The North Highland 1996 17 yo opens taking a ride with Maple Oat scones on an oakbark raft, cutting through class 4 rapids of walnut liqueur. There are Yew trees, limestone outcrops, cormorants and a tributary (involuntary) of Bigfoot’s urine stream; an essential ingredient of communal rites of the Bella Coola, Nez Perce, Nootka, and Snohomish northwestern coast indigenous peoples. We also got curdled lemon cream smeared on a freshly-painted alabaster statue of Aphrodite. (What else could it be?)
It’s light in the mouth in an iridescent, wobbly, entrancing way: Kind of a woozy anglerfish imitating a drunkard’s walk, not exactly on the hunt for prey, just feeling groovy. Kinda also like in Clash of Clans when hidden Teslas wait to erupt out of the ground to destroy the invaders. (What is the riddle of steel?) The invaders were, naturally, undone due to their exclusive diet of lemon caramel soufflés.
It’s hot, like a bright rocket fuel poured like melty butterscotch sauce all over the gantry when an overeager NASA worker prematurely pulls the hose out of the rocket socket. It coats the tongue—it does NOT tongue the coat, no matter what John says—and burns the back palate. It’s a back-alley tonsillectomy when you can’t afford it or are stuck in a state where they’re illegal.
The finish is an herbal poultice/lemon sage butter foot balm from your new age energy worker seeking to heal the ozone hole in your soul, man. And that hole was created by a fiery missile launch (but not the earlier rocket).
The North Highland 17 Year 1996 from The Exclusive Casks is spatchcocking a squonk.–I’d like to believe this phrase has never before appeared on the internet; it is therefore a new, rare, and wondrous thing—much like the North Highland 17 Year 1996.
–Our thanks to Sam Filmus and ImpEx for the sample!