The SMWS 3.184

[Here is another in a long line of current offerings from the Scotch Malt Whisky Society.   (with Lo-Mob effects on the pics!)  Check out this other post for more on these reviews.  If you want to find out more about the SMWS or their bottlings, visit www.smwsa.com]

Tasting notes: 
     The nose is muted, like Louis Armstrong temporarily clouding the bright notes of his trumpet. Not that it still doesn’t scream, “I’m a 3.xxx from SMWS!” because it does. Charcoal, old Dingoes—the boots, not the canines, wet wool socks, the steel wristband of Ted Turner’s Rolex, and a well-used cat o’nine tails. Volcanic eruptions on the mouth, my arms flail like an epileptic, but no help comes. Where…where’s the button for the Malt Signal? The fire subsides, leaving carved glaciers and Black Sabbath’s original drummer, Bill Ward, laying down a propulsive hypnotic brutal beat. It’s not clear how to distinguish the finish from the mouth, and that’s a good thing in this case.
     A touch of water brings out a syrupy texture, but you’d be a fool to imagine it as benign as Aunt Jemima’s syrup. It’s more like the bottled sweat your Aunt Jamie broke into and bottled as she was reading Fifty Shades of Grey, her hands trembling, but not with old age. Grace notes of cumin, latex surgical gloves, and pond-reflected starlight. The finish is Isaac Stern’s vibrato: smooth, rhythmic, a tad woody, all Stradivarius.
  
  

                                                                             –Bill