Appearance: Old gold in color with haphazard legs, and little in the way of beading.
Nose: Aside from a blast of tangy peat smoke, I’m picking up scents of old books, leather, butter caramel, limestone, blue cheese crumbles, smoked salmon, hazelnut, white grape, sweet bourbon, and a faint whisper of mint (which is usually found in 18-plus year single malt Scotch whiskies). Perhaps refill wood that formerly had housed older whiskies was used in this Octomore’s aging process for some of the casks?
Palate: The dominating peat presence is not unexpected for a whisky with over 300 ppm! The peat is multiform, rather than merely uniform. Within an outer shell of dried bog-on-fire, one catches hints of burning briar wood, burning driftwood, and even the glowing end of a lit sage stick. Yes, and there’s also a “gourmet” bong resin type thing going on. Hmm. Am I allowed to say that? In my younger years, I roomed with hipsters who left funny looking contraptions lying around, but of course I never attempted to use one.
Aside from peat, peat, and more peat . . . let’s explore what else the elemental spirit has to offer. I’m also getting pan-fried rattle snake, black truffle, wasabi, dried seaweed, baker’s chocolate, maraschino cherry, bergamot, sawdust, used motor oil, and an Australian oilskin jacket exhumed from the grave of Ned Kelly.
All told, such a diverse spectrum of flavors makes for a very unique tasting experience. As for the length of this “undead” finish, it will keep haunting your mouth like vampire blood–that is, unless you decide to brush your teeth, gargle with mouthwash, and bless yourself with holy water.