The first thing you notice about this splendid cask strength offering is a consequence of its being a Raw Cask®: there are charred flecks of the cask at the bottom of the bottle. Lots of them, in fact. It’s like I’m looking into a snow globe designed by Andres Serrano to commemorate the ancient city of Pompei. Or a bottle of Goldschläger filled with Tammy Faye Bakker’s mascara flakes. Color me intrigued.
This noses up with a bright, solicitous welcome. It reminds me so much of the smell of new toys that I rush forward to drink it. And it is so creamy! It’s like a triple-crème cheese with so much fat it cries out to be called a quadruple. It’s got so much fat in it that when it flies, it has to click on the airline website link about “customers of size.” It’s so fat that it’s like a blue whale’s dream about its own spirit animal, a fictitious beast that is even fatter than he. If you could squeeze whole egg yolks out of a cow’s utters, you’d come close to reproducing the luscious richness in my glass. It’s like the liquefied essence of custard. And yet there’s a fruity and jammy aspect too. It’s like the best breakfast toast I’ve ever had, from the standpoint of my 6-year old self: knifehandle-thick smears of butter and fruit compote between slices of crunchy bread.
Going back to the nose, briefly, I see how there are fruity, even pineappley, pleasures there. Also white chocolate chips, banana slices cut on a rakish bias, and whiffs of packaging tape. Yup, I’m back to drinking it again and for all of the oily, fatty qualities, it’s still light. It’s like a pudgy cherub that is weightless. I’m not in the habit of calling a 58.9% ABV whiskey sessionable, but this one earns the sobriquet.
The finish is sweet, long lasting, and elegant. There is a touch of bitterness, but just enough to set off the sweetness in ever-greater splendor. It’s like eating candies your mother brought you when you were eight years old, after being on a business trip to a faraway land. You wonder about the children living there, for whom this candy is available every day, and at that moment you resolve to visit that land and meet those children.
On the scale of FAQs pertaining to marshmallow spread–
The Blackadder A Drop of the Irish is Fluff’s FAQ–Invented in 1920 in Lynn, Massachusetts, what I most admire about this product is its confidence. Their second FAQ is “My Never Fail Fudge Failed. What Happened?” I’ll tell you what happened, Fluff. You just brought the law of noncontradiction and all you’re concerned about is helping the customer make a great dessert. All eyes on pleasure. I like it.
–Our thanks to Raj Sabharwal and PVI Global for the sample!