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)