Tara Taylor
May 20, 2026, 08:51:58
Aye, this dram’s a reet treat, mind. First sniff’s like stewed orchard fruits left in the sun a bit too long – bruised apple, a whiff of pear drops, an’ a dark sticky date goo lurking just behind. 🍐 On the tongue it’s like a quiet, warm handshake. A prickle of oaky spice—cinnamon an’ a flutter of cracked pepper—but it never shouts. Then the honeycombe slides in, thick an’ lazy. Feels almost chewable, like on brioche smeared with salted butter. 🍯🧈 The finish… a whisper, not a bang. A ghost of woodsmoke, a tiny tang of dried orange peel, an’ somethin’ faintly herbal, like a crushed laurel leaf you forgot on the kitchen counter. Keeps musing on your breath. Sippin’ it neat feels like pulling on yer favourite woolly jumper after a damp autumn walk. No fireworks, just good bones an’ a low, steady glow. Wouldn’t say no to another measure. Slàinte! 🥃
