On the nose there are halved apricots folded into an omelette. Salted caperberries, mascarpone cheese, and three bags of Tension Tamer herbal tea are the rest of the ingredients. As I ready myself for this curious breakfast, the nose changes. There’s no particular taste; rather, it’s like being inside a guitar left in an attic. The musty miasma is countered by a mouldering orange, stuffed into the sound hole, it seems, but without ever touching the spalted maple rosette. How could this be? Ah, ha! The guitar has been recently restrung with Phosphor Bronze strings but inverted, it seems, by our citrus-stuffing southpaw. All of which is to say that this is an inviting and beguiling dram. The mouth is smooth at first. Think tangerine juice dusted with stevia and chilled by a pair of whisky stones cut into the shape of the Willendorf Venus. But then the mouth turns into the shrill rictus of a diffident peacock. “Stop it! Stop…looking at me!” it seems to say. But how can a peacock not be looked at? I rather think that this peacock wishes it were something plainer, a house sparrow perhaps. Is this true of the whisky as well? On the finish we get the same battle between sweetness and devious intent. Tracker jacker honey spread on a toasted roll. White lies whispered in a wedding vow. Deathbed promises made and promptly forgotten.
The Glen Garioch 12 is the Charles Mingus Cat Toilet Training Program–Reading it, one can see that Mingus was a tremendous bandleader. Firm, yet receptive. Articulate, yet intuitive. The Glen Garioch 12 hums the same tune.
–Our thanks to Kim Ross for the samples! “Fit A Rare Dram”, indeed!