The GlenDronach 12 nose tantalizes with buttered plums being sautéed in a carbon steel wok (maple handles, unfinished) with fresh corn niblets, a sprinkle of brown sugar, just barely ripe guava, and three pea-sized pieces of Wagyu 5 Kobe beef. We got also a drone made from balsa wood and cranberry nectar that is powered by Robert DeNiro’s scowls. Moreover, there is bacon grease, purified like ghee, drizzled over blueberries.
The mouth brings the tannins, the burns—including Robert and Dronac—the barns, and the bairns, all of them marbled throughout with cherrywood incense and the strength of the righteous. It’s as explosive as Gordon Ramsay is with adults who want to be chefs, but as sweet as Gordon Ramsay is with children who want to be chefs. The mouthfeel finds the Venn diagram intersection between syrupy, cloying, and puckish, which is an interesting, dare I say, almost unique to GlenDronach focal point.
The finish is consistent with the mouth, in the same way that clouds are consistent with oceans: It’s as if the mouth evaporates into the finish, growing puffier, more ameliorated, and tangential to octopi.
[John: Tangential to octopi? What have you been drinking, Bill!]
Is it not evident? Are you not entertained? Anyways, I’ll usually classify whiskies as ones where the finish is an extension of the mouth and others where the finish takes on a life of its own. There are pros and cons to both varieties, and I enjoy learning via tasting which route each distillery master opts to take. Here, it’s the former, especially if a sprinkling of vanilla frosting made its way to the finish line, along with the victorious tortoise.
On the scale of things not usually thought about regarding the pyramids of Egypt–
The GlenDronach 12 is the foundation–Why don’t they sink into the sand? Do the basements leak? What’s going on with all that?
[Stephen: Bill! What does this have to do with the GlenDronach 12?]
Oh, just that the GlenDronach 12 is a foundational whisky and pyramids are bad-ass. Boom!