The moniker “Three Wood” pleads insistently–but no less annoyingly–for a carefully crafted golf reference (unlike the variant “Triple Wood,” which conjures up vivid images of…[insert innuendo here] …oof, even that was bad. Moving on…). Not ever having been one to give in to peer pressure, either teenage or literary, I will not accede to a golf reference here. No, I will advance here a full-blown golf analogy: The monster mouth and the indefinite aging of this dram are the stuff of folklore or maybe even a Grimm’s fairy tale. In this way, the Auchentoshan Three Wood is much more like a troll’s mallet than a golf club. [Sorry if you were expecting a Tiger Woods reference…and no, this is not an ironic meta-reference to Tiger…really] And the nose on this Auchentoshan offering has about as much nose as you might expect this same troll’s mallet to have backswing: you’ll give yourself a hernia before you find one. Imagine that same troll’s mallet, the wood on its face splintered and stained with God-knows-what and the studded iron bands adorning the cylinder of its head slowly rusting through, striking the ball solidly. Now image the golf ball is your face, and you have a clear sense of the mouth on this dram (If your powers of imagination tend to bump hard against the limits of realty, then try this: the mouth is freakishly similar to waking up to find that your somnambulistic college roommate has unwittingly used your mouth as a pencil sharpener). The follow-through is, again, about what you’d expect from a honkin’ huge hammer a gargantuan, ill-tempered creature would employ as a weapon: not much to it beyond its own momentum from before. Still, overall it’s fair to say that this dram packs a punch–but one that’s about as smooth and balanced as you’d expect your swing to be if you decided to tee up with Grendel’s mallet.
The Auchentoshan Three Wood is the seesaw: not as beloved as the top, but also not nearly as limited in its impact. What other object of children’s play holds out the possibility of launching a small kid a good thirty feet–I mean, other than the trebuchet?