Wow, the nose on this is grainy and malty, and yet completely different from both grain and malt. A wine and mushroom consume, perhaps? I’m riding through a primeval fern forest on the back of an Apatosaurus. Crimson-capped mushrooms—which are the size of really large mushrooms—have dappled sunlight on them and mischievously smiling elves underneath them. I’m carrying fortified pineapple juice in wineskins. I’m preparing for a long sea voyage.
The mouth is a postmodern conceptual artist’s study in contrasts. A concussion grenade shaped like a sugar cube. Freshly cleaned and gently buffed white mice lovingly dropped into an anaconda’s cage. Shakira’s hips in all of their dazzling veracity.
The finish is a delightful farrago. Burning anise, toasted caramels, and varnish. Star opals in a rose gold setting. A butter made from rare orchids milked in the moonlight. I am in absolute bondage to this dram. I don’t have a safe word. And don’t want one.