Blended Malt Scotch Whisky | 43.1% ABV

Score: 7/10

**Very Good Indeed.**
***TL;DR***
*An old oak bomb*

Whisky finds you. Dogs too.

You never know when whisky will find you. I find that generally, ok well always in my case, that whenever I’m not looking for whisky, I find the fun ones. The random. The unique. The rare.

And in this case, rare it is. A 1988 vintage, a birth year bottle and a particularly fantastic year if I do say so myself. And a great price to boot from a reputable bottler at a not-so-insignificant age statement.

So you see, I naturally blame this on my dogs. Yup, those furry little critters. In fact, as I’m writing this, I can hear my eldest pup snoring like an old trucker eight feet away from me. Damn Corgi’s and their cute faces, wiggly butts, and absolutely mage attitudes. She’s past the twelve year old marker and, while objectively young in whisky eyes, is getting into senior territory.

Her face is graying, she’s lost many front teeth so her smiles are toothless, eyes are starting to blue and cloud up, ears going slightly deaf (or she just doesn’t care anymore), and odd lumps and bumps are starting to show up everywhere. In fact, she’s currently wearing the cone of shame for a couple weeks while her leg heals up from having a growth removed on her leg. Not a whimper either. She’s split her orbital socket requiring seven stitches after losing a battle of mass with a 500lb boulder’s jutting limb when chasing a ball, and dislocated both front shoulders well over five times each after trying to use her front shoulders as a pivot point to chase balls, frisbees, and rabbits.

I’ve since become quite proficient at popping dog shoulders back into place. And the icing on the cake here: she’s blown a dog’s version of her ACL on her hind leg. And blew it five days after my youngest child was born. Completely blown. Severed. See ya later. Adios. Despite that, she kept walking. Going upstairs, asking for our twice daily walks, all without a whimper. A trip to emergency later, an overnight surgery, and an eye-watering Visa swipe later, I was stuck with a dog with a bummed leg. A dog that cannot go up and down stairs for a month. In a house with stairs. And a crying newborn (less than a month old, like real fresh!) and a wife with a second C-section. Oh, and the kicker? The pain meds they sent her home with caused incontinence. So ya, I slept on the couch, next to the dog, on a section of the house that was babygated off because it had easy clean floors. With my alarm set every couple hours to let the dog out in a bout of -30ºC weather, in my underwear and a sweater outside because it was 3am and I didn’t want to put on clothes. Yes, I have a stubborn streak.

Plus I’m Canadian. It’s not that bad. Looking back on it a few years later, I'm flabbergasted that I was still functional enough to work at my new job, which I had joined six months prior, during the day. Oh, and going back through my photo roll, I see videos of this damn dog wanting to play ball and tug-of-war with me five days post surgery. Ya, she’s nuts.

All the while, the other “pup” is hanging about. In one of our bouts of murky wisdom, we had decided that getting another younger dog would be smart. Smart as in the older one would help train the younger one while the older one still had some vim and vigour. Not smart as in this dog came into our lives a few years after our first-born, and coincidentally, before we found out our second was on the way. Not smart as in the second dog couldn’t give a rats sphincter about training.

We adopted her as an approximately four month old pup of unknown background, other than she had bounced around from foster home to foster home, rumored to have originated from a ‘reserve from Saskatchewan’ (IYKYK).

After a meet and greet with her, and agreement that our short-legged stumpy arsehole of a Corgi would not try to rip out her jugular in her sleep and we were of sound mind and situation, she came home with us. We’ve since discovered that she is highly likely a Siberian Husky/Border Collie mix, meaning she sheds hair like a mofo and has some interesting mental tendencies. In the grand scheme of things, this pure ‘white’ furball is a massive pushover. In the summer, she is pure white but against the white of a Canadian winter, there’s some light yellow/cream mixed in there. Anyways…

Kids delivering the People’s Elbow to her midriff from the couch? Not even a flinch. Kids be a dick to her? Sure, do whatever you want. Actually, let me roll over. Please scratch my belly. My pure white eyelashes are begging you to give me a scritch. Keep in mind she is 55lbs of effing fast muscle and gleaming Husky teeth. My good friends from ‘back home’ call her the “white coyote” for she resembles that lithe structure and grace, albeit an extra tenner or more on the mass scale. She is our housecat.

While the Corgi, who is finely attuned to yours truly’s emotions, could give a crap in her old age, our rescue is finely attuned and visibly broadcasts how ole Broddy is feeling. Did I mention she is freakishly fast? Give her some space to open up the throttles and truly stretch out, and it’s inspiring. Plus she has a killer instinct, more than happy to hunt mice in the backyard or out on walks, and she’s damn good at it. Which brings me to her Achilles heel. She has a terribly sensitive stomach. And rivals my youngest in terms of dietary selectiveness. I can’t count the number of times I’ve cleaned up… you know what.

Review

North Star Sirius, Blended Malt Scotch Whisky, 2019 release, Limited Edition No. 1, Distilled 1988, Bottled 2019, First Fill Bourbon Barrel matured, 43.1% ABV
CAD$180 paid (£95) mostly secondary availability

So what do dogs have to do with this delectable North Star?

Well, we had run out of dog food. On a Saturday. Yup, silly me for not planning ahead but you know what, I get kinda busy sometimes and excrement happens. So after slipping out to grab dog food, of which it has to be a certain type because the dang Husky mix is the pickiest eater on the planet, outdoing my four year old by light years in that department, it had to come from specific stores. Which, specifically, means my options are limited on Saturday’s. Which coincidentally was next to a liquor store that I generally avoid because their selection sucks, their inventory has very little turnover, and their prices are mesospherically high. But, when you’ve got a spare few minutes, and you’re conveniently near a liquor store, you wander in.

Heading straight for the whisky section, I perused the tall shelves and terribly priced selections. I’ve got a dang good memory and I know a certain fourteen foot tall section of those whisky shelves hasn’t had a single product move in over five years. Prices haven’t budged either. Poor service and terrible management, really.

Upon leaving, foldable tables were laid out along the exit lane. A blowout section was neatly arranged to tease you on the way out. Rows and rows of wine were displayed with handwritten marker labels taped in front. And at the end of the table, a measly spirits section. A few tequilas, a bourbon or two. And this sucker.

Recognising the bottle shape and label style as North Star, I immediately piqued up. So you see, the saying “whisky finds you” has meaning. Or substance and real statistical meaning in the real world.

Nose

What a juxtaposition on the nose, somehow still bright and fresh but also showing those deeper and oxidized notes that you’d expect after over three decades. Jujube candies. Orange furniture oil. Candle wax. Sawn oak. There’s an oxidized tropical fruit aspect, fairly muddied however that I can’t identify distinct notes.

Being in ex-bourbon American oak, you’d expect the vanilla-related notes but in this case, it’s distinctly the crispy top of a freshly burnt creme brulee dessert. Baked apples dusted with cinnamon. There’s a malty backbone riding under all of this, and combined with the distinct orange aspect leads my mind's eye to think this would be exactly how a 30yo ex-bourbon Arran would taste like!

This is highly effusive stuff, I can smell this two feet away with enticing aromas wafting out.

Palate

Despite the low percentage alcohol strength, it’s quite a strong and dense entry with a quite syrupy and oily mouthfeel. Orange oil. Furniture varnish. Bag of jujubes. Almond extract. Milk chocolate. Mega loads of toasted oak. Clove. Black tea, cardamom, and moist tobacco undertones. Creme brulee brittle top. Some black pepper seems to appear depending on your day. The finish is a long and gently declining affair of jujubes, orange oil, and toasted oak..

The Dregs

What a pleasant treat this whisky, and that lucky day, have been. It’s not super tropical, silky vanilla, or luscious wood spiced fruits like one might be expecting given the lack of fettering about with sherry or a finish, but it’s a dang solid whisky. I’ve shared it a few times and it can sometimes come off a bit spicy or hot depending on the palate but a drop, and I do mean a drop, or two of water can really alter the experience.

And I think this whisky is just like my pair of pups… the relationship needed some time to develop. When young, things are feisty, always in constant states of flux. But time tends to mellow things, ease tensions, and harmonize relationships. This whisky likely needed some time to chill out as I could see twinges or shadows of its former self poking through with the pepperiness but by almost all stretches of imagination, this is well and truly into its senior years. It’s got that old school vibe, long finish, great plethora of oxidized notes, and it's just a treat to pour.

And my dogs are the same. Their relationship started rocky, some loving moments and combative moments, sometimes within the same day. But they’ve developed and matured into a great pair and are an integral part of our family, joining our family in all our highs and lows. The corgi has been there from before we were married, through the birth of our first child, and now trotting alongside my youngest daughter on our walks as my daughter's slower speed is more her style compared to my always-running oldest. She’s only got a couple years left, if that, but her impact on us has been lasting. I think she knows days are numbered too because she has been cuddling up more recently and perking up. A last hurrah if you will. She just nudged my office door open and laid down beside me while I type this. I’m not crying, you’re crying.

But the youngest pup has stepped right up and become an integral part of the family and my kids’ lives, at a time that they will remember the most too. Looks like me and my wife’s plan of having the oldest train the youngest and have a transition will work out. Stop it eyeballs, it’s hard to type.

Score: 7/10

PS: oh, and it’s a birth year bottle to boot! Can’t believe I forgot to mention that tidbit. And I bought two that day, hedging my bets that it might be good. Bazinga!

PPS: dogs rule, cats drool. Seriously. It’s not even a debate.

PPPS: When launched, this was rumoured to be a tea-spooned Clynelish.

Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. BB

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