The Old Pulteney 21 noses its younger siblings, but only after the fumes have been blown (by a barnacle-encrusted ship propellor) through a tulle screen, exhalations of virgin breath, and a 7-layer phyllo dough Turkish delight laced with figs, pistachioes, and rosewater. More honey, more winesap apple, more refinement, and more willow pollen: An orotund quality with deep bass notes, like the portentous trombones from Inception. Apple parings rubbed on shellacked bowling alley maple.
The mouth is pouring the best synthetic motor oil ever made into a centrifuge in a vain attempt to fuse it with citric acids, zests, and esters and thereby obtain federal funding for the creation of an Agrifuel specific to yellow Bentley convertibles. It adheres to the roof of the mouth and cycles intensity like a mammal in and out of estrus.
The finish is a rising tide, inexorably lifting a fleet of cuttlefish boats and Venetian gondoliers. Will the canals flood? Will tourists be inconvenienced? Sitting in St. Mark’s Square, it’s hard to care. Adding actual, as opposed to imagist, water induces a large limestone obelisk in a fountain awash in organic lemonade. The legs are scalloped like potatoes, but not Ruffles® with Ridges; rather like Lays™ with, um, Ridges.
The Old Pulteney 21 Year-Old is Cleveland–The haters may hate, but it has world-class museums, a world-class orchestra, a world-class dance troupe, and a low cost of living. Bring the love for the Old Pulteney 21.
Our thanks to Brian Johnson and InterBev Group for the sample!