On the nose, it’s papaya rind and mango pith, ground into a paste and dried in the sun to glue together a palm frond skirt. There’s also a ball of honeydew melon butter that’s been left on a bone china plate on the armchair of your beach chair (under the shade of a thatch umbrella, of course). It is a tour de force of tropical fruits and wafts of rum from blended frozen cocktails, which, as I write this from Norway in the winter, is to say that the nose is rather fantastic.
And if that doesn’t give you the sensation of being on the beach, the brininess of the mouth, surrounded by unctuous, luscious fruit, will. It’s so briny, it’s drying my mouth out and shrinking my tongue. Thank God I’m reviewing this alone, because otherwise, Bill and John and I would all be talking in helium voices from having our talking apparati shriveled to half their sizes. And despite all of that, a lemon note persists. A heavily salted lemon. Resisting oppression. Damn, that’s a salty lemon. Does that come from the 72% Glen Elgin juice or from the 28% Girvan grain whisky? I mean, they’re both matured in re-charred ex-Bourbon barrels, so like in all good things, an aura of real mystery remains.
The finish just draws the effect of the mouth out like some of the early Star Trek movies stretch out the USS Enterprise as it’s jumping to warp speed. And like the crew of the ship, I feel none the worse for the journey. In fact, I feel improved. I wouldn’t go so far as to say this whisky has made me a better man, mainly because the sample I had was too small. A full bottle, though? Only Compass Box knows, but I might need to find out.
On the scale of the health dangers of too much salt–
The Compass Box The Double Single Limited Edition is that it causes the sympathetic nervous system to pump out large amounts of stress hormones–Everyone knows the heart stuff; this is a rare find. And fortunately, this whisky features absolutely 0 sodium, so you can get your salty fix here risk-free.
–Our thanks to Compass Box for the sample!