For all I am an unalloyed whisky fan, in one domain I’m a bit of a Luddite. I have a range of favourite whiskies and can usually spot them in a blind tasting.
Some are peatier, some have a sweetness or saltiness to them, some are heavy, others light, and many have a touch of the sherry or port cask. However, just don’t ask me to come up with tasting notes…
I have sat through nosing and tasting sessions with some of the biggest names in the industry who can spot 100 different flavours and scents in a pretty run-of-the-mill single malt and I reckon they must have noses that would put bloodhounds to shame. They waxed long and lyrical about hints of treacle toffee and new-mown grass, pineapple and citrus, tarry string and old leather, not to mention heather honey and almond oil. And that was just after the initial sniff.
So, I have to admit the Townsend hooter must be in the remedial class because it failed to detect any of the foregoing aromas, although at the end of the day I still quite enjoyed whatever whiskies they happened to be. But that was because— surprise, surprise — they tasted and smelled of whisky…
I also confess that many of my favourite whiskies are blends and I doff my cap to the blenders who not only create them but manage to maintain that exact mouthfeel and finish for years, even decades, on end — even though the availability of certain malts and grains must vary and substitutes have to be located and brought to the blending trough each time a batch is mixed and married.
That said, I recently bought a bottle of one blend after a three or four-year gap and noted that it tasted different to the last time I tried it. It was less peaty and more spicy — and still very drinkable — but it wasn’t the same as last time… However, I recognise that, had I bought a bottle regularly, the change over the four years might have been so subtle I wouldn’t have noticed it.