First of all, let me say that I didn’t get the tea in it.
[John: It’s more like tea-oh-no-he-di-int!]
Now that we thankfully have that out of the way:
The nose is mildly malty, with notes of rain water on shale and muslin curtains that the cleaner accidentally used lemon furniture polish on. But to say all of that is just to speak in the typical Malt Impostor vernacular about this dram. The nose is really nice and admits of such treatment.
But the mouth! Oh… The mouth leaves me grasping for words–in Italian. Ones that I wish I knew so I could try to express–with my hands and the arching of my shoulders–how good it is. Despite the sense you get immediately on the palate that it’s rather concentrated, and despite the fact that it clocks in at a robust 55%, it’s super drinkable and bends the brain in looping arcs that make you think it’s like a mango with a grapefruit rind on it. But not one fully enclosing it, just one draped across the top like a wig on a half-assed barrister. Don’t even begin to ask me how this last bit relates to the taste. All I can tell you is that it does–in the best possible way. Let’s put it this way: if you were stoned, you’d still be laughing at that mango, even though you ate it, rind and all, three hours ago.
Add water, and it’s a lemon popsicle frozen into the shape of a stiletto heel. The stiletto is the fine point of charcoal that the water releases. But saying that much is misleading, as it might leave you with the image of a tart, cold dominatrix pinning your tongue to a frozen lemon with her six-inch heel (Bill and John, you’re both getting that, too, right? Right?!?). But nothing could be further from the truth. The truth is that with a little water, this bad boy flat iridesces on the palate like a soap bubble in the sun, or like the Jay-Z version of The Great Gatsby–or how the following would make most 40-something women feel if it were to appear in front of them in real life:
The finish? It continues the lemon-charcoal iridescence. Beyond that, it’s really hard to say, since all three of us were inspired to glorp the rest of our sample halfway in.
On the scale of ways of completing something you weren’t really able to finish properly–
The Teaninich 17 Year 2017 Limited Edition is Christmas-treeing a Scantron test–It allows you to save face while still standing a pretty good chance of getting at least some answers right. This technique is so obviously good it appeals to slackers and nerds alike (though for nerds, only provided that the test penalizes you for ones you don’t answer as much as for the ones you get wrong).
[Bill: because you had to put in that caveat: NERD!]
–Our thanks to Diageo for the sample!