The Dalmore 1263 King Alexander III 40% "One Sip Wonder"

Dusk on the Black Isle
Light enough to spy the dark
It runs with the stag.

Dusk is the perfect time for this mighty malt. However, with memories of how deeply affected I was when I tried it in broad daylight slow to fade, do so only if you aren't too unnerved by your own weeping.

Even before I selected this from behind the bar at the Scotch Whisky Experience, a romanticism for The Dalmore had been snowballing. In September of last year I sampled the 12-year-old, and it remains the highest-scoring Highland whisky in my notebook. Further exposure has had me entirely seduced on looks alone: those shapely bottles; that super-embossed stag of almost mythological charisma; the colour.

The 1263 is a rich dusky orange in the glass, but a belligerent, glowing, precious gem red in the bottle. In the geography of my mind (and the imagination is a powerful thing), sensuous shadows abound in the hills on one side of The Dalmore. It is warm there, still, and breathlessly mysterious. On the nose it is as if a storm front is rumbling in towards the Cromarthy Firth; soundless but thrillingly, physically powerful. The storm clouds themselves are berries: blackberries, strawberries, blueberries as well as blackcurrants, bloated raisins and sultanas and hot black grapes. They are sweet, laden with juice and seem eager to vent a deluge onto the medium-dry, rounded peat and biscuity malt. They never do, though. The joy is in the anticipation. The richness and depth is staggering with a soft, dark, vanilla wood presence. I shouldn't have added water for I experienced a repeat of the 12-year-old's problem, a flattening of the nose and an oppression of that berry complexity. It did allow other fruits to emerge - mango among them - as well as a gingernut maltiness of an intense rich sweetness. Soft petalled, bright flowers remained, but the atmosphere had sadly departed.

On the palate all was well: a sophisticated, mature richness prevailed. The malt was deep and floral while the Sherry wood was more multi-complexioned than anything I'd ever come across.

After it had all gone down, spicy cerealy malt hung around for some time, as did a rich creaminess.

With so much stimulation all about me I may have got slightly carried away with this dram. On the other hand, in the comparative calm of my own home, I did a bit of research into what I had drank and lost my head entirely. All of the fruit and wood flavours that had so floored me were attributable to no fewer than six eclectic sources: Bourbon barrels, Sherry casks, Madeira drums, Port pipes, Marsala barrels and French wine casks. Richard Paterson, I doff my hat to you for combining such personalities so wondrously. Actually, I think I'll just doff £125 to you (is cash alright?). Perhaps not quite just at the moment, but it is not an excessive price to pay for such genius which redefined whisky for me yet again, as well as justified beyond reproach the merits of unlikely wood finishes. I love you, Richard!