Banana bread French toast, a side of walnut-sage pesto, on a plate with an attar of roses and cream of tartar slurry in one corner. Hoopoe tailfeathers stuffed in a tiny pillow. The Selfish Giant’s beard trimmings peppering the sink.
The heat on the mouth of this dram cries out for water. I ignore the cries and continue ahead. Cedar shavings from a set of colored pencils kept in a shoebox. Lemon zester balanced on the oak chest of a jester (his name is Max). Some rosemary-flavored butter in a stoneware butter bell.
Finish is high and sweet. Think Little Orphan Annie on her first helicopter flight. Tart and even prim, this is not a changeable finish. It’s brine slurped from the cupped hands of an elf. Where he has got it is not clear. From an elvish estuary in an elvish land? Quiet pools in an ancient salt mine? A gift shop after a modern desalination plant tour? One thing is certain: he was drinking orange peel liqueur from a calfskin earlier that morning.
–Our thanks to Diageo for the sample!