Two Times the Fun | 46.3% ABV

Misery Loves Company

There’s many things roiling around in this prune-like head. Did I take the correct bin out? How do I install a fence to stop the Hairy Bullet making a run for it down the road when I take the wrong bin out? Did I check the Hairy Bullet for ticks? Do I have ticks? Why are there ticks, anyway?

I find myself of late in a constant state of suppressed anxiety, fueled by the news and perpetuated daily by the (non-chill) filtered reporting of a certain Stateside leader’s lunacy, even for remote people here on the Misty Isle. My eyeball twitches randomly. I had to fill my 1,200 litre tank with heating oil, which comes around every June when the price of oil is low, yet this year the price of oil is double that of mid-winter. The eyeball twitched.

Something else liquidy has been working its aquatic fingers into my bad mood receptors. In our brand new bothy’s bathroom, water of unknown provenance has been seeping up through the joints in the laminate flooring. Wet socks sounded the alarm. Initially the culprit was thought to be the shower, so I sealed that sucker to within an inch of its life. At this point you could detonate a 5 kiloton charge inside, and nothing is getting out. Still the water rose. The eyeball twitched

Defcon 1 was reached last weekend when, with a horror commensurate with that of finding you’ve zipped your favoured testicle on the wrong side of your jeans, the leak was found to have crept through to the bedroom. I unsheathed my Stanley (easy now) and started hacking a discovery hatch like a man possessed. The Rubicon had been reached, and I was damned well crossing it.

The tap. A stylish Norwegian tap hidden beautifully behind the wetwall such that you just see the outlet and the control knob and it’s oh so sleek and lovely, was leaking into the cavity between the stupidly thick insulation (thank you 2025 energy compliance) and the plasterboard. No way to get to it without dismantling the entire bathroom. The eyeball twitched.

The dismantling commenced. The toilet pan and its legacy stink was removed, the sink and cabinet unstuck from the wall, and the floor was ripped up and thrown unceremoniously out the window. The depth of water was revealed to be measurable with a ruler, and despite dispatching three lots of double kitchen roll, the walls were saturated. All of this would have been semi-manageable had a guest not been due to arrive in the next 4 hours. Needless to say a dram or three was required to quell the imminent Michael Douglas.

Mystery, the mere idea of it, is something securely outside my purview right now - the unknown element of life can go do one. Get in the sea.

I need sure things: any sort of sure thing will do. The sun will rise tomorrow. Except here, where it’s pelting with rain and I have to put lights and heating on in early summer; the sun doesn’t rise.

There are light moments. The Hairy Bullet started singing the other day. That was funny. My ten year old daughter is increasingly catastrophically embarrassed by my presence. Just this morning she demanded I pretend to be a random stranger departing for work, after I dropped her at the bus stop, so that her pals on the bus wouldn’t notice she has a dad. I decided to sing out the window as she embarked. I’m amused and disconsolate, in equal measure.

Skye Week kicked off with the gala day at the weekend, a low-key affair this year with a restricted setup - budgets must have been slashed. We spent the morning buying raffle tickets to try and win booze, coming away with a haul of epic magnitude against a spend of £11. Four bottles of various wine, four litres of shower gel, two bottles of flavoured water, a set of old lady moisturisers, a jar of pasta sauce and, the big prize, a crate of craft beer. The beer was won with a £1 bet. Unparalleled bang for buck.

Life has its ups and downs. When it’s good, it’s good. When it’s bad, it’s bad.

Balance is the key. When these two bottles showed up at Chez Crystal via the Dramface Diversion System, not only was I elated, but a vital thread pulled me back into the place I love, and have been missing.

Whisky is life.

Review 1/2

Reveal at the End, Mystery Malt Series 6, Thompson Brothers, 46.3% ABV
£65 online and in-store

Despite buying and loving Thompson Bros bottlings for a while, I've never bought a Mystery Malt. Much the same as I pause when considering a 50cl bottle size even if the maths works out versus a 70cl bottle, something about the possibility of unveiling a whisky I'd never intentionally buy has stopped me from the fun of the Mystery Malt game.

Yes, the chance of bagging a legitimately insane whisky for £65 was real. A 28yo Inchmurrin or a 21yo Bruichladdich, yet the 0.58% chance of the latter made me pause alongside the 6.77% chance of a Wolfburn. In truth, I'd have a higher chance of bagging an 11yo Clynelish, but the risk, in my distorted eyes, was too great to take, especially with such a small purse of late.

Series 4 of the Mystery Malt went exclusive to the United States of America, and Series 5 arrived at Christmas, when I didn't have the wherewithal to get into it. So this new Batch 6 was very much of interest, as I found myself with some pennies to rub together. Especially so looking at the lineup, released in advance of the launch; their arrival at my door was particularly surprising and prescient.

What a line-up it is too. Massive outturn of 9,960 bottles spread across a myriad of casks, from a 20yo Glen Garioch, 25yo Ardmore, 29yo Ben Nevis and a 9yo peated Ardnamurchan all have me slavering, to a quartet of 6yo younguns from Dornoch, Lochlea, Lagg and Lindores.

Despite the crushing odds for the Ben Nevis (0.15% with just 15 bottles in existence), I still feel I’m in with a chance. The majority of this batch are well over 10yo and plentiful in their outturns, so really anything would be good. Except Nc’Nean.

£65 and all presented at 46.3%, it’s a level playing field of blindness. The bottle is utterly opaque - nothing gets through even in direct sunlight. I’m historically crap at blind tests, as are I reckon most people are, unless they’re a savant (Tyree) or have very recent exposure to the very spirit they unveil. I’d like to think I’d spot an Ardnamurchan at ten paces, but really, as we’ve seen before, I’m pretty shocking at that too.

For this experience I’m going to eschew the typical setup, notes and conclusion, instead preferring a blow-by-blow account as I go. There will be summary notes, but let’s get into it, the Mystery Malt experience as presented by Thompson Brothers of Dornoch.

To keep things easy, I’ve tip-ex’d onto the glass numbers one and two, so that I can identify what’s what. I’ve never taken more care over unpeeling a tin zipper, and even as I carefully remove the last clinging thread, the cap threatens to lift, prematurely revealing what’s inside this bottle. I decide that my sausage hands are just too clumsy to prevent it, so reach for the electrical tape and secure the cap onto the stopper. With that safety net in place, I pour Bottle 1 into the glass.

It’s mighty light - I immediately think “young”, which influences my thought train going forward - it smells young, spirity, fresh, a bit smoky - earthy peat maybe. It’s juicy, tropical in nature maybe, with loads of yellow fruits - mango, pineapple, melon - bursting from the glass. It’s sweet too - boiled sweets.

I pour the Bottle 2 - it’s darker by a good way, and I’m just glad it’ll be at least a contrasting experience. It smells deliciously sweet-fruity, like a load of strawberries with toffee sauce tipped over the top. Certainly not a bourbon cask - lots of sweet woody smells in there too. It feels softer than Bottle 1, even if it’s bolder, if that makes sense? Bottle 1 already feels more aggressive.

Bottle 1 feels more coastal - salty, shelly, rocky. It has a lot going on for the olfactory to work out. A bit of chemical romance, with swimming pool store cupboards and new car smells. Dusty. Opal Fruits but if they were in that chalky form like Love Hearts. Definitely presents like it’s peated, even if lightly.

In the face Bottle 1 is a strange experience, with an immediate burst of bright, syrupy sweetness but it quickly turns sour - like that rank cough syrup you had as a child before they made it sweet. It’s not overpowering, but does switch the experience rapidly. It has big sugary things, icing sugar predominantly. Earthy. This is definitely peated in some form, it has to be. It’s very soil-y, damp tarmac, rocky. It has to be coastal. I’m recognising notes here of things from other coastal maturations.

Bottle 2 has a lot more going on that’s kinder to the nose. Wee bit malty, sherry by colour, sweet by nature. Dustry, maybe cedar dust, or at the very least, sawdust. Baking spice for sure, then a huge burst of sticky fruits, stewed fruit with that toffee sauce drizzled over the top again. Peppery oak. Tropical fruits now, but still that overt sweetness. It’s becoming a bit synthetically sweet actually, like a slab of Mum’s gingerbread toasted to the point of burning (ask me how I know). So sweet.

In the face, Bottle 2 brings all that sweetness into the palate. It’s all tropical mango and pineapple but laced with a big dose of Candella - synthetic sweetness. Sweet and spicy red bell pepper. Reminds me of something I can’t quite place yet. Gingery waves - ginger the root, not the sweet treat. Synthetic though. It feels like it could be young with that tropical base note, but holy cow it’s a bit sweety bamstick. It might be the Glenburgie from Cadenhead’s. That was all toffee and sweetness, laced with tropical knick-knacks.

I decided to try again the following evening, but remains a clear unknown on both accounts. I have no clue other than they both feel young, maybe coastal and, in the case of Bottle 1 quite sour, and Bottle 2 very sweet.

I have a glance at the release sheet to see if anything fits the mould. Bottle 1 might very well be Raasay, but it doesn’t have that peppery spice character - rye casks are usually deployed and TB have released a straight bourbon cask. You know what it could be? Harris. They have lightly peated distillate, and even though it’s not shown as peated on the TB list, it might be a wee sneaker. Sour though? Weird. I remember The Hearach to be a big bright fresh sweetie, no souring.

Bottle 2 could be anything from Arran (doubtful, not really getting their peppery spiced apples) or maybe even that Ruby Port Tormore: it has that big sweetness, the redness…maybe. I don’t have enough experience with Tormore to know (read: zero).

Score: 6/10

**Good Stuff.**
***TL;DR***
*It’s young, lightly peated and souring. Not the worst experience but far from the best*

Nose

Young? Very fruity. Feels Speyside. Maybe some peat. Slightly medicinal - light though. Shell-y. Opal Fruits but in hard chalk candy form. Swimming pool store cupboard… New car smell. Dusty. Brightly tropical. Lightly peated for sure. Corriander with a big sniff of petrichor. Clean air smell!?

Palate

Wee bit sour - peaty, medicinal, earthy. Salty. Sweetening, sugary crystals. Souring. Souring more. Cough syrup - the bad stuff. Earthy smoke - damp tarmac. Rocky. Sour wood.Tingling.

The Dregs

Interesting whisky that feels young, fresh and peated.

Score: 6/10

Review 2/2

Reveal at the End, Mystery Malt Series 6, Thompson Brothers, 46.3% ABV
£65 online and in-store

Score: 6/10

**Good Stuff.**
***TL;DR***
*A lot more red and thus aligned to my favourite style of whisky, but overtly synthetically sweet. Not sure*

Nose

Wow! Fruity too but softer, a wee bit malty, red fruits. Dusty. Maybe saw dusty. Wee bit of baking spices. Huge burst of sticky, stewed fruit with a toffee drizzle. Peppery oak. Tropical and toasted - coconut maybe? Browned gingerbread (in the toaster). Fresh cream atop strawberries. So sweet thought, and feels synthetically sweet. Cedar wood. Big stewed pear. Really pleasant nose. Crusty pear pie, burnt edges. Bay leaf. Oven chips.

Palate

Very tropical on the palate. Mango, pineapple; sweet and juicy. Spicy. Reminds me of something. Glenburgie? Dense sweet bastard. Peppery cedar. Pears, stewed. Apples, stewed. Cinnamon stick/ginger spice. Bit of heat there too. Hints of Arran 10.

The Dregs

Interesting again - more up my street with the red slant, but something synthetic about it stops me from really getting deep into it.

Score: 6/10

The reveal: Bottle 1 is 8yo Harris, Bottle 2 is 7yo Nc’Nean.

In the reveal it’s still surprising. I never thought Harris was as peated or as souring, but there we go. Nc’Nean is surprising too. I’ve gravitated away from the very few experiences I’ve had of Nc’Nean, because of price and lack of engagement - I’ve tried their core range a few times and felt it generically good. Who kens? No’ me.

These are two distilleries I’d rarely buy if given the choice - my one bottle of Hearach was Good Stuff, but nothing strong enough to draw me back to their world of whisky. I’m really keen to try more Nc’Nean though, even if it’s still a bit synthetically sweet. I wonder if there’s any sherry bangers in their lineup, but fear the price will far outstrip the desire to find out.

Pretty fun thing, this Mystery Malt, and seeing the myriad bottles being popped all around the dram-o-sphere shows that their motive for doing it, to give people a well-needed injection of fun and discovery, is working wonderfully.

Thank you kindly to the Thompson Brothers for sending these two bottles to Dramface Towers, it was a really interesting experience.

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

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