The Caol Ila 30 yr Master of Malt Single Cask (3 cl MoM* mini)

Tasting notes: 
Conceptual artist Jenny Holzer once wrote: “Spit all over someone with a mouthful of milk if you want to find out something about his personality fast.”  Imagine, though, instead of milk it was the Caol Ila 30 year Single Cask by Master of Malt.  And instead of finding out about someone else’s personality, I’m quickly learning something about myself.  Or, it might be better to say, recovering something deep and hidden away.  For as I wipe the stinging whisky from my eyes, I’m flooded with memories of the time I burned a plastic Star Wars figure—the linchpin of my neighbor’s impressive collection—with a Bic lighter.  For it is some of that smoke that I find on the nose.  [Why yes, Bill, it is, in fact, on my nose; but I’m talking here about the nose of the whisky.]  But this being memory, my mind moves across a patchwork quilt of consanguineous recollections to the time when Susie down the street wrapped me in a eucalyptus-scented afghan.  I was a mummy.  She was Nefertiti.  I peeked through the gap in the Granny Square Stitch–a gap I widened with gentle pokes from a forefinger still sticky with grape jam and dusted with Cool Ranch Dorito spice–to see her in an afternoon sunsplash of radiant beauty.  Verily the seeds of my unnameable (and untameable) fetish were planted on this day and in this soil.  But the key fertilization came when her brother, Bruce, burst into the room in a splenetic rage.  I turned my eye toward a lump of plastic not much larger than an avocado pit in his purple fist, and I knew it was over.  “Blue Snaggletooth!” was all I could hear above our collectives screams as I helplessly absorbed his blows and Nefertiti, my Nefertiti, hid in her closet. 

*–Master of Malt   (Caol Ila 30 year old Single Cask Master of Malt)
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