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Cake day: June 9th, 2023

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  • Distiller: Art of the Spirits

    Product: Easy Elegance

    Bottle: -

    Category: Rye

    Aged: 6 years American oak

    Nose: Holiday fruitcake with plums, cherries, and figs baked in honey and spices. Surprising from a straight rye.

    Body: Cinnamon, white peppercorn, pears, and figs over a base of spearmint fluoride mouthwash.

    Finish: Pine needles and more spearmint give a crisp clean finish. I still think of the dentist’s chair, but it’s not an unpleasant combination.

    Activation: Feels a bit buttery and creamier. Nothing too dramatic.

    Notes: The fifth and final entry of this series, Easy Elegance is also the only spirit that comes to us fresh from the oak with no particular finishing run. I’d forgive you for thinking that there was a port or sherry involved here however as there is a fruit character not commonly seen in rye whiskey. I’m also a sucker for mint flavors in my whiskey, so the strong spearmint tones are right down my alley. Taken together, this might be my favorite of the lot.


  • Distiller: Art of the Spirits

    Product: The Originals

    Bottle: 4 Square Rum Finish

    Category: Whiskey

    Aged: 6 years American oak finished in rum

    Nose: Anise, creamy butterscotch, allspice.

    Body: Licorice, but the fake sugary kind from a Twizzler’s candy. Cinnamon, brown sugar, cloves, and other spices.

    Finish: Apple cider, nutmeg, and with a bit of a harsh tobacco at the very end.

    Activation: A bit sweeter, some raw cane sugar with your spice blend. Not overly noticeable.

    Notes: Our next Art of the Spirits offering is the Originals, named in honor of the 10th Special Forces group from the OSS in WW2 and featuring an oil painting that wouldn’t be out of place on a Call of Duty game. It’s at the same time familiar (rum barrels often leave behind blends of cinnamon and spice) and quite unique - the licorice flavors are something I’m not used to. If you told me the rum was mixed with a hit of absinthe I would believe you. To be honest I don’t love it, certainly not at this price point.


  • Distiller: Art of the Spirits

    Product: Final Run

    Bottle: Tawny Port Finish

    Category: Whiskey

    Aged: 6 years American oak finished in tawny port

    Nose: Very mild. Roasted walnuts and fresh pine needles.

    Body: Drier and more oak-forward than the previous expressions. Lots of nutty flavors: walnuts, pecans, pistachios. The sweetness this time comes from sort of an eggy creme brulee with caramelized sugar topping.

    Finish: Finally some traditional port characteristics - cherries, cranberries, and spiced apple cider.

    Activation: Ah now here it gets interesting. A splash of water cools it down, tames some of the resins and brings out a ton of autumnal flavors: cranberries, pumpkin spice, nutmeg. The first of the Final Runs that I would recommend this on.

    Notes: Being a whiskey nerd and not a wine nerd, I was dubious that there would be much of a difference between a ruby port and a tawny port finish. At the end of the day it’s all the same grape right? Apparently the difference comes from the aging process, with tawny ports aging in smaller casks that extract more oak flavor and turn the wine brown (hence the name). When applied to a spirit the difference is dramatic. This is a much more savory whiskey, with all kinds of nuts and spices that can’t help but conjure images of Thanksgiving dinner, mulled wine, and spiced desserts on a cool night. If I had to choose I would probably give the edge to the ruby, but as with anything it’s a matter of preference and circumstance.


  • Distiller: Art of the Spirits

    Product: Final Run

    Bottle: Madeira Cask Finish

    Category: Whiskey

    Aged: 6 years American oak finished in madeira sherry

    Nose: That distinctive tangerine body, this time laden with a rich floral honey mixed with dulce de leche.

    Body: The rich caramel continues over a sweet cookie base. I’m reminded quite strongly of traditional alfajores. There’s something else as well, a barnyard hay or alfalfa quality with just enough of a sour grape note to remind you of the wine finishing.

    Finish: Faint honey drizzled pastries fade altogether too quickly.

    Activation: Becomes a bit more traditional, bringing out the green grape and apple flavors I would have initially expected. It’s not bad, but I prefer the uniqueness of the original.

    Notes: Near as I can tell, this is the exact same base spirit as the port finished Final Run, just finished in madeira sherry instead. Generally on such things I prefer the richer, deeper flavors from a port cask but don’t count this one out yet. The sweet dulce de leche is so evocative and so unique that I struggle to think of anything else while I taste this. From originality alone, this one wins a place of honor on my shelf. For those counting, that is 2 for 2 for the upstart little distillery from Colorado Springs.


  • Distiller: Art of the Spirits

    Product: Final Run

    Bottle: Ruby Port Finish

    Category: Whiskey

    Aged: 6 years American oak finished in ruby port

    Nose: Vanilla and tangerines with a hint of fresh spearmint.

    Body: A sweet corn base is layered with rich wine tannins. Ripe plums and virgin olive oil over a chewy leather foundation.

    Finish: Fresh oak, a dry Mexican style vanilla and a faint mint leaf conclusion leave you wanting more.

    Activation: Accentuates some of the fruit flavors: more plums, cherries, and even some dark grapes. Personally this makes things a bit too sweet for my taste and I prefer the neat expression.

    Notes: And so the Art of the Spirits rundown begins with a bang, Bonnie and Clyde style. The ruby port variant of the Final Run is rich, decadent, and expressive. At a shade over 107 proof, this whiskey is bold and unapologetic but not coarse or harsh. Sweet fruits lend a dessert-like quality while adroitly avoiding the syrupy or medicinal connotations all too common in wine-finished whiskey. The price point is aggressive, but remember that this is a limited edition cask strength bottling and therefore was never in the running to be the next daily sipper. All in all, a strong opening salvo from Art of the Spirits and I’m excited to try the rest of the range.



  • Defining a useful review is an interesting question that I can see from both sides - how do you determine which review is useful to you, and how do you write your reviews to be more useful for others?

    If you have a buddy you share drinks with, you find out pretty quickly whether you are on the same page and have similar tastes. Therefore, his review will have more (or less) value to you than most others, simply through time and experience. For a random guy on the internet, it is much harder to build that rapport. You could follow a specific blogger or a celebrity distiller (for instance, I’m fairly confident I will enjoy any project Jim Rutledge is involved with, his stuff is always right up my alley). More likely though this is where quantity of reviews matters more. If one guy says something, it’s hearsay. If ten guys say it, they might be on to something. (If the distiller says it, he’s probably trying to sell you something.) Finally, I know myself and certain words will pique my interest no matter where there come from. Mint, citrus, and pine nuts are all words that point towards a crisp, clean flavor I will likely enjoy regardless of whether I actually taste those things. Metallic words frequently indicate that there isn’t sufficient wood or resin flavors for my taste and the whiskey might need to go back to bed for a while. Words like bananas or syrupy are red flags that I will find this too sweet and not enjoy it.

    Making your reviews more relevant to others is a different animal. If I’m honest, I write my notes for myself and most don’t get shared with anyone. However, some things that I like in a review are when there are comparison points to help ground things - in your example, I am familiar with Port Charlotte. So when you say you feel it is aggressively peat-forward, that gives a lot of context to your comparison of how the Octomore’s peat is more in the background. I also look for honesty and specificity in the language. “Copper and band-aids” isn’t exactly a rousing endorsement of Lagavulin but it shows originality and that you put thought into this rather than just reading the press release. The only other thing I can think of right now is transparency in how you drink it - I tend to assume everything is neat, and occasionally get thrown for a loop until I realize the person in question was reviewing after adding several drops of water or pouring it over ice. My closing notes also tend to include bizarre impressions like if I feel like this would be better with dinner, or as a nightcap, or on a lazy Sunday afternoon. That sort of thing helps me capture the feeling of the whiskey instead of just the flavors. Other people probably just think I’m nuts though. If anyone reading this has better suggestions on objectivity I would to hear them!

    Regarding the flavor wheel, there are hundreds of variants and I don’t completely love any of them, which is probably evidence of the subjectivity of all this. In the example linked I can actually see how a pencil eraser could be a sort of synthetic spiced or savory note, but chardonnay being a spice confuses me. I would have put it either next to butter in oils or maybe over on the fresh/floral side. Oh well. I mostly find it useful to help isolate whether I really do mean sugar, or if honey or molasses or treacle or something else might not have been more appropriate.


  • Welcome, and thanks for a great review! The past few Octomores that I have tried have been big, heavy, peat-filled punches in the mouth - enjoyable in their own way, but a far cry from subtle. Interesting that the 13.2 does not follow this pattern; I’ll have to look around and see if I can find one.

    As someone who has spent untold hours writing hundreds of these reviews (a few of which are posted here) that probably no one agrees with, I have to say you’re thinking about tasting notes in the wrong way however. The short answer is there’s never a “correct” tasting - it’s less about writing an accurate product description and more like a film critic reviewing a movie. You describe your unique experience with the whiskey, explore what it make you think of and how it made you feel, and other readers are free to agree with some, all, or none of your conclusions.

    Now for the long answer:

    Let’s start with remembering what whiskey actually is. We take a variety of grains, cook them to break them down into sugars, and then feed that sugar to trillions of tiny organisms that eat sugar and crap out ethanol and some other stuff. We take that, boil off some bits that we don’t want, and slosh the good part around in some burnt wood for a while. Then we add a bit of water back in and pour it in a bottle. Maybe I think the result tastes like cinnamon cookies, but you think it tastes like dirty gym socks. The reality is neither of those things are actually in this bottle! Therefore neither of us is right; both opinions are equally valid (and equally ridiculous). Mine is just more likely to be printed on the label, which is after all a marketing tool first and foremost.

    So how did we come up with such wildly different tastes? Tons of reasons, up to and including genetics. Some people famously think that cilantro tastes like soap. Women are generally more sensitive to sulfides than men and therefore less likely to enjoy dry red wine. There’s uncountable other more subtle differences based on how diets evolved over millions of years.

    Perhaps more important is that we each bring our own experiences. Smell and taste are both closely linked to memory - perhaps what makes you remember your grandmother’s pecan pie makes me remember that night in college where I vomited up half a bottle of Southern Comfort. We would use very different adjectives to describe the same flavor! Similarly, your brain will make connections based on what it has seen before. Perhaps the first ever peated Islay you had, all you could taste was the smoke, but now you’re writing a complex review of a famously heavy dram. What we are currently experiencing is also important - something is going to taste very different in a smoky pub, or after a big meal, or while your seasonal allergies are acting up.

    So then, are all reviews just arbitrary bullshit? Well, that might depend on how you feel about art critics! I think they drive discussion, expand horizons, and help call out subtleties and complexities that each of us may have missed in our first pass. At the very least, they can be useful in the aggregate. You might disagree with any particular review, but if everyone else is mentioning vanilla and sugar cookies and citrus in their review, you can be reasonably certain that you won’t taste dark chocolate and coffee grounds. And if you do, that says something interesting about your particular palate that you may want to explore further. And there are a few ways that we can make our reviewing experience better and less arbitrary:

    First, I find a routine is important - it sounds like you may already have this part down. To limit as many confounding variables as I can, I always review by following the same steps in the same environment, in as close to the same headspace as I can be. For me that means in my office, never after eating, never while drunk but also not trusting the first sip or two as my taste buds awaken. Some folks swear by the Glencairns but I don’t personally find the type of glassware to be all that significant - if you do, that’s something else to add to the list. There are tons of resources online about the “correct” way to taste whiskey, but all that really matters is you take your time and are thoughtful about each element in turn.

    Secondly, it sounds like you may be struggling to isolate or verbalize what exactly it is that you’re tasting. When that happens to me, I find a flavor wheel to be a useful tool to help narrow things down. Again there are no wrong answers here but it can help you be more specific. And don’t be discouraged if you don’t come up with 20 unique flavors - some whiskey is just naturally less complex but that doesn’t mean it’s less tasty.

    Finally, experiment with side-by-side comparisons wherever possible! One of the best ways to notice new things about a whiskey is to directly compare it another of a similar profile. For instance, the Dalmore 12, 14, and 15 should in theory be quite similar, and you could probably identify any of them as being “a Dalmore”. But if you try one right after another look out - there’s no mistaking one for the others; they have wildly different profiles. Other brands take the same base whiskey and then just age it in different ways - this is a great way to isolate what flavors are coming from the malts vs the finishers.

    Apologies for the novel; hopefully something in here was useful to you. I hope you stick with the hobby and look forward to reading more of your notes in the future!







  • I don’t love this example because enjoyment of the object isn’t really a cost. If I buy a book or a videogame or a movie, the time it takes to enjoy the media is the value, not the cost.

    If you’re talking about maintenance and upkeep on your car, that is a different type of cost that has to be weighed against the cost and time expenditure of a bus pass or whatever your alternative was.

    In other words I feel like this is a catchy phrase that kind of falls apart once you start to dig at it.


  • I feel like there’s a lot more to this than “pay it twice”. If you’re talking purely in dollars, then you’ll want to consider maintenance and upkeep over the expected lifetime of the object and compare that to alternatives. Additionally, everything has an opportunity cost because no resource is limitless and you could have allocated it elsewhere. Finally, emotional and other intangible benefits are something that most people have a very difficult time quantifying.

    If you want to say “consider more than just the purchase price” then I’m with you.