[This is the fourth of many shorter reviews we're posting on current Scotch Malt Whisky Society offerings (and we're keepin' it real with some Lo-Mob photographic effects). More details at the beginning of this other post. If you want to find out more about the SMWS or their bottlings, you should visit www.smws.com]
Wonderfully winey on the nose, like a Sonoma dump bucket just after the limos have exited the vineyard’s gates. Wet hay, soaked in wine, as though a drunk ostler had upended his “decanter”—in this case, a worn pommel holster that said ostler long ago lined with lacquer to prevent it from leaking or soaking into the leather—whilst chasing a stable girl. There are also hints of the wood cork our ostlericious friend had earlier in the day yanked from a dusty bottle with his teeth just before “decanting” it. On the mouth, this expression transforms to something like a cranberry liqueur—or better, a lingonberry ice wine from Sweden, complete with a pair of reindeer carved into its tall, thin, and otherwise overly mod bottle. Then comes a long, prickly finish. On the upper palate, it’s spongy yet full, like a Nerf™ ball inserted into your sinuses. Meanwhile, on the tongue, it’s pāhoehoe-esque, coating your mouth in smooth, undulating molten-ness that warms and reassures and leaves your feet intact, unlike normal lava.
The SMWS 30.68 is a free-range farm in Guadalajara—Why? Because there’s bacon there! Duh!