“The nose is nothing if not Fuji apples sautéed in ghee on woodblocks once used by Hokusai for printmaking. They are served with a tall glass of wheat grass juice, no ice.” So said Bill within seconds of nosing this venerable spirit. Naturally we urged him to be more specific.
But Bill is right. The nose is beautiful and balanced, just as we’d expect. A buttermilk biscuit cut open while still hot and slathered with an orange marmalade made sharp and tangy by the spirals of orange rind suspended in it like squiggly mitochondria. A promise of sherry hovers in the air as well.
The mouth carries the impeccable balance of this whisky forward, like an eager porter taking your bags as if along a pre-programmed route across the floor of the hotel to the elevator. Coin-purse leather, jonquil petals, and a popsicle stick unwisely used as a bookmark at the Beinecke. The sherry settles in at the head of the table, to be sure, but generously passes all of the dishes before serving itself.
The finish is a delight: contrails of vanilla in an azure sky, peppered greens, buttery bib lettuce, honey from crab apple shrubs. It is graceful. It is discreet. But I’m tempted to register the complaint that the finish is brisk, though perhaps that’s just a measure of my enjoyment of it. So perhaps I shall say that it’s a session whisky. You want to keep drinking, and the whisky repays that desire with fascination and delight.
The The Macallan Fine Oak 15 is goats--Boy, I wish I’d used my Bitcoin hoard to buy those goat-meme futures back in 2011 when I had the chance. Right now goats are blowing up the interwebs and threatening to dethrone the multi-year sinecure of cats. There’s even dueling LOLgoats webpages. All of which is to say, even the stately and venerable can ascend, and that is what we have here.
--Our thanks to Jackie Connetti and the Edrington Group for the sample!