In Churchillian fashion, I relay this sesquipedalian missive to my amanuensis while I luxuriate in my bath. This imperishable distillation swirls languidly in my tumbler, actively erubescent, it seems, in the postmeridian sunlight. My assistant, who bears the moniker “Sherry” (a fact certain to undermine my desire to formulate luculently my thoughts on this whisky) interposes that this whisky is not “imperishable,” but rather only lacks an age statement. I counter that logomachy can easily descend into nugacity, but since her point seemed congenial enough, I take a piacular tone and take it under advisement.
This twice-distilled solution emanates Sherry. Not her, but rather Sherried cognac sprinkled with Sherry taco-bits. Again, not her taco-bits, but coriaceous nubbins soaked in the fortified wine of that name. We also found verjuice spilled from a vertiginous height onto a glinting pyrite surface and unmitigated funk.
The embouchure here is utterly Brobdingnagian…or maybe even Pantagruelian. (Sherry offers a petulant cough, and I accede: “mouth” supplants “embouchure.”) It is a session Sherry bomb with crypto-dynamic, drupaceous power. Imagine a hybrid persimmon/black cherry deracinated and then gormandized.
The finish leaps out of my throat as if an otolaryngologist disengaged it with a probang. Slightly raw, but the edges are folded meticulously. Also, it presents notes of a sabbulonarium, but one filled entirely with rock tumbled aquarium gravel trundling on the palate. It offers an insufflating finish, one that draws out sighs.
The Macallan Edition No. 1 is Donald J. Trump–His hamartia is his fanfaronade and his tendency to wander into ultracrepidarianism. Surely, electing this bachydactylous character would put the U.S. into quite the zugzwang.
–Our thanks to Sammy Karachi and the Macallan for the sample!