose of salt helps cut through strong vegetal peat and ash. Water makes the whole thing easier to handle, but the notes are similar. It was not terrifically complex, but it was perfectly delicious.

So this third one had pretty high expectations attached, heightened every further because this is the first proper Miltonduff I've had (I did try a Samaroli blended malt a few years ago that combined Miltonduff and Tormore). 'A Wonderful Welcome' is a seven year-old at 62.2% ABV.

And it is reeeeaaaaal pretty. Grassy and floral on the nose, but also buttery like a croissant next to buttered popcorn. It's also fruity and vegetal, with vanilla, lemon peel, honey, pear, parsley and cilantro just buzzing around like it's no big thing. The audacity! On the palate there's about a thousand different flavours: lemon pepper, herbs, mango, vanilla, wine gums, peach, and chilli pepper heat come in waves. Towards the finish there's plenty of cayenne, lemon pepper, and a bunch of heat on the finish. Water ramps down the heat very well, and brings out more herbs, which is not a flavour family that you see in a lot of whiskies. It's easily one of the most complex I've ever tried.

Given all the money in the world I would probably move to the back room at Kensington Wine Market and buy every bottle of every outturn, but that's a flight of fancy that will never come to pass. I'll settle for hopefully being able to keep trying them once in a blue moon whenever possible.

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While this isn't a bottle that will turn a ton of heads, I was actually really happy to see the Loch Lomond 12 year-old pop up as the penultimate whisky in the 2020 Kensington Wine Market whisky advent calendar. Loch Lomond is a distillery I've seen on store shelves for quite some time but I've never felt compelled enough to pull the trigger on a purchase. It's typically priced in the $80-85 range in Saskatchewan, which is on a bit of a tipping point; it's expensive enough to represent a bit of a risk proposition, but not high enough to dismiss it outright.

Technically I have tried one Loch Lomond; several years ago, a 10 year-old Croftengea that was part of the third edition of the Secret Spirits Scotch Whisky Advent Calendar. Croftengea is the nom de plume that Loch Lomond drops on its peated spirit; typically it's sunk into blends, though it was briefly subject to a single malt bottling. But it isn't a name I've seen come up in independent bottlings very often. Issued by independent bottler Single Cask Nation, that Croftengea (cask #486 if you're a true head) was unexpectedly beguiling. The nose was reminiscent of pulled pork in a sweet, smoky barbecue sauce, with a bizarre hint of caramelized carrot and a touch of pineapple. The tongue was meaty in its own right, moving into a crispy bacon-like meatiness once I waded through a slightly medicinal, vaguely-rubbery smokiness. It had a tangy sting at an ABV of 55.6%, but retained the tropical fruit sweetness present on the nose. Despite that ABV, it wasn't crying out for water (though a few drops smoothed out the alcohol burn and the smoke).

But the Loch Lomond is unpeated, which means it exists in an entirely different world. That was apparent from the jump; while the nose has an umami meatiness, notes of walnut, orange oil, dusty oak, and coconut were much more apparent. On the palate the orange oil and nuttiness dominate, with chocolate and vanilla sweetness as well. The peat represents as ash and smoke, clouding an emerging spiciness and a mellifluous minerality.

It was not what you might expect in a typical single malt, but its a highly-unique spirit that is worth checking out. Considering I've stared at a couple different bottlings for longer than anyone probably should without grabbing one up, this was a real learning opportunity. And I am here for it!

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The last thing I expected on day 22 of the Kensington Wine Market whisky advent calendar was another offering from That Boutique-y Whisky Company. After the previous day’s mind-meltingly interesting Strathclyde, expectations are high!

I’ve always been a fan of Bunnahabhain, although like a lot of Islays it is not abundantly available here in Saskatchewan. Over the years I’ve managed to get my hands on my fair share of them: the entry-level 12 year-old, the stand-out 18 year-old, a 25 year-old, and a terrific 28 year-old single cask. They’ve been uniformly delicious, with a surprising variance in flavours. 

I can’t say that this brash bottling trumps them all, but it’s close. At 50.5% ABV and 10 years in the barrel, it’s young and lighter than the other three TBWC offerings in this calendar. But the flavour is almost shockingly aggressive, in a good way.

On the nose there’s plenty of honey, salty caramel, and vanilla custard. That sweetness is augmented with a ton of fruit: green apple, lime, raisin, apricot, and coconut. There’s also some lovely almond adding depth.

The palate is simply gorgeous! Salty and peppery up front, in a very interesting way. Some of the fruit carries over from the nose, namely pears and green grape skins. Sherry spices and the slightest hint of peat smoke come through eventually, with macadamia nuts, salt and malt, and cinnamon also coming into play towards the finish.

Is it the most complex whisky of all time? Probably not, but every element that comes into play works so well together the quality is simply undeniable. It is the definition of a spirit being more than the sum of its parts. It really is so, so good!

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Holy moses. This was so fucking good and cool and good.

Saskatchewan never sees single grain whiskies, let alone super-aged ones. So a gift like this in the Kensington Wine Market whisky advent is really something. This advent already had the 27 year-old Cambus, also from That Boutique-y Whisky Company, which was an extremely interesting bottle. I also had the extreme pleasure of experiencing an insanely-old 46 year-old Invergordan at a Bushwakker scotch tasting event a very long time ago. Basing only on these three examples, I think I can safely say that well-aged single grains are very interesting! Especially this Strathclyde.

Strathclyde is a nearly-100 year-old distillery that has been making only grain whisky since 1975. As a part of the Pernod Ricard portfolio, it feeds blends like the Chivas line and Royal Salute. Which are...fine, for what they are. But with output like this they could make a real effective go of it releasing this stuff on their own. 

Because, you guys, this shit is wild. But i don’t know if I can describe it in a way that will really get that point across.

The nose is a wild amalgam of wood glue (I know, what?), banana, grapefruit, vanilla, wet leaves, honey and butter on toast, coconut, and sawdust. Half of that doesn’t make sense, I agree. But the longer it sits the more surprising elements emerge.

It hits the tongue all sweet and spicy, with a surprising amount of body. True to the name, it is very grainy, with strong chocolate and honey up front contrasting with slightly bitter oak and spice. Grapefruit pith leads to a building, spicy heat, tempered by sweet vanilla cream and brown sugar. Eventually you get to a long finish with pepper and oak dominating.

This truly was a glass that had it all. It goes in every possible direction, including a bunch of stuff I would have never expected. What a singular treat!

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I hate red wine cask finished whiskies.

I mean, nothing in this world is truly black and white and nothing is truly for certain, but I really do. Aside from a single exception, they just do not work for me at all. 

Thankfully it’s not a style that’s pervasive. Sherry finishes are much more common, and usually I like them well enough. After more than one dram, however, I often find them to have gotten excessively bitter or cloying, but the character they bring is often worth it.

If any distillery could potentially change my mind, though, it’s Balblair. I wrote earlier in this Kensington Wine Market whisky advent calendar run-down about how much I love Balblair, and this is my first experience with their new age statement line.

For the most part, every Balblair I’ve had is aged in bourbon casks. This is only the second I’ve experienced that includes a sherry-finished product. It’s 18 years old and sits at a healthy 46% ABV. 

The sherry influence isn’t obvious at first, as the nose falls in line with other bourbon-aged Balblairs. There’s a slight alcohol punch at first, but the fruit follows thereafter: apple crisp and vanilla ice cream, pear, pineapple, and orange peel all emerge in turn. There are also hints of cocoa, candle wax, and a tiny hint of sherry spice.

The sherry attacks on the tongue, warm and rich, with cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger and pepper. Theres’s plenty of honey, fig, cocoa, and brown sugar rounding out the palate. 

It's very good! Balblairs always are. But I have to admit I prefer the straight bourbon barrel finishes. It seems to be to be a better and truer expression of their house spirit. But this was delicious nonetheless!

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We got more peated Islay for day 19 of the Kensington Wine Market advent calendar! 

Bowmore lies out on the storied island of smoke, a place that people tend to have antiquated notions about. I should know better, but for some reason Bowmore has always struck me as something of an old-timey brand; they don’t have the dizzying schedule of limited releases Bruichladdich boasts or the seemingly-endless reimagining of their core lineup of the Macallan. Like the Glenfarclas we looked at a week or two ago, they seem to mostly stick to their lane and chug along, leaving innovation and reinvention to others. 

Fitting the Islay stereotypes, they lean to the ashy side of peat, which I generally prefer. I’ve tried pretty much their entire range (the ones an average Joe can afford, that is) from the old NAS Legend up to the 18 year old. Unlike some distilleries, they improve significantly with age, and there’s a fairy lovely floral quality to some of their bottlings that you don’t always see, especially with peated or sherried whiskies, of which this 12 year old is both. It’s a slightly-elevated 43%, which seems to serve a younger batch well. 

For a 12 year old it has some nice, complex vibes. It’s definitely earthy, with a bit of grassiness, and a hint of early grey tea. The smoke is obviously a strong presence, but so is a hint of iodine, offset with vanilla, oak, honey, orange, and a manly hint of leather.

That translates to a varied nose: the earthiness presents with a hint of dirt and grass, along with some earl grey tea. The sweet comes in the form of some green apple, a hint of orange, and vanilla. All of that is enrobed with a pleasantly-ashy smoke that weaves its way in and out through the finish. 

A varied and nuanced 12 year old to be certain!

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aGlenAllachie belongs to a stable of distilleries with inexplicable capitalization in the midst of their name. Most of them age their whisky in sherry barrels, and most of them are pretty good! On day 18 of the Kensington Wine Market whisky advent calendar, I learned if GlenAllachie is up to snuff.

I've only tried GlenAllachie as offered by a couple of independent bottlers, namely Samaroli and AD Rattray. Both typically have extremely good products on offer, but both of the Allachie's I've tried have been underwhelming. The Samaroli version, part of the 4th Scotch Whisky Advent Calendar (a different product which has evidently been halted by its creators maybe turning out to be illegal bootleggers?) was practically scent-free with a scorching alcohol burn, and disappointingly mild taste. The AD Rattray variant in the third SWAC was somewhat better, slightly fruity on the nose, overpoweringly strong ABV, and hot pepper heat. It was weird. On the whole, the two were wildly divergent and largely unsatisfying.

I am sad to say that this one doesn't quite deliver either.

I would expect a 15 year old bottling to be a pretty solid expression of a house style. For some distilleries, it’s the fulcrum after which the product becomes over-oaked and less satisfying (Glenfiddich, I’m looking at you). In the case of GlenAllachie, you’re offered a huge, intriguing nose but all the palate is devoid of any aggression or individuality. The nose is replete with dark chocolate, leather, caramel, nutmeg, fresh blackberry and cranberry, and a vaguely perfumey florality. It’s pretty wild! But on the tongue it’s much lighter than you’d expect from the colour and nose. Honey and spices (cinnamon and clove) dominate, with a thin wine note, a touch of dark cherry, and orange peel adding some roundness. It’s slightly warming, with ginger and a tingly heat. The finish has some sweet berries and hot tingles.

In some ways it’s worse than the independent versions; at least they had some gusto, some verve, some swing-for-the-fences boldness. 

Nice try though, GlenAllachie!

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I like nothing more than when a distillery allows you to see both sides of the coin. 

Earlier in the Kensington Wine Market advent we had the very smoky Ledaig (https://prairiescotch.tumblr.com/.../i-mentioned-the-peat... for a refresher) — Tobermory is the unpeated version, both produced by the same distillery!

And yes, they’re like night and day. As you may have guessed if you’ve been through our archives, Tobermory has a light, beautifully fruity nose. Fresh and robust, a bed of malt supports pear, green apple, peeled orange, honey, vanilla, dusty leather, a hint of brown sugar, and springtime flowers. 

Despite that beauty, it is just as assertively flavourful on the tongue — but without the smoke. Surprisingly robust from the first sip, it brings a ton of fruit and salt instead of peat. Not nearly so light as the nose, it is oily and salty, with an earthy minerality, lots of malt and heaps of fruit. The sweetness is rounded out with vanilla and caramel, and orange peel, white pepper, salty nuts, and a hint of bitter spice characterize the drying finish. And that finish has got bars, in the vernacular of our times; it goes and goes and is delightful the whole way along.

I feel like both Tobermory and Ledaig are overlooked in the single malt category, though I’m never sure if that’s actually true or if it’s simply the result of the fairly abysmal job Saskatchewan liquor stores do of bringing in new and different products. Either way, I would strongly consider recommending it to anyone looking for a lesser-known scotch for their bar.

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I've had mixed results from the Isle of Jura distillery in the past, and the inclusion of a unicorn version of it is as good a reason as any to really dive into it!

The first time I tried a Jura it was the standard 10 year-old bottling, and it did not impress. It started on a down note with the nose, which hit largely with a strong alcohol burn; a little patience and caution brought out some prominent oak and soft cereal, a floral overtone and a hint of smokiness. The palate brought slightly more peat smoke up front than expected, with a very nice salty caramel and pepper balancing each other out. There’s some slight honey buried deep in the mix, and the finish is long and peppery and beautiful. It goes a long way from a nose-wrinkling introduction through a mild middle to a stunning ending; it’s not enough to make it an all-around stunner, though.

A friend had always spoken glowingly about the Superstition, Jura’s NAS peat-bomb version. It never really grabbed me though! Each time I’ve had it the nose has been largely one-note, mostly just pervasive campfire smoke with occasional wafting hints of caramel and fruit. There’s not much going on when it hits the tongue either: harsh alcohol sting despite carrying only a 43% ABV, very peaty (but more subtle than I remembered in subsequent tastings) and caramel. That’s it! It’s not very interesting!

The Prophecy is allegedly the real heavy-hitter when it comes to peat; I even tried it at a tasting event pitched as ‘The Monsters of Peat.’ And thank goodness I did, because it’s also the most complex and well-rounded, and frankly the best! The nose has a bit more going on, with honey, sea salt, and campfire marshmallows underpinning an unexpectedly light smoke. The palate is similarly sweet and smokey: honey, tropical fruit, and sugar cookie clashing with a very strong mix of ashy smoke and vegetal peat. The finish is exquisite and outstanding, running on forever with that mixture of sweet and smokey rolling over and over and over. 

Most recently I had a chance to try the 18 year-old expression, which paled in comparison to the company with which I tasted it. It was definitely the biggest outlier in the bunch, with an earthy and sweet nose that showcases the red wine influence of its finishing cask, with some slight smoke and spice rounding it out. The rest was not quite so impressive, with the palate laced with acrid wood and spices, sweet toffee, pepper, and of course some strong smoke. It crests with a bitter finish that was fairly unpleasant, although that’s a common complaint of mine with red wine finishes.

Aside from the Prophecy, I wouldn’t really recommend any of them, and sadly even the Prophecy costs well more than its worth. But the independently-bottled 20 year-old sitting in the 16th slot of the KWM advent is a thing of subtle beauty that serves as a great reminder of how important it is to branch out to independents and see how they serve the whisky differently.

It’s a finesse whisky to be certain, despite an elevated ABV at 48.2%. The nose is marked by sweetness, thanks to tropical fruits like pineapple and cantaloupe, toffee, honey, and Jolly Rancher candies. There’s an earthy note like freshly-fallen leaves, dusty oak, and tobacco. The palate is unexpectedly salty and nutty, with sesame seeds, honey-coated nuts of some type, leather, wood, and just a hint of vegetal peat smoke. The finish is similarly nutty, sweet, and salty. 

As seems to be the case with That Boutique-y Whisky Company, this really takes you on a journey. It really defies the standard Jura flavour profile and does it with a hefty body and a subtle elegance. I'm pretty sure it's also expensive as hell. Unlike the Prophecy, however, it might be worth it!

[prairiescotch]

Day 15 of the Kensington Wine Market brought another KWM exclusive, and the first Canadian whisky of the calendar. Shelter Point is a Vancouver distillery, but this isn’t their product. At 11 years old, it pre-dates the distillery, which means it was bought from Alberta Distillers (the geniuses behind my favourite bargain rye, Alberta Premium) at five years old and aged for six more. And it is a weird and wild banger.

A while back I had my first Shelter Point, purchased in Winnipeg at an MLCC outlet. It was one of their single malt releases and tastes like it: the nose was big and malty, showing lots of grain, honey, lemon zest, the tiniest hint of menthol, a touch of coconut, and a bit of saltwater taffy. Fruit and grain lead the way on the tongue, with green apple and pear, leading into a pretty strong chocolate note. After a spell it got spicy, with a bit lemon-pepper toward the finish and a touch of salted nuts and that hint of menthol from the nose. Pretty complex for a relatively young Canadian single malt!

As for this advent release, this bottle was drawn from cask #346, if that means anything to anyone, and has an ABV of 58.8% -- although it hits like a 65%, making it the second day in a row I’ve had one of the most aggressive whiskies of my life! Unsurprisingly, it’s a world apart from the single malt.

The nose practically rushes out of the glass, with burnt sugar, old teabags, cinnamon, vanilla ice cream, ginger, and dill pickle chips comprising one of the weirdest collections of scents I’ve had the opportunity to witness.

On the tongue it gets even more aggressive. Once again, I nearly spit it out, it was so overwhelming. It’s heavy on the sweet, but also brings a ton of heat: red hot candy, ginger, and hot peppers, namely. But there’s also vanilla, bitter oak, burnt brown sugar, liquorice, leather, and tobacco clove. It’s heavy, with so many dense flavours, it’s hard to parse.

In short...it’s okay, if you don’t mind being challenged. This is definitely a unique rye, and maybe a whisky unlike any other. For intrepid souls only!