The Diageo Talisker 27 is…I must digress. When John wrote up the Talisker 10, he put into words what I hadn’t fully conceptualized but always felt deeply encoded in my DNA: that the Talisker 10 is a reference dram, a standard to compare and contrast, to have and to hold, to love, honor, and obey—
[John and Stephen (in unison): For goodness sake, Bill, you’re supposed to be writing a review, not marrying the whisky!!]
The question arose before pouring my sample from the sample: Would this 27-year old be 2.7 times as good as the 10 year-old? (That would stand to reason, no?) With trepidation and anticipation, I brought my glass to my nose…and I must digress again. This time, though, to say that what follows might sound like the ravings of a besotted youth, but what is the Malt Impostor if not a home for the ravings of besotted youths? Judging by the nose, outside of Talisker, I wouldn’t know this was peated. Inside of Talisker, it’d be dark, chthonic, alchemical—or so I imagine, not having visited the Isle of Skye…yet. It’d be easy to list all the things *not* on the nose, but really, noting the absence of peat beguiles the very meaning of a Talisker. I get the non-tar stuff that holds pavement together, the genius of humanity, the pluck of the engineer—a German engineer creating an autobahn suitable for the grandchildren of the Kaiser? No, it’s tar held together by attar of roses, the aspirations of Tiger Mothers, and the pluck of the Irish harp, the cláirseach. It’s Apollo 11 leaving for the moon and 2020 AD, the year we first get clear sighting of benevolent aliens bringing us unimagined technologies and great dance music.
On the mouth, perfect balance; better than Anthony Gatto sedately and serenely juggling seven balls for a world-record 11 minutes and 38 seconds, better than a cat on a cold gold roof, better than Gabby Douglas pwning the uneven parallel bars, and better than gravity holding the solar system twirling in place. It’s…I must digress.
Poqiwefqioenqierjfpq!!!!! Eowjfoqfho!!!!!!!! Dfakenr;qkfnenl!!!!!!!!!
Okay, I’m back. It’s falling asleep on a pillow stuffed with clouds, while my tongue is being milked of its saliva by a sweetly nubile colleen: Udderly delicious. I’m floating in a pond covered with rose petals, titanium road bike pedals, and the peace of catching an updraft in my vintage burlap sack hang glider. I’ve left my body and am walking in an astral hyperbolic plane. I’m silly putty that’s been pressed against a Zippy the Pinhead comic, then peeled off and stretched and twirled and morphed like Terminator II into Ziggy. Hasta la vista. Are we having fun yet? Yes, yes we are. I’ve received a tonsillectomy without surgical instruments, anaesthetic, or even a tonsil. How can you remove what was never there? How can something be better balanced than the idealized scales of justice behind the veil?
Finishing up, it’s getting up and dancing with wolves (and Kate Upton) after being in a body cast for eight months after suffering a compound fracture that tripled the value of your estate. It’s…very much worth experiencing.
The Talisker 27 Year 2013 Limited Ed. is “Do you mind if I smoke while you eat?”–
Drinking this is feasting by candlelight and smoking contemplatively, watching movies under a quilt and making out like a bandit, walking along the sandy beach and in the springy heather, kissing the sky and being enfolded in a natural hot mud bath. It’s all these things and more…
–Our thanks to Hunter PR and Diageo for the sample!