Nose: subtle and discreet, this has candlewax and pouches full of faded dried herbs (distant thyme and oregano), though not pot-pourri. Deeper nosing doubles down on those herbs, and adds a spoonful of vanilla custard. It veers towards metal, with empty tin cans and old cheap cutlery to supplement the (lemon) thyme and dried hawthorn. The second nose is as subtle; a whiff of flowers in a greenhouse, cactuses on a window sill, faded leaves in a planter, and an old sheet of cardboard. Mouth: lukewarm and bitter, this is a herbal infusion drunk from a tin can. Pencil-sharpener blades follow, new razor blades, moving to quarry chippings and street pebbles. It is rather desiccating, and, well, not the most-approachable whisky there is. Chewing reveals its warmth, yet it does not become more welcoming. Warm metal is all. The second sip has grist so dry it may as well be medieval dust, and the bitterness of green hazel leaves. That is somewhat balanced by a minty nut paste that does not fully convince. Finish: the same herbs and metal crash the gob for a second, and, fortunately, open the door to a much more pleasant minty custard, and even some fruits. That turns out to be fleeting, however: soon, bitter tin is all that stays on the tongue, with quarry chippings filling the gaps between the teeth. Gritty. The second gulp is bolder with the minty custard. It is trying to offer a pine-tree freshness, but never gets there. The death sees glossy paper, which anyone who has tried to chew it will know is not exactly delicious. Original, though!
https://theoldmanofhuy.blogspot.com/2025/03/24032025-mystery-sample-6.html
This Finglassie drop is incredibly underrated - honeyed smoothness with the airy smoke and depth of £200 bottles. Will go onto my repeat buys from now on.