Truthfully, I was not very surprised to be underwhelmed by Tomatin 12. Once I discovered the sheer volume of malt whisky the distillery is capable of producing, and the fact that most of its wares are destined for blends, my expectations plummeted. Granted, I didn't hate it though. Well, maybe the finish, but overall it just fell short of what I have come to expect in a Highland malt.
In selecting my next Highland malt, I hoped I had discovered a perfect contrast to my Tomatin experience. Edradour (ED-druh-dewr) is one of the smallest distilleries in all of Scotland, producing just 90,000 L pure ethanol per year (as opposed to 10.5 million L from Glenlivet). It was the smallest until 2005 (the bottle's label still claims the title), until Kilchoman opened on Islay, and supposedly there are two even smaller in the works.
Nestled in Perthshire, amidst the Southern Highlands (or depending on who you ask - Eastern Highlands, or even 'Midlands', Scottish geography can be complicated), the Edradour Distillery fancies itself the last holdout to the Victorian days of farmhouse whisky production. The stills themselves remain the smallest in Scotland (per their website), yet they still manage to produce an implausible 25 different single malt expressions of various cask finishes. Supposedly the entire distillery has a staff of 3. My office has 3 people answering phones. By the way, there is actually a 'help wanted' link for a tour guide position if you happen to be underemployed and would like to chat about whisky all day. Hmm... is there a 401K?
I got a decent preview of the nose just pulling the cork and pouring the first dram, usually a good sign. A deep orange, almost rusty hue came to mind as I swirled it around the Glencairn glass. Thick, syrupy legs dripping ever so slowly down the sides of the bulb, Looks like it's going to pack a punch.
Loads of dried fruit on the nose - cherries, currants, raisins maybe. The sherry character is forefront though, sweet and nutty, roasted almonds in this case. Vanilla and a fistful of spice are kicking around as well, reminiscent of horchata. Good deal of complexity in the aromas, maybe I'll just sit and sniff this stuff for a while. You can't really do that at a bar. People start to wonder what the hell is wrong with your drink.
The palate is harder to pinpoint. Full-body malt. Notably thick mouth feel. A sherry bomb for sure. Couldn't find any smoke, but the fruit, spice, and sweetness are all pretty full flavored. I'm having a hard time picking out individual notes though. I can't decide if this is a more complex malt than I expected, or perhaps the balance is a bit off kilter. Liquid fruitcake? Steamed artichoke? I really am enjoying it though, so why is this bugging me so much?
At this point I turn to the internet and discover I am not alone in my assessment. I find some unusual descriptions associated with a malt whisky: "cloying, seductive murkiness, rum..." (Master of Malt), "fungal woodiness...borderline rancid oxidized wine flavor" (Scotch Noob, and this is from a rave review), and the craziest review I've ever seen, "Soap. Molasses & mint. Eucalyptus?...Old vomit. Rotting wood...Stomach acid." (Malt Madness, not from a rave review).
I love the qualifying clarification of "old vomit". In fairness, the Malt Madness reviewer did try the Edradour 10 in a different bottling and had a more pleasant experience. Every once in a blue moon, you can get dealt spoiled whisky. Can't say it's happened to me with scotch, but I certainly have opened some potentially biohazardous bottles of wine before. Maybe we'll look into why that happens in a later post, I'm curious myself.
I mused over these critiques as I tasted the Edradour 10 on subsequent occasions. The two I kept coming back to were "fungal woodiness" and "rum". Upon taking a sip and closing my eyes, I tried imagining a misty morning hike down the Buttermilk Trail after a five day rain, wild mushrooms and moss sprouting in the soft decay. Definitely works as a stress-reducing happy place (snakes be damned), but also serves as a spot on assessment for the earthy flavors I had trouble articulating.
As far as the rum character, that miasma of dried fruit, spice notes, and thick texture does in fact remind me of a dark rum. Maybe I was on the right track with horchata. But before you pour it into your lime green Margaritaville blender to make an icy batch of peach daiquiris, take a step back. This is more of an egg nog experience than anything with an umbrella garnish. Winter scotch. Go put on a turtleneck.
The finish was medium long, warming, and left behind plenty of sherry oak and dried fruit notes. No bitterness, no ethanol sting, very satisfying. Overall, my favorite part of Edradour 10 was that it offered up a truly unique single malt experience. The fact that a staff of three people can produce this stuff, literally from the ground up, in 25 varieties no less, and get it to a random liquor store shelf 4000 miles away in Richmond, Virginia, is mighty impressive [cue slow clap]. I do admit I'm still curious about the 'old vomit' batch though; and if it's still out there... somewhere... waiting to strike again.
Overall Grade: 89/100, B+
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