The nose on this dram is what I would imagine it would smell like to step foot into lemon heaven. By that I don’t mean the place where really good lemons go to spend eternity, but more a lemonized version of where some people believe really good human beings go to spend eternity. That said, though, really, either would work here. It’s overwhelmingly beautiful in its lemonness, but with an additional note of pure fruitiness and crazy whipped butter (the Devo of butters–now what they’re doing in lemon heaven, I cannot say) that lends a creaminess that borders on waxiness. I imagine this is what it’d be like to encounter a beehive where all the drones are lemons and the Queen is a Key lime, and they’ve been building this amazing structure for twenty-five years.
The mouth is utterly perfect. It is what you’d expect beverages to taste like in lemon heaven. It’s like something out of Defending Your Life. There’s a hint of astringency, but it provides a little adult-style bitterness rather than an off-note, and there’s a very fine dustiness, like where Jeeves left the drawing room just as it was until moments before your arrival. There’s something wild and crazy here, too, though: boysenberry, a swamp fire in lemon heaven, and a deer skin on the side of the road there that turns out to have been kneaded and worked until it was as soft as the skin on an overripe tangerine. Apparently, there is no roadkill, just fine leathers yet to be claimed.
The finish fires on the sides of the tongue like carefully placed drops of cinnamon oil. Then comes the sigh, the sigh of angels, ushering in the sublimity of the finish. It would have lasted forever if we had let it, I’m sure. That’s right: lemon heaven also offers eternal life. But far from being boring or overly purified, this finish is a hedonic treadmill, powered by the joy of discovery (and by that, I don’t mean hedonic adaptation, but the human equivalent of a hamster wheel of pleasure). It’s so powerfully great, it’s like being angled out of your chair to standing by Archimedes’ lever. We go silent in its presence. We are moved. The world is moved. And yet so few are aware. We’d spread the word, but that would mean having to get up and leave this dram behind.
On the scale of alternate heavens–
The Pittyvaich 25 Year 2015 Limited Edition is Cockaigne–To quote Herman Pleij: “Imagine a dreamland where roasted pigs wander about with knives in their backs to make carving easy, where grilled geese fly directly into one’s mouth, where cooked fish jump out of the water and land at one’s feet. The weather is always mild, the wine flows freely, sex is readily available, and all people enjoy eternal youth.”