Dalmore 12 Year Old

We’ve all experienced whiskies that evolve over time, but the Dalmore 12 year old gets my vote for the most radically changing single malt I’ve tried. There’s more development here than in the Beatles’ music, Muhammad Ali’s boxing style, women’s roles in society, or the continental drift. From a whisky I was once ready to write off as money wasted, it’s now one that I can appreciate as a decent, if not especially challenging, entry-level malt.

My impression of the first couple of drams from my bottle can be summed up on one word: wax. Often, a waxy element in whisky can be an oily, satisfying, mouth-coating experience. But my early acquaintance with Dalmore 12 was like drinking a melted candle. Many reviews don’t mention wax at all, so perhaps this was an example of the sui generis nature of my taste buds.

After a few months of languishing in the back of my whisky cabinet, I thought I’d give this stuff another chance, and I’m glad I did…sort of. I’d never rank the Dalmore 12 among my favorites, but it’s become something I can at least tolerate, even appreciate, if my palate is in an accommodating mood. It’s chill-filtered and caramel-colored to the extent that it’s more artificial than Michael Jackson’s face (and you know which Michael Jackson I mean), but I’ve resigned myself to such indignities when dealing with inexpensive, entry-level, 40% ABV malts.

Tasting notes based on a seven-month old bottle (black box, black label, not the newer red one), well below the halfway mark. (A good portion of the contents were wasted on a failed Solera experiment.)

Nose: Bland as your grandmother’s house dress, but with a few prize roses among the flower prints. Some fairly rich malt, citrus fruit, caramel, coffee with too much cream, and wet topsoil. It all blends together in a not-very-challenging mishmash, however, such that it’s more laid-back than a Perry Como ballad.

Palate: Arrival is a bit thin, but the development is not bad at all. Let it sit on the tongue for some nice sherry, caramel, spices, oranges, and chocolate. It’s thick and full-bodied at this stage, so give it a good chew.

The finish is little more than oak and wax. It’s of decent length, but the final aftertaste is cheap and concocted. A full minute after swallowing, I get something artificial that overwhelms my entire tongue, like Chinese food with way too much MSG. It’s tolerable, and that’s the highest praise I can afford it.

I don’t want to offend the esteemed and flamboyant Mr. Richard Paterson (a Connosr member, in case you didn’t know) by being overly critical of one of his whiskies. He might threaten to gouge my eyes out, after all. But I might politely suggest that he consider following the example of distilleries such as Deanston and Tobermory, whose reputations have been greatly enhanced by re-crafting their entry-level expressions by eliminating the e150 and chill filtering, and by upping the ABV to 46%. The Dalmore 12 in its current configuration doesn’t exactly encourage me to explore other entries in the Dalmore range.

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