Recently, I filled up my first Whisky Notebook, and glancing back through it makes fascinating reading for my own progress towards connoisseurship. I ask myself: how much better am I at finding flavours and judging quality now than I was then? Are my first fifteen or so tasting notes something that should not be shared with the outside world? It is interesting to reflect on these, especially the last one, because I needed those first fifteen. I might not have extracted a lot of flavours, but they were essential for the purposes of creating a consistent methodology for all tastings, as well as giving me a foundation in regional styles courtesy of some of the best distilleries from those regions. Tastings may not have been regular, but I could judge whiskies against and further refine my own tastes and begin developing opinions.
In answer to the first question, the next few posts will be revisions of some of my beginner malts - those that I still have in the cupboard. Therefore, I am throwing consistency as far as my posts go out of the window (quite a jump from Dram #45 back to Dram #17) in order to gauge how far I've come as far as tasting is concerned, and also show how my perceptions of the industry in general have been gradually informed.
REVISION OF DRAM #5, ORIGINALLY TASTED 11/4/08
Seduced by honey,
The whisky I was promised
Toasts the end of stress.
The Balvenie interests me a great deal. When presented with a bottling, I have already tasted it mentally and spiritually before the cork has even left the bottle with that nose flute bass note, or the cap unscrewed from the miniature. There is a romantic resonance within me at the very mention of the distillery: The-Bal-ven-ee... I'm so shamelessly prejudiced.
As I mentioned in my Tormore post (another revision), this was, to begin with, Michael Jackson's fault, but once I had enjoyed the DoubleWood miniature substance harmonised with style.
I remember that I didn't see what all the fuss was about after the first nosing but I also recall that I had hardly chosen circumstances conducive to a successful tasting: work and dinner had preceeded my period with the snifter glass. The second tasting, however, resurrected and rendered unblemishable the Balvenie name. But things change - I have changed - so am I a more objective arbiter of this malt? I hoped not.
Original tasting note: COLOUR - Honey, amber gold. NOSE - Water brings out grapes (the whole fruit), peated stream water, Sherry sharpness. Delicious. Like how a ballgown moves. Grilled bacon?! Comfortable and beguiling. BODY - Sparkly highs and subtle lows. PALATE - Fragrant peat, coffee beans, chocolate, a burst of taste pre-finish of fruity pastries. Very defined. FINISH - Cheesecake base, medium length, bitter chocolate. Malty and sugary. Some tartness.
The marketing people, like those at The Dalmore, ought to be national heroes. I gained as much pleasure from gazing upon my bottle, bought to celebrate the conclusion of AS levels, when full as I have done once opened. They are just gorgeous bottles.
But to their contents. Rich honey to the eye prooves my claim at the beginning of this post that I don't need my nose or palate to guess at the complexion of a Balvenie. However, I find that I'm rarely disappointed when I employ those two olfactory mechanisms.
The full strength sample presents to the nose a very fresh, gentle maltiness that is glazed with Sherry. The Spanish influence continues with the discovery of charred Sherry wood. There is an even dusting of soft peat and good, round floral notes whose complexity makes this distillery such a terrific example of the Speyside style. Out of the Sherry, like a castle keep above its moat, thrusts a note of sweet vanilla.
With water I was initially worried. It became so light and fresh there was very little to hold on to. The dram seemed hollow within an indifferent ring of too-sweet wood and watery honey. But then a smooth, mousse-rich maltiness emerges. There is lots of delicious honey and a wisp of heather. Phew!
The palate is medium-weight with rounded lows and sparkly highs. Rich, spicy malt with a decent helping of peat and chocolate is in evidence. The malt becomes richer and darker, phasing in the Sherry fruit.
It finishes very well: vaguely orangey, flowery and sweet. There is a frothy wash of peat and a final grassy flavour.
This is delicious, although mood is essential. Sometimes the silky Sherry can be a touch overbearing and the whisky cannot assert itself. I still cannot work out the correct time for it, either. Rewards are plentiful, however, when you take the time to savour, explore and appreciate, something that the intervening year of practice has taught me to do!
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