[Here’s yet another review of one of the current offerings from the Scotch Malt Whisky Society. Check out the beginning of this other post for more on these reviews. If you want to find out more about the SMWS or their bottlings, visit www.smws.com]
On the nose, it’s clearly the innards of a molded orange, preserved by the thick skin that refused to let the rot through, until it smashed against my head and split open, the juicy flesh sliding past my ear as I shake off the shock of the blow and then get back to my creamsicle. On the mouth, the creamsicle persists, but there are hints of high quality charcoal, too, half-cooled and striking the other side of my head. Who’s doing that? Is there someone attacking me? Actually, it’s hard to focus on the answer to those questions, the mouth is so big and powerful. Cruising across my tongue and down my throat, the finish is an up close and personal conflagration, covering everything, it seems, like the stray piece of charcoal that found its way into my shirt pocket–and spread from there. Add a little water, and the shirt stops burning your flesh, but the mouth also gets a lot sweeter and rounder and a little lemony-er and maybe even slightly better.
The SMWS 33.113 is my roommate pelting me from the apartment window with the fruit I left too long on the kitchen counter and the contents of the hibachi grill I left to cool in the kitchen sink–Look, it’s the best I could do to wrap up this pseudo-plot in short order, okay?