Endings & Beginnigs

I finally got off my lazy busy butt and got my OWN REAL HOMEPAGE!
Any and all new spirited writings and reviews will be found here:

BEERAMBASSADOR.ME

See you there! ^_^

Bowmore Islay Legend

Color: copper and gold deep in the middle with lighter hues of sun-kissed straw and hay along the side.

Nose: salty smoke, seaweed, and a hint of iodine. Wet sod. Honey baked grains. Band-Aids. Pervasive smoke.

Palate: medium light weight, full in the middle with a fast finish. Salty smoke holds everything together. Sweet and dry golden hay. Leather in the back. Iodine mixed in salt and smoke in the breath, lingering long and growing Band-Aid notes. Simple but good.

Finish: salty smoke with a hard bite of iodine and Band-Aids underneath. Fast.

I had less than stellar expectations for the single-malts from Bowmore of Islay (pronounced “eye-la”) on the eastern shore of Loch Indaal, expectations which I should know by now are just plain silly. The Islay Legend is Bowmore’s core single-malt of no age denomination which, for me, is a first. Age denomination aside, she had plenty of flavor and classic Islay character to satiate. Everyone’s palate is different so flavors will weigh differently on each tasters palate, such as mine, where lemon zest was non-existent. The perennial sea salt, iodine, smoke, and leather were clean-cut and at full attention.
I loved it.
And I shouldn’t be surprised. Bowmore has been around since 1779. To add a touch of perspective, Bowmore has been around as long as the now United States of America, minus three years of course. Now that is touchable tasteable history – a dram timeless. With a Standard range that includes a 12, 15, 18, and 25 year, Bowmore also boasts a Travel Retail line of 5 different malts and a USofA specific range that boasts a whopping 10 different malts. The Islay Legend which I savored above shares her home with both Scotland and America, a mutual relationship of dram drinking burgundianism I would gladly savor daily were I given the opportunity.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Macallan 18 year

Color: deep polished garnets and coppers. Brilliant sparkling clarity. Liquefied precious gems.

Nose: stewed plums, apricots, and cherries. Chocolate truffle powder along the sides. Caramel apples. Honeycomb. Dried apricots and peaches. Sweet spicy heat in the back – like the sweet hot crackling heat of a fireplace.

Palate: swirls oily and thick, leaving tears that linger forlornly and lovingly. Dry and thin along the sides, sticky and full in the middle from first sup to last. Caramel apples and plums and apricots and cherries. Port and deep rich red wine – dry and tannic. Leather and orange oils. Warmed spiced liquid honeycomb. Spicy heat well-worn red wine soaked oak.

Finish: dry, spiced, and warming. Long lingering tannins. Dried fruits. Plum and cherry stones.

I stayed away from the Macallan during the early days of my single-malt journey for no other non-reason then the silliness of supposed “corporate big label macro mediocrity”. I should have known better, and now I do. The Macallan hasn’t been around for as long as she has, since 1824 to be exact, for everything and for just one thing – damn good single-malt. Embracing innovation and celebrating tradition, Macallan understands not to mess with what isn’t broken and to take what time and nature has given we simple human beings and to make it better than what it was before, even if just an itsy bitsy bit.
Make no bones: The Macallan is damn good.
When it comes to the far more commonplace 12 year I actually prefer Glenfiddich, but tis the luxurious 18 year I can and will prefer any day, any time. A humble and humbling spirit, her embrace took me to the storied lands of Scotland. Dram in hand, a gentle breeze caresses as I take in the soul-wrenching beauty of vivid greens broken up by spunky flowers showing off their colors to anyone willing to take a moment to appreciate.
A sip.
A moment.
And with open eyes I return once more to the barley-free land of Florida. An incurable romantic, sadly I haven’t made my way to Scotland yet but when I do I’ll be sure to savor Macallan in her storied home, a moment’s perfection from first sip to last. 

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Ledaig 15 year

 

Color: golden straw and banana skin. Gorgeous clarity.

Nose: musky. Dry mandarin and orange peel. Barnyard dust. Greenness of the aloe plant. Honeyed corn bread. Bales of hay in the back. Spiked honeycomb with a tickle of heat – primitive mead.

Body: medium-light with mild coating of glass which doesn’t last long. Oily and mouth-coating up front and dry in the in the back.

Palate: oily sticky decadence and not heavy at all. Orange oils and aloe oils. Heaviest in the middle, lightest up front and back. Honeycomb. Dusty dry finish – sawdust, barnyard dust, horse blanket, baled hay. Spiced stewed honeyed apples and peaches. Cornbread and honey. Yellow banana peel in the back. Cinnamon-sugar in the breath. Subtle sweet peaty smoke permeates and entices and soothes. Subtle and sophisticated.

Finish: long, smoky, and sweet with gentle oaky dryness.

As real as the bottle of Ledaig 15 year and the multiple drams she relinquished from her glassy confines, the distillery itself has proved ghostly illusive. Searching for any information on this once defunct and now operational distillery has been a pleasurable challenge. What I have been able to deduce is that Ledaig is still alive and well but goes by the name of Tobermory which is located on the Hebridean Island of Mull. Where it grows confusing is that Tobermory also has its own single-malt which goes by her new namesake. These two singular spirits are not to be confused with each other for each are truly a unique tasting experience.

While Tobermory and I remain strangers, Ledaig and I fast developed an intimate relationship. A truly fine spirit, she was sensual sophistication. The smoke was divinely delicate and her fruit tantalizingly sweet. I truly fell in love with this single-malt. Each sup left a thin sheen of sticky oaked honey divinity on my lips. Brilliant from nose to mouth, I’d gladly savor Ledaig 15 year on a very regular basis. Bottles may be hard to find, but the fruitful reward of one’s search is in the bottle and, of course, in your glass.

Brilliant. 

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Bushmills 16 year

 

Color: brilliant and deep coppers and oranges with gold aspirations.

Nose: caramel, toffee, and chocolate. Apricot, mandarin, and plums. Tickle of sweet sticky spicy heat in the back. Homemade cranberry sauce with just a touch of sugar for sweetness. Caramel flambé. Orange oils in the back. Floral esters whisper of rolling green fields covered in blossom and petal. Red licorice.

Body: swirls oily with thick tears that linger just long enough. Mouth-coating and sticky in the middle with a surprisingly short finish. Medium weight bordering on medium-light.

Palate: orange and cranberry. Rosewater and lavender. Salt water taffy and gooey melted toffee – Werthers original comes to mind. More orange is met with fresh grapes ala grape juices. Candied jellies. Chocolate is a shadow of a whisper in the back – liquid, malted, and truffled.

Finish: plums, kiwi, and rose. Lips are coated in silken sweet spicy heat that tickles just a bit. berries and jam.

Whisky or whiskey - a centuries old debate that isn’t looking to be settled anytime soon and really, who cares about stupid semantics when the whiskey is so damn good. For this round I shall utilize the “e” for tis not Scotland we are abiding by but Ireland and her own “water of life”, specifically the Bushmills distillery and their 16 year spirit. Aged in Oloroso Sherry and Bourbon casks, she is then aged further in Port Wine barrels for months before finally being judged suitable for bottling and subsequently my enjoyment.

As for your enjoyment, get your own damn bottle because you’re not laying one grubby paw on mine. From pour to nose to palate I was completely floored by how much I frickin’ loved this whiskey. Did my single-malts finally have a regular contender? The debate still goes on but for now I shall simply savor the beauty of her ruby and garnet hues, luxurious palate worthy of the most sophisticated gentry, and history better taught appreciatively in schools than bastardized in sleazy booze halls. OMG! Am I worthy? Why yes, I think I am.

If there is ever a rare millisecond when I doubt the endless beauteous bounty of this burgundian journey I have embarked on, it is unexpected gems such as the Bushmills 16 year that brings me right back to flavorvana, dash those milliseconds of doubt, and provoke the euphoria of sensorial stimulation for which I am a happy captive. A tip of the hat to the fine distillers who for centuries past and present continue to honor the fine art of Irish distillation, triple that is, and I’ll take mine neat with a smidge of water. 

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Edradour 10 year

Appearance: amber and copper and maple syrup. Golden glints along the edges.

Nose: dried grass and straw. Husked grains. Orange rind and tangelo zest. Cedar planks underneath. Caramelized apple skins with a touch of char along the edges. Banana peel and toasted coconut.

Body: swirls thick with a long lingering blanket. Sticky lips after each sup and swallow. Dry and parched in the middle.

Palate: just as the nose implied, yet bigger and bolder with some seriously pleasant heat in the back – like a flame kissing the back of my throat. Full bodied, sticky, and lightest along the edges. Essence of the harvest – husked grains yet to be separated, dried grass and straw ready to be baled. Red apple crisps. Bananas flambéed in caramel above an open flame. Lovely.

Finish: hot and fast like a vision of kilted times, then long and lingering. Wood and straw and grass all come together over an open flame without singing. Nondescript spicy heat.

While I have never been to Edradour myself personally, during my enjoyable tenure at Great Spirits of Vero Beach, FL I had the pleasure of soaking in the fascinating story of one couple’s visit to this itsy bitsy teensy weensy distillery in Pertshire, Scotland. Not just teensy weensy, Edradour is the last traditional farm distillery making it an honest marvel of tradition. Truly a family operation, so small is this distillery and so good is the will and humanity of Scotland that upon arriving, a minor introduction occurs before one is set off on their own to explore the beauteous surroundings: a harmonious marriage of man, nature, and a little bit of magic. Some might call it “God is good” and some might call it “Water of life”. Maybe tis a little of both…

As the smallest farm distillery in Scotland, Edradour is a treasure of not just Scotland but of all that once was good and can be good again ~ Home. Earth. Humility. Humanity. Joy. Vision. With each hand-selected oak cask set to age the hand-selected spirit, machines need not apply, from harvest to bottling, Edradour eventually fills twelve casks for a total of 600 gallons of hand-selected artisanal love. Within 10 years time, the whisky connoisseur is blessed with 600 delicious gallons of spirit ready for enjoyment.

Whose? Yours, mine, and the gents of Edradour herself.

There’s just something about holding a glass of Edradour 10 year up to one’s eyes to take in the grandeur of 150+ years of small batch beauty that soothes the soul and brings tears to one's eye. Traditions are both grand and humble, especially in a time fraught with the fast, the furious, and the forgettable. I’d like to think that somewhere along the time line I too can contribute something more than just a passing fancy, a vacant whim, a shallow boast upon this world with a little help from my Love and from friends. With the couple’s personal story resonating in my heart, each sip was better than the last and, even if for a moment temporary, it was I exploring the distillery grounds at my leisure. Fantasia though it was, I know without a doubt that someday it will be very real footsteps my Love and I leave in our own curious journey. But until then...

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

(ri)1

 

Appearance: copper with hints of blood orange and ruby.

Nose: honey and spiced orange heat tickles in the back much like a wintry flame crackling in the chill night air. Peaches and apricot. Honey on crunchy cornbread. Wild rye husks and seeds.

Body: swirls oily, thick, and sticky. Full and mouth-coating. Sticky lips. Dry in the back.

Palate: sweet up front, dry in the back, heat, and then lingering spice. Honey along the sides. Cornbread is a faint afterthought, mostly crust. Rye seeds in the middle, sweet and caramelized in honey apricots. Orange oils and zest.

Finish: grips middle of my chest and never really lets go, lingering and teasing with sweet spicy heat. Finish is dry with raw rye seeds and husks in the back. Somewhere a fireplace is crackling.

 

My first dip into the newly rediscovered world of Rye Whiskey, a brand new venture I thoroughly enjoyed and continue to enjoy. While (ri)1 isn’t brimming with depth and complexity, I found it more than satisfactory. Considering my overall curiosity when it comes to flavor generally speaking and spirits specifically speaking, my journey is far from over…if it will ever be over at all for as rewarding is the destination, so too is the journey itself. Since my virgin baptism (ri)1 style, I’ve sampled a few other Rye Whiskeys and it pleasures me greatly to know there are many more to sample. In fact, with the resurgence of interest in rye whiskey (and beer) and the ever expansive presence of small, artisanal, and local distillers, methinks this is a journey without end and I am quite alright with that.

But just what is it that makes Rye Whiskey so special? Well, it really is all about the namesake and that namesake is Rye. Whiskey is nothing new though always something special and as American is bourbon, so too is Rye. Our own oasis of austerity and character unapologetic, Rye’s flavor is dry and spiced, sweet and heat, fruity and husky. Rye is not an easy character to deal with; from mash to wort to distillation to barrel, Rye fights each and every step to maintain its robust individuality which we burgundians are more than happy to oblige.

Neither bourbon nor scotch nor Canadian whiskey nor moonshine, Rye is truly unique and truly delicious, in my not so humble and proud of it opinion. Hesitate not to ask your liquor store clerk, your bartender, or your local cocktail geek (for every cocktailarian is equally a spirit geek) for some Rye. Have a taste or three. Savor the horizons and never once stop being curious. The spice of life? Maybe not THE spice of life but definitely one of integrity and respect.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

El Dorado 15 year

Color: deep coppers and garnets. Rich, luxurious, and precious.

Nose: melted maple and molasses still warm to the touch. Freshly oiled leather. Melted brown sugars. Lemon essence. Bananas foster. Sliced Washington apples. Maple and molasses and brown sugar coat everything without overwhelming.

Body: pours dreamy, swirls oily and sticky, and lingers long after each swirl. Thick without being cloying. Decadent. Creamy and silky up front, sticky in the middle, dry along the side, and warm in the back.

Palate: maple and molasses aged to perfection coats the lips with each smacking sip. The breath is warm with brown sugar flambéed apples and bananas – foster anyone? Orange oils and leather. Gently mouth-coating.

Finish: warm spicy heat lingers in the chest. Leather. Bitter and dry and sweet all at once. One last hug of maple brown sugar melted but not burnt.

Amen, hallelujah, and peanut butter! When I tasted the 12 year and subsequently raved about it as it righteously deserved, everyone said that as good as the 12 year was…the 15 year was better. Considering they are all vaunted burgundians of fabulously diverse nature, I trusted their words of judgment absolutely. It took me longer than initially anticipated to crack into the 15 year rum from El Dorado but the unintentional wait just made it all that more divine.

And for those still in shock at the idea of a number attached to rum, this isn’t your cheap mass-produced craptastic rum mixers I am referring to. In fact, aged rum has an older richer history than the newer clear white distillate of today which barely resembles the spirituous cane of yesterday. Embroiled in a not so glorious past (criminals, detention camps, slave trade, piracy), the spirit itself is very much so glorious. El Dorado is especially unique because it is made from Demerara sugar. Located in the heart of Guyana, El Dorado offers a respectable range of ages along with some quality mixing rums. Do I personally like mixed rum drinks? Depends on the drink and the rum.

Speaking of mixing, though the age designation on this bottle stands at a proud 15, that doesn’t mean that she is all of only 15 years old, no younger nor older. Truth be told, the designation on aged spirits typically represents the youngest spirit of the overall blend (versus single batch bottles). The El Dorado 15 year has rums in her going so far as 25 years, maybe even older. That means that no rum younger than 15 is in her now glassed-in confines aching to break free and titillate the tastebuds as she did mine. If you don’t believe me, fine. Than allow me to take that bottle off your hands for someone who will appreciate it better – me.

Sharing can be rather overrated after all.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Redbreast 12 year

Color: copper – polished and new. Lighter along the edges with sun-baked straw and hay.

Nose: spiced and hot. Raw oats and rye seeds. Cut hay with hints of honey. Copper. Ghostly apple esters. Dry fall leaves. Green grape skins. Pears.

Body: oily, thin along the edges, with an intense punch of flavor in the middle and finish. Heavy and sticky in the middle; juicy sweet.

Palate: rich, hot, and intense. Red apples, green pears and green grapes. Kiwi. Spicy heat in the back – white hot embers. Lingering sweetness of fresh maple mulled and spiced. Honeycomb equally mulled and spiced. Delicate and sophisticated.

Finish: long sweet and sticky, then spicy sweet. Copper comes back to play in the finish, polished and sharp. Progresses from assertive to delicate.

Pot stills were once the preferred (and only) method of distilling the fine Irish spirit known as whiskey, but now the pot still exists as a relic in the shadows of history. But! Even if modern times have forgotten the still, I have not and neither have the fine folks of Irish Distillers (subsidiary of Pernod Ricard). The fact that a huge monolithic spirits giant as Pernod Ricard recognizes and respects the quality of Redbreast is almost enough to curb the cynicism of this artisanal-loving corporate-bashing advocate…almost. Thankfully the proof is in the whiskey and Redbreast was a sensorial delight the likes of which I will enjoy over and over again. In savoring her dram, I could smell the lush green rolling hills of Ireland while tasting of her past both glorious and stained in bloody tears restored by gritty hope and stubborn faith.

The 12 year is a common occurrence, but there also exists a mythical 15 year at 46% versus 40% for the 12 year. Mythical or not, it will be mine someway, somehow, someday. Even if just once… In the meantime, I think I shall have another.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Germain-Robin Fine Alambic Brandy ~ Lot 23

   I have a confession to make: I know pretty much absolutely nothing about brandy, much less fine alembic brandy the likes of which Germain-Robin is reputed for. A multigenerational descendent of vaunted cognac distillers, Hubert took his priceless heritage to another level by distilling fine wines into brandy decadence using a restored ancient alembic still. Ranging in accessibility and price, no matter what your indulgence, all of the fine Germain-Robin brandies will indubitably titillate and please.
Wine isn’t my imbibement of choice but when distilled into Brandy/Solera/Armagnac/Arzente, my tastebuds’s curiosity is peeked. Am I being blatantly biased and ignorant of wine’s fine standing? Yes. But for now wine is of little personal professional interest which I shall rectify one of these days…just not today. This isn’t to say I haven’t had good wines both white and red (with a definite preference for red) but brandy isn’t wine, at least not anymore. Brandy is typically distilled from the lesser white grapes because, after all, the best grapes should be saved for the best wines. Or should they? Shouldn’t a better grape wine make a better brandy? I say yes and the proof is quite tastefully in the brandy, specifically the brandies of Germain-Robin which use only the finest Pinot Noir, Colombard, and Semillon grape wines.
The bottle I cracked into was from Lot 23. What is Lot 23? Not quite sure; I’ve tried email inquiries with Germain-Robin but with no response so far. But I shan’t give up for a greater knowledge of this fine imbibement can only improve upon my slow savorance of its bottled divinity one glass at a time. And so without further ado…

Color: clear brilliant polished deep oranges and rich golds. Copper glints along the edges.

Nose: sweet heat tickles with flambéed orange and mandarin. Cinnamon sticks and mulled cider. Plump golden raisins. Cardamom. Orange honeycomb. Crisp and bright – pierces the senses.

Body: oily – long lingering tears. Thick in the middle, sticky, then dry along the sides. Holds onto the back of throat.

Palate: rich, smooth, and soothing. Lips tingle with spice and heat which unfold into orange rind, cardamom, orange honeycomb, and flambéed marmalade. Werthers Original planted right smack dab in the middle. Plump golden raisins dipped in honey and orange peel all as one. Heat also tickles in the middle back of tongue.

Finish: fleshy apples and cinnamon sticks – spiced and mulled. Fresh oak. Long and heavy on top of the tongue.

I never quite understood why the hubbub over truly good brandy. Having observed a steady procession of average to mediocre brandies go from shelf to counter to someone’s plastic cup, a high opinion I did not have. After all, it wasn’t exactly being savored for its individual qualities of which it appeared to have little. But taking time and tender loving care into consideration, a good brandy (wherever it may come from) is as worthy of a crystal snifter or fine cocktail as countless other treasured distillates. Ginger ale need not apply here, thankyouverymuch. Instead I'll continue to savor my Germain-Robin neat which, having opened the mind’s eye to a fantasia of flavorful possibilities, has properly prepared me for all future brandy excursions. What next? Only time and my own trip from shelf to counter to glass shall tell.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Lagavulin 16 year

   While not my first experience, early in my embrace of the malt there was peat, more specifically, the sweet smoky earthen tarry salty love that is also known as Lagavulin 16 year. The isle of Islay which Lagavulin calls home is synonymous with peat and all its divisive glory. One either loves peat or hates it and I’ve yet to meet anyone who waddles with indecision. But what is peat? Peat is quite simply a century’s long compressed accumulation of decayed vegetation matter along with whatever else may have happened to die and decompose there. Sounds gross but hey, that’s Mother Nature and with a little help from man Mother Nature gives me Lagavulin.
All is well in my world, indeed.
Lagavulin shares its coastline with two other distilleries but shares its water with no one. No one. The malt Lagavulin smokes ala peat comes from the maltings at Port Ellen, another vaunted distillery in Scotland I shall explore elsewhere. Time is not of essence at Lagavulin as more than 15 hours are taken during distillation before spirit meets her long slumber in barrels. This is longer than any distillery within the green hills and craggy shores of Scotland.
Today makes the second bottle of Lagavulin to tease and delight my eager burgundian senses. Lagavulin has more bottlings beyond the 16 year but there is just something about this particular age which is both soothing and invigorating…a little bit of home, if I do say so myself.

Color: ambers, mahogany, and garnets. Clear and deep.

Nose: peat and smoke, mud and muck, leather and tannins. Apple cores and musk in the back. Smells just before a rain shower and right after a rain shower. Sea salt weaves in and out. Hibiscus.

Body: swirls oily, thick, and heavy. Mouthcoating. Sticky in the middle which lingers long. Tingle along inner lips and top of tongue.

Palate: oily – smoke and peat, dirty and leathery. Lovely rancid burnt tarry finish. More leather along with some saddlebags. Old. Musk, sweat, salt, seaweed, and salt. Mossy shores. Fish scales. Fishing docks. Orange oils. Peat – char and tar.

Finish: long and lingering and delicate all at the same time. Rides flavor wave to the point of overwhelming…and doesn’t. Musk, leather, char, and peat have a party in my breath. Soothing. Of hearth and home.

Lagavulin 16 year is home. I can’t think really of any other way to describe our relationship any other way. Tis not the same kind of home one enjoys with her Love and family but the kind of home, kinship if you will, one feels with the Earth and with Time. This is Lagavulin. Get yourself some.

Scapa 12 year

   Liquid history. That is what Scottish single-malt has been, is, and will continue to be so long as men and women of spirit keep the malting malting, the stills distilling, and the barrels offering up their angels share for that ultimate pleasure granted in the moment when her bounty within the glass whispers sweet nothings from head to toe. For Scapa of Orkney, her story begins along the craggy isles of 1885 where even to this day one can hear the Orkney Boatman’s Song in drift along the winds. The dream of McFarlane and Townsend, it didn’t take long for the malt to be as beautiful as her surrounding landscape splashed in salt, layered in moss and seaweed, and mellowed by a temperate climate.
Though Scapa has changed hands over the years (Scapa Distillery Company Limited in 1919 and Hiram Walker in 1954) a recent effort to breathe renewed vitality into this windswept spirit took off in 2004 with a 16 year replacing their standard 12 year, the same 12 year I tasted. The new Scapa 16 year spends her last couple years maturing in first fill American Oak Casks for a flavor exploration I shall indulge in as soon a bottle sails my way.
In the meantime though, I prepare to delve deep into the 12 year with a renewed respect for this now endangered/extinct spirit. Like the men and women before me, I too shall keep the spirit of this single-malt alive for as long as her bounty within the glass whispers sweet nothings to me.

Color: light straws and hay with golden glints of sunshine. Clear with glimmers shiny copper pennies.

Nose: salt. Honey in the back along with a hit of heat, sharp and to the point. Flambéed apples and plantains. Dried seaweed and nori strips. Sandy shores. Salt water taffy.

Body: surprisingly oily and thick. Mouth-coating with sticky lips and tongue. Medium weight.

Palate: mouth-coating with medium oily weight carries flavors across palate in proper time. Toasted coconut. Flambéed pineapple mingles with the toasted coconut. Seaweed and nori in the finish. Salty on the back of tongue. Apple skins. Peppercorns crunch and crackle along sides while peppering top of tongue along with some dried chilies.

Finish: long and sweet and salty and seaweedy and peppercorny. Lips tingle from first quaff to last and beyond.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to get upon choosing the Scapa 12 year as my next dram of choice but that’s half the fun, unexpected surprises and all. Having learned more of the history of this mariners dram, I close my eyes to smell the shore, hear the waves, taste the wind, and feel the warmth of ages long gone but somehow still living, if nothing else, in each drop of Scapa both new and retired.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

El Dorado 12 year

   Rum is so much more than a companion to your coke and yes, please please please, hold the spice. While its storied history contains both the glorious and not so glorious (prisons – criminals – pirates – maritime antics) the spirit itself is liquid history the likes of which I am always happy to drink of. Not just a drink of the isles for the isles, so popular was the sweet sippable spirit that the first rum distillery in the British Colonies was built in 1664 on what is now known as Staten Island. Just three years after Boston, MA followed with their own distillery of rumly delights.
But I’m not divining the rumly delights of colonial Americas. Instead, the El Dorado 12 year rum is the liquid history I speak of today and though their headquarters is based in the Netherlands, their heart lies in Guyana. Known as Breitenstein Products from 1860 up until 2003, the former Dutch East Indies company is known now as Demerara Distillers. Being an advocate of old world traditions, Demerara still uses the last and only fully operational wooden Coffey still in the Western world to produce their rums of a truly unique character. Tasty too, if I may add…and I do.
A consistent award winner in national and international spirits contests, bronze silver and gold don’t mean much if disappointment awaits. Thankfully, I am happy to say that the El Dorado line of rums exudes taste, class, sophistication, and yumminess.

Color: deep garnets and Victorian reds deep and burnt. Copper pennies along the sides.

Nose: heat hits in the back. Melted caramel and toffee chocolate truffles. Truffle powder. Caramel syrup. Cinnamon sticks, nutmeg, and paprika in the back. Fuji apples. Candied plums and prunes. Rum soaked oak staves. Raw cooked sugar cane.

Body: medium with a thick mouth-coating presence. Fullest in the middle, lighter along the sides. Sticks to top of the tongue.

Palate: silky smooth, mouth-coating and filling with caramel vanilla maple truffles. Chocolate underneath. Tongue sticky with caramel nougat. Soaked wood barrels – spice and burnt along the edges. Dried plums, Fuji apples, and raisiny sweetness in the middle. Meaty and chewy. Coconut shavings. Candied pineapple chunks. Everything hits heaviest in the middle with spicy woody rummy staves in the back.

Finish: quick and to the point. Dry, spiced, and woody. Caramel and toffee.

I love rum; I really do. And don’t dismiss rum as just another simple pathetic peon mixer for sugary-sweet cola because it is so much more. Aged rum isn’t all the same either – different sugars and different barrels make for so many deliciously decant rums and yes, I’ve got the time. El Dorado is demerara sugar at its finest.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Ballast Point Three Sheets Barrel-Aged Rum

   There is a common lovelorn lust amongst those of burgundian designs and intentions. Brewers are chefs, chefs are brewers, and distillers are either/or/all the above. It is an appreciation of the flavor of life and the flavors that is life. The fine peeps and peepettes at Ballast Point Brewing of San Diego, California. But wait! They just aren’t Ballast Point Brewing but Ballast Point Brewing & Sprits. That’s right; spirits. Not only are they passionate about the fermentables; they are passionate about distillates too. Quirky. Funky. Fun. Unique. And above all, artisanal.
During the deliciously decadent indulgence that was the Ballast Point Brewmaster Dinner at Town Crier Pub of Tradition, a very generous rep from way out west flew himself to our Treasure Coast to espouse the virtues of his very virtuous beer. Ballast Point often is overlooked by geeks visiting San Diego, and they shouldn’t because a jewel blessed by Mother Ocean herself awaits. For a burgundian such as myself, it’s not just about the beer but about everything offered.
And offer they did. Actually, I should say offer did Earl. As I reminisce on my tastetacular journey through her sugar-cane depths, all I can say is AAARGH! Hide the rum.

Color: golden grains. Gold doubloon. Copper pennies along the edges.

Nose: heat hits in the back. Caramel apples. Cinnamon sticks. Has a pervasive stickiness which lingers in the nose. Lemon and orange oil. Oiled leather. Acorns. Red apple flesh. Candied fruit sweetness. Stewed peach skins, apricot specifically.

Body: medium to medium-light. Solid blanket of tears. Sweet and spicy in the middle. Sticky along the sides quaff to quaff.

Palate: lemon and pepper and spice in the middle. Honeyed candied sugar cane sweetness. Dry on top of the breath. Honey, lemon and orange oils on lips. Oak and coconut husks. Hit of heat deep in the middle of chest. Lemon rind and orange rind leads into oils. Lovely. Acorns in the breath. Chestnuts?

Finish: relatively clean, short, and to the point. Heat and lemon pepper tickle the breath long after. Pepper corns atop tongue and lemon rind along the edges.

Overall I was more than pleased with my first offering from Ballast Point and their spirits division. I'd love to dabble in more of their artisanal spirits and someday I will. I love to dabble in all things artisanal with flavor and personality of which Ballast Point has all the above and more. Stay tuned...

(original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Eagle Rare Single Barrel 10 year

   Just what is Bourbon? Bourbon IS the original American spirit. I enjoy all spirits of all ranges, and I mean ALL, with bourbon of course being one. As I slowly surely begin my never-ending journey through flavor, I’d be remiss to skip over bourbon. As with all things tastefully worthwhile, I’m not talking about the lowest of the low, the cheapest of the cheap, but I am talking about what constitutes GOOD bourbon. Varieties may and can vary because she is the spice of life. Price isn’t really relevant when quality matters but it would also be irresponsible of me and any curious imbiber of life to not take it into some consideration. Love. Love should always be first. All else will follow.
Speaking of love, Eagle Rare hails from Kentucky (duh) and though she has exchanged ownership, today Eagle Rare 10 year single barrel never fails to win awards and accolades as it woes bourbon aficionados and newbies alike. Unique in that all Eagle Rare 10 year single barrel is just that, a 10 year bourbon whose bottled worth came from one freshly toasted single-use American oak barrel and one freshly toasted single-use American oak barrel only. Period. As such there may be a smidge of variation from barrel to barrel, but all is in good flavor intentions.

Color: copper. Polished pennies. Burnished garnet. Deep clarity with regal richness.

Nose: orange oils and rind. Oiled leather and saddles. Toast and toasted coconut. Lemongrass. Apple musk. Essence of the ranch. Burnt sugars.

Body: swirls thick, coating sides of glass with thick rivulets. Oily and mouth-coating. Lips sticky with honeycomb and orange oils. Dry spicy woody top of tongue. Full and rich.

Palate: quite rich. Solid hit of heat in the back with spice, orange flambé, and coconut lingering in the breath. Toasted. Orange honey lips. Grabs back of throat after each quaff. Sultry and seductive – brings you in for a sticky sweet kiss than POW! Cracked peppercorn with a dried chili pepper bite. Leather and saddle mingles with the orange oils. Toffee comes out to play long after. Dried mango.

Finish: long and sticky with lips tingling. Breath dry, spiced, and woody. Leathery then back into the oils. Chest glows.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Glenmorangie 10 year

   How long spirits and/or alcohol of sorts have been produced in the Tain region of Scotland is up for debate and since time machines are out of the picture, shall remain so. And why not. The mystery and mystique of time is what makes it so mysterious and mystical; the allure of the unknown. What is known is that since about the mid 1980s the Glenmorangie malt has been the best selling malt in Scotland. Translation: the Scots drink a lot of scotch and Glenmorangie reigns numero uno. But sales aren’t everything. Is it just hype? Hyperbole? Flight of fancy?
I trust Scotland and her people to know good scotch and in that, Glenmorangie is no exception. A few unique factors go into her spirit of singularity which makes this journey into flavordom most unique. For one, Glenmorangie utilizes the tallest stills in Scotland, measuring in at an impressive 26 feet and 3 inches. Looking at my own bottle, I note the prideful inscription of “Perfected by the sixteen men of Tain”. Dad instilled in me at a young age to do what one does once and to do it well, otherwise where is the pride and where is the accomplishment, no matter how small or large the task. He also taught me to love what you do and if you don’t, then do something about it and do it once, do it well, and don’t look back. In the cellars of Glenmorangie, sixteen men are tasked with the sacred duty of nurturing, nourishing, and celebrating the fruits of their labors.
And celebrate the fruit of their labors I shall. To not judge prematurely. To be open and free in impression and inspiration. To savor what is as what should be. In all these regards and more, I live and tell.

Color: light clear straw. Honey and sunshine.

Nose: gentle and supple. Straw and biscuits. Honeycomb. Baled hay. Sunflower. Essence of orange. Orchard must. Golden fields.

Body: swirls with a nice oily layer. Smooth and silky, oily and creamy. Sticky and supporting a nice weight.

Palate: honey, straw, and hay. Honeycomb all over lips which tingle long after each quaff. Sunflowers amidst a pervasive essence of golden fields ready for the harvest. Oily and creamy. Coconut husk and natural coconut water. Orange oils. Grassy. Spice in the back.

Finish: tingly lips. Heat and spice in breath lingers impressively. Lemon skin. Honeycomb. Dry along the sides and sticky everywhere else.

I mistakenly went into this single-malt not expecting to be all that impressed, but now I can see why she is the biggest selling malt within her home country. Greater depth, clarity, weight, complexity, and character than the other bar standards, at least bar standards here in the states. I may not have understood or appreciated what Dad was teaching me when I was younger, but now it all makes sense. And to all who have and continue to broaden my view of the world near and far, large and small, thank you. The Glenmorangie 10 year is young and playful yet also wise beyond my years, a character which shown clear and true.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Macallan 17 year ~ Fine Oak

   The Macallan - speak its name and no matter who you are or where you are and they will know its name. Long before I was enraptured by the single-malt, I knew of Macallan, even if only by name. An unassuming gent fondly known as the Whisky Chaser wrote a book or three which this amateur whisky chaser has read from cover to back. Enraptured not just by the picturesque Scottish isles, mores, highlands, and beyond, his slight of pen and prose brought me back into the mystical world of the malt, single of you please, even blended. If you let the malt speak for itself, then limitless discoveries await. I know. I see, smell, taste, and savor.
The Macallan is no stranger to the stoic nature and whimsical fancy of the malt and those who fancy her. Wood is an important partner in flavor and recently Macallan has been dabbling with beauteous White Oak. The white oak Macallan prefers for her Fine Oak series hails from three legendary regions of Spain which have been host to the great Spanish Oak; those regions are Galicia, Cantabria, and Asturias. Once the casks are complete, a little bit of love between legendary Jerez sherry and oak makes for a divine resting place for the awaiting malt. On occasion, even American Oak from the elder forests of Eastern United States which are then shipped to Jerez for a scintillating date with Jerez sherry before lying with Macallan malt.
For my first foray into Macallan, I find it rather appropriate that she be not just a Macallan but a Fine Oak Macallan bottled at the tender age of 17. My love for white oak is no secret and so let the journey begin.

Color: clear burnished coppers. deeper along the edges than in the middle.

Nose: sweet and honeyed. pervasive coconut. banana skins. raw oak, sweet and spicy, mingles with the coconut. guava and plantains. honeycomb raw and dripping. orchard must. pear and apple skins essence. teasatory tickle of heat and spice in the back, dry. golden biscuits without the sausage and gravy.

Body: oily, sticky, and mouth-coating in the middle. leaves dryness on the lips and along sides of cheeks and tongue.

Palate: clean and dry along the sides with white oak, spice, and fruit skins - pears and apples. coconut is everywhere, toasted, then dryness of husk. papaya, guava, and plantain greenness. spicy oaky planks in the breath. orange peel. sticky sweet earthiness of fresh honeycomb.

Finish: long, spiced, delicately sweet, and oaky. continues to dry sides of cheeks and tongue while the lips remain sticky. heavy in the middle from start to finish.

A thorough delight from start to finish. Now that the tasting notes are done, I am eager to savor a few drams sooner than later because as I write this, a thirst calls my name. The Fine Oak series is a welcome diversion from the long centuries old tradition of Macallan which I believe will become a tradition all her own.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

Lochindaal 10 year

   It took me forever to find information on this particular scotch but persistence prevailed and thus here I am with more than just tasting notes.
A hanger-on from my old place of work (a liquor store - surprise surprise), the Lochindaal 10 year called to me because 1) I'd never tasted it and 2) twas was a mystery. Once in my tender care, I discovered my new addition to be a bit of a bastard. What I mean is that there really isn't a Lochindaal (Loch Indaal) distillery which is active or actively produced this single-malt. He is instead the Bruichladdich 10 year in disguise as dictated by the Associated Scottish Distillers. For no other discernable reasons other than the sheer sake of marketing was such trickery played out.
Pretenses and falsities aside, once his origin was established it was time to let my palate of five senses do the rest of the talking.

Color: golden sunshine on a clear summer day. brilliant fields of straw.

Nose: honeyed straw with a green grass border slightly sun baked and bales of dried hay lingering about. coconut husk. green cut grass damp dewy and summery sweet. green banana peel. honeycomb. lemon peel.

Body: light and clean, almost airy though not watery. dry in the middle and finish. very mildly mouth-coating. floats across the tastebuds.

Palate: honeycomb clean and tight with lemon peel zipping into simply sippable fresh coconut water mingles with green bananas. honeyed rolls still doughy and yeasty. freshly picked and sliced pineapple. grass and hay in the back.

Finish: spicy husky coconuts, straw, and baled hay. very faint hint of lemon and honey rolls. overall rather short-lived the flavors that linger. a minor hit of heat reminds me of a ray of summer sunshine here now and gone later. paprika makes a startling albeit agreeable appearance.

Overall an alright 10 year single-malt. What stood out the most to me was that no one thing ever really stood out and as quickly as he entered my thoughts did he quickly exit.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)

BenRiach 10 year

   It doesn’t have to be a big name distillery to produce big name single-malts. While ultimately it all boils down to flavor within which I would also include quality, innovation, inspiration, and tradition, personal taste also plays a factor. But! One must always keep in mind that one’s favorite single may not be anothers which is in no way relevant to the quality of that single-malt. During my tenure at a local liquor store, I slowly and quietly fell in love with single-malts and Scotland through the words of Michael Jackson and other great whisky chasers. During my tutilage, there was a nondescript bottle of BenRiach 10 year which beckoned in soft persistance. Suffice to say, I am right here right now because resistance is futile and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
The distillery itself, BenRiach, has been around since the turn of the 19th century – 1898 to be exact. Just as Scotland has ridden the highs and lows of the whisky booms and busts, so too has BenRiach thus it pleases me to no end to pronounce this distillery quite alive and well. Amidst her many ownerships, the last of which being the behemoth Chivas Brothers, BenRiach now rests amidst the tender cares of three private individuals where she has flourished and continues to thrive.
I can’t say for sure, but I am fairly certain that the bottle which won my heart not so long ago was a prior release under Chivas ownership since I don’t see her anywhere on the new BenRiach website. And so, without further ado and a nod to my Lovely, it’s dram time.

Color: gold and straw with a clear brilliance marked by a medium depth bordered in ambers.

Nose: honeycomb, wood (raw oak), vanilla, saffron. Dew-dropped green grass amidst fields of wild flowers with waves of golden grains upon the horizon. Tickle of heat in the back which leads into a cooled honey glaze. Fruitcake esters in the middle – candied maraschino and pineapple. White bread crusts.

Body: light in front, full and sticky in the middle which features predominantly atop the tongue, and dry in the finish. Medium to medium-light weight. Delicate along the edges.

Palate: tickles in the back of spice, oak, and orange peel. Warm honeycomb sweetness finishes with oak in the back where gentle leather whispers. Candied pineapples underneath. Honeyed bread crust. Apple skins. Flavor dominates in the middle.

Finish: long and dry on top of the tongue with vanilla and saffron. Rawness of oak and orange skins.

(an original written work by Kristyn Lier. plagiarism is not tolerated)