One interesting thing about these drinks is that they have a nifty little tasting note attached to the top, which makes this review easier and harder. I dont’ have to write my own notes down for the book sinc I can just copy them, but the pleasure of figuring it out is gone. Hmm… I’ll just drink it.

So the label says:

rich and spicy. Massive cloves, cinnamon and ginger, wood spices with raisings and other dark and drive fruits. Hints of sweetness. Spicy sensory sensation. Cheers!

Sounds good to me!

The smell of this whisky is very intense but not smoky, like sitting in a wood shop with a summer breeze blowing through it. Lots of woody, spicy notes, like the afformentioned sandalwood and spices (and cloves!). Oranges too and a hint of pear, a little whiff of liquorice.

Taste is pretty much as described, though with the problem of losing intensity very quickly towards the back of the mouth. Blends are always very “forward” like that. There’s a little bitterness, which I think might be the result of having sat in the bottle too long (so I’ll have to drink it all. Oh what a shame!) but it’s got a definite spicy note. Just like the label says. Each sip does pull the cut a little further to the back of the mouth but it still never quite gets there.

I’m a single malt fanatic, but I do quite like this whisky. Unfortunately Jon Mark and Robbo seem to have disappeared off the internet so I can’t be sure if they’re still in business. I suspect not.

A little different this time. We’ve got a Speyside here called “The Singleton”, a 12 year-old malt from non other than the legendary Dufftown. Simpsons fans will be delighted to know that Duff Whisky does in fact exist after a fashion.

Aaanyway, it’s nicely presented in a rather unusual flat bottle declaring its age, provenance and all that stuff. Standard whisky drivel really, they’re al the same, but the shape and the name make it a little bit special.

Uncork it and you’re assaulted with the label’s “fruity hints” for just a moment. The cork is nice and tight as they always are. I’m savouring this one a little more as it’s the first really different whisky I’ve tasted for a while. Now pour some out. Nice colour, not to much caramel but a rich golden hue that seems to mix with the appley scents to put me in mind of nothing less than apple brandy, oddly enough.

I’ve kept it sitting in front of me while I wrote the introduction and it’s been like sitting in an orchard at high summer. Getting a little bit away from the glass the nose is full of scents of apple blossom and fresh cut grass, and a hint of … well it brings to mind the days I spent climbing trees as a lad so it must be something from then. Cracked leather and freshly broken book spines complete the ensemble. Yes I know that’s a silly comparison but there you go.

A deeper nose gives me more earthy scents, warm stone and ancient, toasted appletree wood and mahogany. There’s a definite undertone of general fruitiness. Overall it does smell a lot like a brandy. Something like calvados? I’m not sure.

First taste is actually a little disappointing after all. It’s quite bitter, though perhaps I’ve just let it air a little bit too long. Applewood and nutmeg and a strong aftertaste of toasted pine. Or it tasted hot toasted pine looks, if you see what I mean. Subsequent tastings reveal a more subtle flavour of the ubiquitous apples (baking apples apparently), barley, hints of that fruity taste (loganberries and sour plums). It’s not exactly unpleasant at the start but it’s a little different, and it becomes sweeter as you go on. Otherwise it’s as smooth as its age belies and quite nice.

The scent of this one really raises your expectations, which are let down by the flavour, which is subtle and enjoyable after a moment or two, but which initially disappoints. A subsequent tasting, plus an experiment on the wife has confirmed that what I thought was a bitter overtone was actually more an absence of flavour. She said it was very light and sweet, and in retrospect I agree with her. I was tasting what I suspected rather than what was actually there which was – not surprisingly little, but very subtle. Having grown u sed to the bombastic punch of islays I’ve probably lost some of the sense for lighter, softer flavours speysides and lowlands provide.

UPDATE
After a second tasting I’ve decided that this is really a lot better than I’d originally thought. It’s incredibly light and sweet without being syrupy, rather like licking the aforementioned apples. Marvellous.

If you’re looking for something different this is it. The bottle stands out, it’s got an incredible nose and despite my previous negativity it actually tastes pretty good. Very smooth, light, not too sweet but sweeter than most. Despite this I wouldn’t recommend it for novices. The flavour would disappoint the unsubtle palette (or, as in my case, one that has been trained with the smoke and brimstone of Islay) and they might be put off after the more powerful and pungent common blends or sour mash american whiskies sold in pubs and bars.

Past everything else it still reminds me of a very slender brandy… it’s remarkable.

Anyway this one, the case it comes in is very attractive. Normally I just ignore the box, but they’ve gone to great lengths to make it look special. It’s all faux leather with stitching and buckles and badges, so very nice to look at by itself. There’s a bit of harking back to the supposed lost age in here I think…

Anyway, to the whisky itself. All glenlivets look the same to me, a rather fetching ruddy gold, but this one seems to be a little darker which I can only assume is down to the sherry casks they’ve used. European oak again. The box mentions cedarwood as an aroma but on top of that I can smell something spicy. Cloves, a little paprika. I can smell the cedar again now. Ahh, and after that there’s a hint of that sulphur but it seems to be hiding behind peardrops, oddly enough, and something that smells a little of aniseed. Veeery nice… just a tiny hint of apple.

Sulphur. Strange how it’s not an overpowering taste even though it’s definitely there. Of course nearly all taste is actually smell so it shouldn’t be a surprise, but that last little sensation in the mouth can make or break a whisky. I’m actually not that impressed with this one. It tastes a little heavier and a little, I guess, a little more bitter. There’s a lot of vanilla in the aftertaste and more of that aniseed. It’s very smooth, rolls down the throat nicely.

It would seem that glenlivet are attempting to hark back to the pre-war days of whisky, when the majority was matured in european sherry oak rather than american oak. I am impressed by the attempt, but I’m not quite so impressed by the result, which is a little heavy and oily for my tastes. I won’t knock them though; it’s a very fine whisky and I shall be attempting to keep a bottle of it in my collection for as long as it’s available.

No longer drink water exclusively, but use a little wine for the sake of your stomach – 1 Timothy 5:23

Alcohol played a large part in the life of the early church and, protestations of certain denominations and other adversarial religions to the contrary, it is something that should be cherished and considered a blessing.

Anyway. Today’s whisky is one called Ardbeg, which rather ostentatiously declares itself to be “the best whisky in the world” or some such rot. I can tell you right now it isn’t, but it is pretty good.

Ardbeg is a Islay, and obviously one. You can smell it the moment you open up the bottle, that distinct oak and burnt earth smell that seems so particular to Islays. The nose is a little smoother than Laphroaig, and a little less characterful in some ways, moreso in others. There’s hints of resin and freshly cut mahogany, which is probably the same thing…

The taste, too, is islay to the core. Again, it is smoother than Laphroaig and Lagavulin, but retains most of the characteristic bite of an Islay. It’s a little uneven on the pallate though; where the other two southern Islays will claw at your tongue and the roof of your mouth before rewarding you with the more generous aftertastes, Ardbeg tends to stick to your tongue and the back of your cheeks, and the aftertastes are a little less bitter than its two cousins, and less rewarding as a result. Otherwise it flows quite nicely down the throat, again with the characteristic cutting bite of an Islay. Definitely not a whisky to be casually approached. Ardbeg will probably best accompany a meal of salmon or trout, or even scampi at a pinch, and is best shared with others in a dimly lit room over a game of some sort, or after (or even during, if you have a flask) a long day of walking.

Overall, again, the drink is a little uneven, but it’s good enough if you want to keep the Islay taste but aren’t willing to stretch to the Lagavulin.

update 2007-08-27

On second tasting it seems my initial judgement was unfair. This drink is still not as good as the lag, but it’s much more rounded and full-bodied than I first gave it credit. The uneveness I tasted was probably exaggerated a little by the presence of some other flavours from another drink. Or maybe even the smell of my computer. Who knows?