Single Malt Report: Glenmorangie Quinta Ruban

Three years ago, something went askew with my palete.  I started experiencing a harsh sour-bitter finish with most of the whiskies I drank.  They would start out fine in the nose and palate, at first, then suddenly something awful would sneak up and take over.  Though I've never sipped ammonia, I'm pretty sure it would finish similar to the sensation I was experiencing.

It started with Glenmorangie's Quinta Ruban.  My buddy, James, and I had a bottle for our brief (but epic) scotch club.  Oddly, I didn't mind the Finlaggan that was brought to the session.  But the Quinta Ruban just went bad in my mouth.  It was awful, felt poisonous.  Then, some days later, I noticed the same sensation with Glenlivet 12 and then JW Black Label.  Very different whiskys, same sour-bitter finish.

So I eased up on whisky for a year.  I was mostly drinking Irish whiskey; Jameson and Powers.  That was about the time I fell for Macallan 17yr Fine Oak.  Besides it being generally marvelous, it avoided that horrible finish.  Perhaps thanks to that Mac, I was cured of those sour-bitter experiences, just in time for my bachelor's party.  Just.  In.  Time.

Since then I've discovered that when a whisky gets too warm in my glass some of that bitterness creeps back in.  But other than that, I've been freed.  Thank goodness.  It's always had me wondering, has anyone else experienced this?

It's been 3 1/2 years since that Quinta Ruban evening, so including it in this Taste Off was a big whisky step for me.

GLENMORANGIE QUINTA RUBAN

Distillery: Glenmorangie
Ownership: Louis Vuitton Moet-Hennessy (accents and umlauts not included)
Age: minimum 12 years
Maturation: first- and second-fill ex-Bourbon American oak casks for the first 10 years or so, then around two years in former ruby port pipes
Region: Highlands (Northern)
Alcohol by Volume: 46%
Chill-filtered: No.
Colored: Possibly not.

Neat --
Its color, with its pinks and crimson, is a rosy dark gold.  The nose leads with sour port, then lots of lemon.  Then an orange smoothie, a tiny bit of tobacco, hay, and milk chocolate.  The palate is maltier than Lasanta and the port is relatively reserved.  There's some late harvest sauvignon blanc and apple juice.  Then muscato, green grapes, and sweet lemon.  The finish, port (surprise?).  Port.  Some more port.  Bitter lemon, muscato, and then some general sourness.

With water (approx 32.25%) --
The nose is much simpler.  Port, cherries, oranges.  The palate doesn't swim well.  It's very quiet; a little salty with brown sugar and some port-soaked sugar cookies.  It also finishes quietly.  The port is lighter, maybe there's some sweet molasses.  But it's mostly port and watered down whisky.

I'll lead with the positive.  Unlike Lasanta, a lot of the Glenmorangie malt's citrus notes are present alongside the port.  Even though they don't merge completely, it's nice to find less cream cheese on the bagel.

The bad news, the finish.  Both sorts of "finish", in fact.

Firstly, as the whisky is finished in ruby port pipes, the result is still just whisky with port on top.  As our commenters have pondered, who are these finished whiskys for?  I'm assuming this one is for port lovers.  A question to port lovers: wouldn't a little Fonseca or Grahams suit you better than a whole bottle of Quinta Ruban?

Secondly, the palate's finish goes wrong.  It's a different bitter-sour element than the one I'd experienced before.  But it's still bitter-sour.  This time it's made up of all the worst parts of citrus notes: very bitter and very sour lemon.  It's basically the opposite of "moreish".  I want to stop drinking it and drink something else......like the The Original.

Availability - Most liquor stores
Pricing - $40-$50
Rating - 73

One more Glenmorangie remains from the Taste Off.  What could it be?  And is it any good?

??????????

Single Malt Report: Glenmorangie Lasanta

Let's talk about bagels for a moment.  I've noticed many folks like to load slabs of cream cheese onto their bagels, smothering the bagel entirely, essentially creating a cream cheese delivery system.  Do they really need the bagel?  Do they know what the bagel, hiding under the cream cheese, tastes like?

Sometimes we see those gas station bagels.  You know the ones that have been sitting the fridge section for two weeks.  They come pre-packaged with cream cheese.  They probably need a significant schmear because they are tasteless on their own.

But what about the fresh baked bagels hot out of the oven from the local bakery?  Do they really need a choking of white spread?  Did you try the bagel first?  What if the bagel itself was good?  Would you know?

Personally, I lust after peanut butter.  Whenever I'd get a tasteless bagel, a proper thud of PB set it right.  Again, a delivery system.

Of course, nowadays I eat a total of three bagels a year and only if I know they're delicious on their own.  And by "on their own", I mean with a conservative spread of butter while they're hot.  The salty addition seeps down and gets absorbed by the bread, merging erotically (yes erotically, it's butter) creating a single unit.  1 + 1 = 1.

Or if I want peanut butter, I skip the bagel and just eat peanut butter.

---

So.  Sherried malts.  I've been having a difficult time with some of them recently.  I often find the sherry character so strong and so separate from the whisky, that I appreciate the sherry part but can't find much of malt beneath.  Then I wonder if I'd be better off just buying a half case of mid-shelf Jerez instead of a single malt shivering beneath the fortified weight.

I'm not saying this true with all ex-Sherry European oak matured whisky.  Many old ones and a few young ones have reached a state where the oak, wine, and spirit have fused into a single unit.  From Longmorn-Glenlivet 1967-2003 (Scott's Selection) to Glenfarclas 105, these whiskies are lovely happy drammy experiences.  But, for me, they're becoming the exception rather than the rule.

While I tend to like refill-sherry cask whiskys due to the toned down effect, it's the "sherry finished" whiskys that seem so...I don't know...CREAM CHEESE and bagel.  Perhaps its the Glencairn glass?  I didn't notice it so much before, when I would drink from wide mouthed tumblers.

This brings me to Glenmorangie Lasanta.  In 2007, LVMH replaced the Glenmorangie Sherry Wood Finish bottling with Lasanta.  It was still 12 years old -- the 10 year with at least another two years finishing in oloroso casks -- but it came in that new sexy bottle and had a name that sounded Spanish (but is actually Gaelic for warmth and passion).  The price was also $10-15 higher.  I bought one.

I had enjoyed the old Sherry Wood Finish bottling quite a bit.  It taught the potential of whisky finishing to this drinker here who knew nothing except that he preferred his liquor straight.  I thought the Lasanta tasted different or maybe that was the bottle and price talking.

I never bought a second bottle.  By that time my whisky ship had become unmoored, sailing into all sorts of strange waters.  When I could afford it, I was grabbing new bottles of all sorts.  Knowing that a number of whisky buddies still keep bottles of Lasanta in their whisky stash, I made sure to add it to a future Taste Off.  And here it is.


GLENMORANGE LASANTA

Distillery: Glenmorangie
Ownership: Louis Vuitton Moet-Hennessy (accents and umlauts not included)
Age: minimum 12 years
Maturation: first- and second-fill ex-Bourbon American oak casks for the first 10 years or so, then around two years in ex-oloroso sherry casks
Region: Highlands (Northern)
Alcohol by Volume: 46%
Chill-filtered: No.
Colored: Possibly not.

Firstly, neat --
The color is dark gold, maybe a little bit of auburn in there.  If those weren't first fill casks, then at least they were re-seasoned thoroughly.  The nose leads with a sandy dusty sherry, a lot of it.  Then there's plaster, burnt wheat bread, Elmer's glue.  Underneath that is stewed apricots and warm plums.  Cardboard, raisins, and apples.  The palate is full of dry sherry.  Stewed raisins and prunes.  Dried apricots.  Cinnamon and sugar.  A little molasses and a tiny bit of cereal grains underneath.  But the sherry keeps getting stronger as whisky and oxygen entangle.  The finish is a softer lighter sherry, dry tannins, dried fruit.

The Glenmorangie malt is nowhere to be found in here.  Those two years in sherry casks have covered it.  The only hints of the spirit are the plaster, glue, molasses, and sugar notes (not necessarily the best notes).  It can be puckeringly dry on some sips.  And there are plenty of stone fruits to go around.  The sherry holds court.

Then, with water (approx. 32.25%ABV) --
The sherry has mellowed in the nose.  There's a hint of sulphur, but it's quiet.  Some of citrus peeps out from deep down.  The palate, sherry.  It's a little yeasty and papery now.  But there's a nice sweet milk chocolate note in there too.  The finish is surprisingly strong.  It's all tannic musky cream sherry, but it still lasts a good long time.

That distant hint of citrus in the nose reveals Lasanta's spiritual roots, and maybe even that milk chocolate moment.

Otherwise, is this one unit?  If so, is that unit Sherry?  Should the excellent spirit be so silent?  I'm split on this one.  I enjoyed it, but not as much as I used to.  I never detected so much sherry before.  And I do mean Sherry, more than European oak.

Overall, it doesn't match up to Glenfarclas, Macallan, or Glendronach's sherried malts; though those are matured entirely in the European oak, rather than "finished" like Lasanta.  Perhaps more time provides a better opportunity for malt, oak, and wine to work it out together.  I'm not giving up on sherried malts, in fact I'm going to dig further.

I've seen bottles of the ol' Sherry Wood Finish from time to time in corner liquor marts.  If I find one at a reasonable price, I may get it.  Partially for old times' sake, partially to compare and contrast, partially to find out what's going on with my Sherry Detector's sensitivity.

If this doesn't make sense yet, perhaps the next Glenmorangie review will help clarify.  At least it will have fewer crappy metaphors.  Maybe.

Availability - Most liquor stores
Pricing - $40-$50
Rating - 77

Single Malt Report: Glenmorangie 10 year old "The Original"

The Glenmorangie Taste Off starts at the beginning.  The Original.  The 10 year.

The 10 year old was likely the first, or one of the first, single malts that Glenmorangie released.  Charlie McLean mentions in his Scotch Whisky: A Liquid History and Whiskypedia books that Glenmorangie had very small single malt releases in the late 1970s and didn't even advertise them until 1981.  One of the Malt Maniacs has rated a cream-labeled bottle from some time near 1975, while several other MMs have sampled a bottle from 1982.  Both of these bottles were 10-years.  So perhaps, a 10-year release was "the original" bottling.

The packaging itself has changed, going from a classic flat-sided vessel and rustic inscription to a unique curvy bottle with a more expensive-looking modern label.

FROM THIS:

TO THIS:

That's Louis Vuitton Moet-Hennessy at work.  In theory the whisky stays the same but everything else  changes around it.  And that's a damn sexy bottle.

But I really like the old two-color plain-printed label in a regular ol' booze container.  But I'm old timey like that.

Did the whisky change?  A lot of the great whisky writers have said so.  Until I get my hands on the old stuff, all I can go is by memory of the less-old whisky.  Some time around 2005-2006, during the final days before the aesthetic makeover, I polished off a bottle of the 10-year.  Next to its fancy-finished cousins, it struck me as a bit plain, something I wouldn't mind splashing onto ice during a hot summer but that was about it.  So I didn't go back for a second bottle.

Since some theories say that our bodies go through a full cellular regeneration every seven years or so, then, yes, I have changed.  And even if that theory is crap, my experiences have changed my thought process, values, and tastes during that time.  So let's drink it again.

GLENMORANGIE 10-YEAR-OLD "THE ORIGINAL"

Distillery: Glenmorangie
Ownership: Louis Vuitton Moet-Hennessy (accents and umlauts not included)
Age: minimum 10 years
Maturation: first- and second-fill ex-Bourbon American oak casks
Region: Highlands (Northern)
Alcohol by Volume: 43%

First, neatly --
Color-wise, it's where pale amber meets chardonnay.  My crummy phone pic to the left, almost does it justice.  The nose starts with cocoa for a split second then opens up into orange zest and tangerine oil.  Lots of it!  Then angel food cake and a touch of pine.  It grows more pungent with time.  The palate holds schooners full of vanilla.  Sweet lemon, tiramisu custard, golden raisins rolled in brown sugar.  It finishes with vanilla, vanilla, vanilla.  Then some pear juice, white frosting, and granulated sugar.

Yum.  That worked.

Then, with water (approx. 32.25% ABV) --
The nose shrinks a bit.  It's all Sunkist orange soda and vanilla extract.  The palate gets a little bready, a little vegetal.  But it's mostly malty and toffee sweet.  It finishes with a watered-down rum note, some nondescript citrus, and quite a bit of the toffee.

It mostly held together with the water, but the neat serving was where it's at.  I was genuinely shocked by how enjoyable it was.  It's a full step more enjoyable and noteworthy than most other beginner malts.

It's very light, so it would make for excellent spring and summer drinkin', even when neat.  I recently read that it can even be added to champagne to make a cocktail.  How one enjoys one's whisky is up to him or her, but, personally, if I mix anything with champagne, I end up pissing my pants and molesting the freezer before the night is over.  Or so I've been told.

So what I'm saying is, I found Glenmorangie 10yr to be a good value and an excellent Highland starter whisky.

Availability - Most liquor stores
Pricing - $27-$38
Rating - 87

The Glenmorangie Taste Off: An Introduction

The Nina, The Pinta, and The Santa Maria
(and a surprise malt)

To begin with...

This was the largest home Taste Off I have done (up to this point).  I normally do two or three whiskies per 'Off; this allows me to compare and contrast with sensory clarity.

Bringing a fourth whisky into a Taste Off required some rules.  Firstly, I would only be consuming 25mL of each of the three minis.  The good news, less booze blur.  The bad news, less to test, so my senses would be allowed little room for failure.  The good news, I'd have some left over to enjoy sans-analysis on another night.

So, 25mL of whiskies 1 through 3, and all of the 30mL (actually 28mL) of whisky #4.  I allowed two hours for the full experience.  I had a stack of John Lee Hooker records on hand for the soundtrack.

Glenmorangie and I

In my whisky youth, after the Glenlivets and Glenfiddichs and Macallans and blends, there was Glenmorangie.  The 10 year old and the earlier version of the Sherry Wood Finish to be specific.

It was the step before Oban and Talisker and anything peated.  I remember spending many lunch breaks standing in front of the Montgomery County Liquor store whisky shelves, ogling the Sherry, Port, Madeira, and Burgundy Finishes.  I always wanted to get the Burgundy one (the hardest one to find), but never had the courage to just get it.

I have plenty of fond memories of the Sherry Wood Finish and I am certain that its current iteration, the Lasanta, isn't the same whisky.  Either that, or memories have been candy coated.

The Distillery

I want to be within this picture. (pic source)

Originally the site, standing on a Morangie farm, was used as a brewery.  In 1843, William Matheson (also co-owner of Balblair and relative of the Dalmore founder) bought a pair of tall skinny former gin pot stills, as well as a distiller's license, and set out to make some spirits on the site.  By 1887, funding and support had grown to the point that a full rebuild was done on the distillery and the Glenmorangie Distillery Company Limited was founded.  The company was sold to Macdonald & Muir and Durham & Company in 1918; about 20 years later Macdonald & Muir (M&M) became 100% owners.  In the late '70s a Glenmorangie single malt hit the markets.  In the early '90s they began tinkering with wine cask finishes.  In 1996, Glenmorangie Public Limited Company was formed.  In 1997 Glenmorangie PLC bought the Ardbeg distillery.  Seven years later, Louis Vutton Moet-Hennessey (LVMH) purchased the entire company.

Upon this big acquisition, LVMH set out to transform Glenmorangie into more of a luxury brand.  In 2007, all of the old bottles with their rustic labeling were pulled from the shelves to be replaced new slender bottles, contemporary labels and packaging, and all new cosmopolitan sounding names.  Sherry Wood Finish because Lasanta.  Port Wood Finish became Quinta Ruban.  "Private Edition" limited releases began rolling out every year, and rare old bottlings started hitting the market.

Luckily for LVHM, they had two whisky geniuses creating the products: Bill Lumsden and Rachel Barrie.  A company can make the packaging lovely, but the product within needs to excel as well.  And many of them do.

As far as sales go, Glenmorangie has been the best (or one of the best) selling single malts in Scotland for the last 25 years, and were fifth in the world (as of 2010).  The strength of that revenue is due to their classic 10-year bottling (now called 'The Original').

The Original, nude of fancy finishes, shows off the light citric spirit created by the extra-long 17-foot stills.  I'll go out on a limb here and say that The Original sells well not because of lovely packaging, but because it's an easy-drinking whisky suitable for all climates and has consistently been priced well.

My Taste Off included The Original, along with Lasanta, Quinta Ruban, and one of their Private Editions.  I'll cover two this week, then two next week (ending with the mystery malt) and talk about some conclusions.

Fail...er...Adventures in Home Blending, Part 3

They're baaaa-aaaaaack.

Actually, I couldn't bring myself to finish either of the minis, so I bottled an equal remained amount of each: 0.5oz and 0.5oz.

I called it:

SPEY SPEY

As you can tell, I put about as much imagination into that name as The Speyside Distillery put into their own.

To counter any zingers about The Speyside I always mention the great indie bottler, Scott's Selection,  their company owns.  Their distributor has an AWESOME rep, Monique Huston, who is whisky brilliant and also awesome.  Much of The Speyside malt goes into their McGavin's blends, of which I recommend the peated Highland blend over the non-peated Speyside blend.

As for Speyburn?  I divulged all I know in last week's post.

So let's get back to this glamo(u)rous home vatted malt.  It was one ounce-worth in total, weighing in at 43% ABV.  It spent 11 days intermingling.  Let's see how it turned out.

October 25, 2012
NEAT:
Color -- Apple juice
Nose -- Vodka and farts. Then vodka farts (there's a subtle difference). Corn chips, ripe apples, nail polish remover, The Turps, barley grains.
Palate -- Not much going on; sweet cream, cheap cologne, some alcohol zip. There's a lightly floral moment. Not actual flowers though, more like bathroom spray (to cover up the vodka farts? No.).
Finish -- Moderate, sweeter, sugary breakfast cereal

W/WATER:
Nose -- Brussels sprouts, burnt grass, rotten eggs
Palate -- Quiet, alcohol, floral bathroom spray remains, late sweetness, creamy, reminiscent of a mild blend.
Finish -- More floral bathroom spray, lightly sweet

Though perhaps not as bad as the notes read, this blend should not be repeated.

Now let us never speak of this again.

Fail...er...Adventures in Home Blending, Part 2

I am blessed.  I have a great home.  I have a brilliant lovely partner.  I can still be moved by art and poetry.  I am ambulatory and conscious.  My five senses still work when required.  My vital signs and general health metrics meet or better acceptable levels.  And I live in a time and place where (and when) I can type these words which appear instantly on a glowing screen, then click a "Publish" button which instantly releases them into a universe where people I've never met can find and read them at their leisure on their own glowing screens.

I complain a lot in my daily life, but that's mostly due to laziness.  It's easier to allow the many (mostly minute) inconveniences to direct one's focus away from the more profound gifts.  It's a considerable challenge to climb above the distractions to see the good clearly.

So, I'd like to say right now: I am so lucky.  So lucky to not have to choose between Duggan's Dew and Clan Macgregor as a nightcap.  Instead, an almost infinite number of decisions and opportunities have brought a number of enjoyable whiskies into reality, then into my whisky closet.

Most recently, bottles of Old Pulteney 12 and Kilchoman Machir Bay found their way here, both through unusual chance -- a friend wanted to sell one and a shop had mis-priced the other.  They were good bottles.  Were.  They are both now empty.  But not before I merged the two into...


KILL PULTENEY BAY

3 parts Old Pulteney 12
1 part Kilchoman Machir Bay
16 days married in the dark.  An ABV of 43.75%.

I did my best to better obey the two blending rules that I listed yesterday.  Little goes a long way with peated whiskys and leave the blend some time to mingle.  I was actually going to give it a week, but other fine things kept me occupied.

Let's see what happened.

October 22, 2012
NEAT:
Color -- Medium amber
Nose -- Nice oak, vanilla & cookie dough, maybe some distant sherry, berries, notebook paper, mild peat, toffee, angel food cake, and butterscotch.
Palate -- The Kilchoman punched me in the mouth! Somehow feels even peatier this way. More vegetal than smoky.  Moss.  Some white fruits, like pears.
Finish -- More Kilchoman. Some more veggies. Vanilla. A little sour. Eventually some bitterness.

With time there were more baked goods on the nose, but also a considerable bitterness gained steam in the mouth.

WITH WATER (38% ABV)
Nose -- Maltier, less peat, almost a lightly peated Glenfiddich 12, ammonia
Palate -- Peat and Windex, more white fruity sweetness
Finish -- Bitter and sweet, a touch of peat, some sourness, getting very bitter

Shucks.  This thing can't swim, in water or oxygen.  All the promise of the nice nose and decent palate went angry and cruddy with time and water.

The sourness may be courtesy of a fruit-sour note often found in OP12.  The bitterness, I can't explain.  It's not there upon first pour.  Nor after 15 covered minutes.  But once air gets in, bitter compounds begin to bloom.  Adding water causes these fed-after-midnight gremlins to multiply, air and time does the rest.  It feels like dark shadow of sweet peat.

But let's get back to the positive things I've learned.  Kilchoman is a muscular kid, beating down the old Pulteney with ease.  The neat nose is great.  The experiment was fun and absolutely worth it.

We'll travel a different path with the next home blended malt...

Fail...er...Adventures in Home Blending, Part 1

Unless that whisky in your hand is a from a single cask, bottled at its actual cask strength, you're drinking a blend.

Blended Whisky -- A mix of many barrels of malt whisky from different distilleries with many more barrels of grain whisky, watered down to 40%-43% ABV.

Blended Malt -- A medley of single malts from multiple distilleries, usually watered down to a 40%-46% range.

Single Malts -- A blend of hundreds, sometimes thousands of different casks of malt whisky from a single distillery, then often mixed with a portion of local water.

High-strength single malts, like Glenlivet and Glenfarclas 105 --  Blends of numerous casks, kept at a high ABV, and sometimes even watered down a bit obtain the profile desired by the producer.

Though the term "blend" has had a negative connotation (courtesy of cheap low-quality brown stuff) in the whisky world, blending is not a bad thing.  In fact it's an art.  It can be alchemy, mixing multiple whiskies with completely different characteristics in order to achieve a single statement.  It's adding 4 + 3 and somehow getting 8.  Sometimes the results are modern delights like Ardbeg Uigedail or Balvenie Tun 1401.  Sometimes the results are more perfunctory, with blends like Johnnie Walker Red Label and Dewars White Label.

From David Stewart to Rachel Barrie, the Master Blender can be a distillery's most valuable asset, aside from the amber liquid itself.  They're the ones who figure out the recipe, the flavor, nose, texture, finish, the entire experience.

It wasn't until I listened to an extensive interview with John Glaser of Compass Box (courtesy of David Driscoll of K&L Wines), that I ever considered tinkering with my own blends.  Glaser had been making small blends for friends for years while working for Johnnie Walker's corporate office before he made the leap to start his own whisky company.  The man has since mastered the magic of blended malts (Flaming Heart, Peat Monster, Oak Cross, Spice Tree) and his every new release is a cause for excitement.

I took Glaser's words as encouragement.  So I gave blending a try.

I am no John Glaser.

ROUND 1: The Benbeg Sauternes

I owned two bottles of which I had very separate opinions.
1.  The Ardbeg Ten -- loved it; would take a stinky bath in it if I could; plus I had some whisky to spare in a mostly full bottle.
2.  Benriach 16yr Sauternes Finish -- was down to the end of the bottle; did not love the stuff; can understand some of the appeal of the wine finish, but it was far from being appealing to my palate.

I wondered, "What would a young Ardbeg taste like with a French wine finish?"  So I mixed up a tiny batch.

First rule of blending: A little bit of peat goes a loooooooooooooooooong way.

I did not know this at the time.  Now I know.

I mixed five parts Ardbeg Ten with three parts Benriach 16yr Sauternes Finish.  In hindsight, I probably should have rethought that ratio.

The mix, the home vatted malt, was married for a mere 48 hours in a little glass bottle.

Second rule of blending: Let your blend marry. Allow the new couple some time to get to know each other.

48 hours was probably not enough.  But I don't think time would have rescued this relationship.  Here are my notes:


March 12, 2012
NEAT:
Color -- Sauvignon Blanc
Nose -- Sweet, meaty, hammy.  Honey and baked bananas.  Mellows with time, but there's lots of ham.
Palate -- Peat wins this round. Some band-aids. Butter. Boston creme. Drying yet sweet.
Finish -- Long peat smoke only, very drying

W/WATER:
Nose -- Sauternes finish up front like a sickly sweet varnish
Palate -- Very creamy, brown sugar, Ardbeg peat, gets quite bitter
Finish -- Sweetens up, grainy, then more bitterness. A heavy NutraSweet aftertaste.

Actually, these notes are very polite.  For a more accurate measurement, here's the lone final comment from my notes:
"never again".

Neat, it was ham and peated Boston creme pie.
With water, peated bittersweet varnish that I couldn't scrub off my tongue.

Happily, I only used 50mL of whisky.  Unhappily, I drank the whole 50mL.  Later, I woke up in the middle of the night with the reek still on me.  Don't do this.  Don't repeat this blend.

Two questions then arose, what if I blended two malts I like?  And what if I blend two malts I don't?

Let's find out those answers this week.