The Compass Box Flaming Heart 2015 Limited Edition

Tasting notes:
Wow, I’m struck by the smokiness and char.  “Flaming” heart, indeed!  I’m nosing the ruins of the Alexandria library through a still-sappy poplar straw.  There’s a bright, even winey, juiciness in there, no doubt, but mostly there is just ruin.  I have the feeling of walking through an art exhibition—call it a “happening,” if you must—long after the police have broken it up.  There is everywhere a fugitive quality: doors closed, opportunities lost, Cupid’s arrows poorly notched and misfiring repeatedly, and the smell of one’s birthright smoldering in the rage-filled breast of one’s nemesis.

And yet, on the mouth, there is some promise of redemption: an ashtray used to serve Weetabix to a child, milk from the udder, a pewter spoon warmed by eager lips and obliging hands.  The smoke now turns warm and inviting, offering the promise of comfort not destruction.  And then I understand: they have pulled this fine blend through a giant hookah.  A check of the label confirms it.  They say it’s not chill filtered, but nothing says its not hookah filtered by the tremendous bellows of a gentle giant’s lungs.

The finish is long, a slow draining porcelain tub with claw feet and lots of cast-iron appointments.  Arachne weaves a hemp rope around my tongue and dabs my checks with nectar-based tar.  Oh, wait, that’s her silk around my tongue and neck, and the sweet tar is her poison!  Ah, well, I think to myself, there are worse ways to die.  As the sweet, limb-loosening liquid overspreads me and my pulse slows, I find myself reaching for my glass to take one more wonderful sip.

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