The Single Cask Nation Glen Moray 7 Fino Cask

50 ml sacreligious liquid chametz

Tasting notes:
The Single Cask Naiton Glen Moray 7 Year Old Fino Cask has a funky opening nose, like Glen Campbell singing about rhinestone delis in the Diamond District—kinda like a middle-aged portobello mushroom, drunk on cabernet sauvignon, petting its (this is the right pronoun, because we are talking about a mushroom) moldy, winey, demusked otter kept in the basement of a Persian harem; the portobello bordello, as it were. Also in the basement: a cement box (still wet from being poured by the lower eunuchs) storing truffles confiscated from the captain’s cabin of a French frigate. As it opens, hard as it may be to believe—smelling is believing—there’s a caramel pitcher filled with fresh-squeezed grapefruit juice being poured on a fire during the rare green flash of sunset. We also got an old fruit truck—

[John: Bill, is that “(old fruit) truck” or “old (fruit truck)”?]

—both, but more the former than the latter…and finally, a joey sniffing the inside of a kangaroo’s pouch, or maybe Joey Lawrence sniffing the inside of a purse made of eucalyptus leaves.
     The mouth has high and low registers: Babar and a bat communicating about sonar and trunks in an unlikely amour platonique. Aged Stilton flambé with candied pecans, with that soupçon of pithy bitterness in the cheek. It’s fruitastic toucan turned fruit ninja, hurling carmelized tangelos, buckwheat meringues, and Rolos™ as re-engineered by François Pralus. It’s learning to love napalm, musky mouths, muskrat mouths, the maw of a river otter after an afternoon of lox stolen from campers; a cloying, syrupy, winey Roman orgy of colliding scopes; everything I love in a woman. It’s alpacas playing Goat Simulator all day and Goat Theft Auto all night.
     The finish is cheese. More cheese. Morbier cheese—stepping into a cheese aging cave that’s lined with Domincan cigars and a truculent ocelot. We also got brassieres—

[Stephen: Bill! That’s braziers!]

Maybe that’s what you got…anyways, also brazen baboons and sterno filled with psilocybin gelatin and a fruit-beef Stroganoff pie. Is it a dessert or a main course? It’s meaty, weighty, 10W-40 olive oil for Ferraris and Lamborghinis. It’s popping open a tin of freeze-dried flame-seared jerky in a weightless environment between takes of photographing Scarlett Johannson.  Sandalwood to superfruit; sandals made from sanded wood but not sandalwood.




–On the scale of Dean Martin songs–
The Single Cask Nation Glen Moray 7 Year Old Fino Cask is That’s Glen Moray!–I love the line, “When the Scotch hits your throat and the taste makes you gloat, that’s Glen Moray! When it’s up in your nose like dew on a rose, that’s Glen Moray!”

[John: Stephen, it’s not worth correcting him, is it?]

[Stephen: No, it never is.]

–Our thanks to Joshua Hatton and Single Cask Nation for the sample!


1 Comment on The Single Cask Nation Glen Moray 7 Fino Cask

  1. Bill,

    U gotta cut back on the sex w/ itinerant stray kitties & other small furry coochiecoos= it’s clearly playing havoc w/ your already somewhat flummoxed honker/puddlecups apparatus^

    Harvey Fry

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