This opens up with notes of burned bacon and taffeta from a post-prom bonfire brunch that went, in the memorable patois of Chad, “oogie.” We also find honey from killer bees, the key element in an aggressive syrup for the uneaten waffles now cooling on earthenware plates. Singed pine needle incense tickles the nose and invites a closer look.
On the mouth we get a sluiceful of machine oil and heavy water used to rinse out a collectible transistor radio tuned to Pavarotti’s performance of “Nessun dorma.” Roasted lemon rinds used for scrawling lurid cave images haunt the epiglottis.
The finish carries forward the wonderment of dawn, in the literal sense of a dawning recognition. Here it is of an elk burger: charred on the outside, rare on the inside, and wrapped securely–like a child’s candy money gripped by a small fist–inside a well-toasted brioche bun.
The finish returns us to the lemons on the nose, but this time as gemlike lemon drops chiseled into Johnson solids by magical mathematical elves. They are using banana hammers to make the fine facets. We are impressed by their ingenuity, and resolve to fill our glasses again.
On the scale of interesting facts about Puccini–
The Octomore 13.2 is the fact that his full name is Giacomo Antonio Domenico Michele Secondo Maria Puccini–We’re here to tell you that this fine dram is secondo to none.