This has won more awards than I can shake a stick at. The website advertises Jim Murray as saying this needs "chewing," which is a fantastically accurate word for this. It's a thick, layered whisky with a lot going on, even at nuclear cask strength (which often wipes out any subtlety from a young whisky).
I understand from liquor store gossip that there was some drama at Balcones, and the founding distiller Chip Tate was forced out by the investors he brought in to help expand the business. He's now Tate & Co., and I look forward to everything he makes.
Nose: Surprisingly delicate bouquet of butterscotch candy, a whiff of balsalmic vinegar, burnt sugar/creme brulee, very strong vanilla. After letting the glass sit for a while, I got ripe banana and a little more vinegar. My tasting partner called this "a Yankee candle in a glass."
Mouthfeel: Medium body.
Palate: Many layers of sugar - I would go so far as to describe this as the savory aspect of sugar. It's not entirely sweet, like Kahlua or Baileys or something, but it has a lot of sugar aspects, many of which carry from the nose: creme brulee and flan and maybe toffee. Sweet butter. Honey in spades. Very strong, but also quite soft and nuanced. I thought I detected almonds in there. Balcones says on their website to expect "baked pears and apples," which might explain the almonds, but I think the closest I really got to this was the faintest hint of pears poached in cinnamon.
Finish: Oak and vanilla, one peppercorn or two mixed in for effect.
Verdict: This is halfway between a Scotch and a bourbon, really. It's sweet like a bourbon, but no corn and no rye. The sweetness is very complicated and enriched by the oak barrels. I liked this more than I expected to - especially since I tend to be an Islay hound when I'm not reviewing for this blog. The sweetness never gets cloying, always stays rich and interesting, and is really cut by the cask strength kick, which was a very smart move by Balcones. Recommended.
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