Not since Edradour 10 had I come across a single malt whose flavors left me at a loss for words. Even its name is awkward and enigmatic - Clynelish (KLINE-leash, meaning 'slope of the garden'). There was just something... different... especially in the aromas, I could not put my finger on. On top of that, I felt like Violet Beauregarde chewing Willy Wonka's three course dinner chewing gum (minus the blueberry after effects), the flavors seemed to be constantly changing. As I write this, I still haven't made my mind if I even liked it or not, but I remind myself this was always supposed to be more about appreciating scotch instead of simply enjoying it.
My first response is to comb the internet. There are far more experienced palates than mine that can put pen to paper on this. Hmm... Well, the distillery's homepage is going for a minimalism thing, and its Wikipedia entry is only 5 sentences long. Strange, being that Clynelish produces 4.5 million L pure alcohol per year, 4th largest of the 20 Highland distilleries (26 if you include the Islands). Most of what I read about is more concerned with a convoluted history of two different distilleries, both named Clynelish, co-existing next door to each other from 1968-1983. Huh?
Most of that annual 4.5 million L production goes into Johnnie Walker Gold Label Reserve. So far, my experience with single malts from high production distilleries sending their lion's share to blends have had one common trait - a single stand-out characteristic. That could not be less true with Clynelish 14. Not only is there no readily obvious hallmark flavor, but its complexity should be a logistical nightmare to a master blender. Maybe I'm wrong on that, or maybe I have just underestimated Johnnie Walker.
Full disclosure: I'm might have to cheat a bit on this one, reading others' reviews, and see with whom I agree...
The nose is an immediate surprise. Maritime briny notes and a medium hit of peat smoke. So far this could pass for a lighter Islay malt, but you'd never guess it's from the northeastern Highlands. They do specify 'Coastal Highland' on the label at least, so the salty note should be obvious. Perhaps the peat aroma stands out more since I had just finished tasting the unpeated Scapa 16. I did get a floral/perfumed note in there as well, but I won't pretend to know what individual flowers smell like. There's obviously some fruit in there... but which? You put the glass down, pick it back up, and it's already different.
'Smoke and sea salt' are often enough to describe the aromatic qualities of many coastal malts, but it doesn't adequately encapsulate Clynelish 14, not by a long shot. This is where I need help nailing it down. So after much research, I conclude the consensus is...there is no consensus. Clynelish's own expanded tasting notes claims aromas of: "Wax comes up with water - scented candle wax. Dried flowers on a beach. Later, brown sugar." Okay, I didn't use water, but WTF?
Reviewers don't even sound like they're nosing the same whisky:
"Zesty, mandarin, tangerine. Smoky." (Master of Malt)
"Light and a little flowery with a hint of chloride. More spicy and creamy after some breathing." (Malt Madness)
"Fresh ripe plums, red grapes, indeed a whole fruit punch masking a deep, nutty barley. A sour note stands out...floral peatiness. This hint of citrus is very well integrated." (Scotch Noob)
Online commenters range from "lacquer, apricots and peach" to "suede leather oakiness". This is not helping, and without the benefit of another dram I can't exactly pick a side here. The complexity of the nose has me completely baffled. I can't decide if it makes me want to pull my hair out or stand up and start a slow clap. Guess we should probably drink some now...
The palate showcases the maritime influence of seaside cask aging. Salted caramel, clementines, seaweed, peat smoke, light spice, oaky notes, and a tannic leather flavor towards the end. During one particular sip I wrote down 'mustard', then couldn't find it again. Fantastic balance, it rounds the bases of all the major taste groups. Light but creamy in texture. The fruit notes amp up the longer I hold the sip, finally getting some of the sherry cask notes of dried fruit and nuts. There's not one powerhouse flavor in play here, and the subtlety plays well with its complexity.
Then the finish sends the malt off with a bit of a bang. The darkest notes take the longest to dissipate - leather, smoke, salt, dry, bitter. The roadhouse finish is in stark contrast to its daintier floral beginnings. Anything that starts out with 'flowers on the beach' and 'scented candle wax', then ends up sharply bitter in a well-seasoned biker jacket sounds like a hell of a story. I dig that about it, a complete metamorphosis in the course of a sip. Slow clap it is.
Overall Grade: 90/100, A-
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