I am standing in my kitchen having just got round to opening todays mail - cheers to Michelle for letting me know I had some just after 11 o’clock at night - and I find a brown package. And inside is the strangest bubbliest air inflated packaging I have seen. Once I get this off I find three little bubble wrapped packages of delight from the guys over @ Master of Malt. At this stage I’m enraptured, salivating and carefully getting the contents out and inside I find a selection of whiskies. And within this little bundle of joy - which this early in the month is doubly pleasing, I find something I’ve been wanting to taste for a while - the 19 year old Tomatin.

Why have I been craving to taste the 19 year old Tomatin?

Fair question. But put simply if the polymath Stephen Fry feels it to be his favourite whisky (I don’t know what he likes about whisky but I trust him) describing it as “ Stunning from first nosing to final swallow”. I’m one of those who in some small way would love to be Stephen Fry and instead of being a polymath is merely otaku. Duly I feel I must taste this whisky, right now, without delay at the inglorious time of 11:45pm inspite of the ear bashing this is about to cause purely to see if Stephen Fry is right about everything, including whisky. I have to admit that I know little about Tomatin - having tasted it only once in my life about 6 years ago and the one I tasted left so little impression on me that I can’t remember a darned thing about it. And with this little tasting it’s at cask strength (57.6% ABV) so I should sleep soundly this evening and probably may have difficulty with my memory in the morning if i drink too much of it.

It’s a phenomenal golden colour - and I mean real gold not orangey and not that bronzey (sp?) colour of a sunrise but more a gentle, subtle gold that has me smiling (probably would show I liked butter if I held it up to my chin). And the smell falls right in the middle of my current tasting preferences. It reminded me of the Caribbean to start with and not rum but Tortoga cake. In particular the smell you get when you pierce the shrink wrapped cellophane wrapping around a pineapple tortoga cake. Fry talks of ‘peardrops‘ and he may be right but I don’t have much time for pear drops and preferred strawberry bonbons as a wean.

It’s slightly malty and oatmeally - like a mad scientists micro-brewery stout smelt from three streets away which leads you round two corners and up an side street (I’m actually thinking of Bridge of Allan brewery at this stage - which is strange as I’ve never smelt them brewing) before you can find the place. It packs multiple flavour layers into the mouth as it goes down - at the front of the tongue and then fattens out into the back of the mouth where the fun begins even more.

I’m actually smiling - which if you know me is as rare as hens teeth.

It’s not heavy in alcohol heat, and instead is charming, elegant and goes down too easily. At just under £70.00 it’s not the cheapest bottle I’ll buy this year but it’s in the top two I’ve tasted so far.

If you fancy tasting a whisky distilled in Scotland from the first distillery purchased by a Japanese company, judging by this it was a canny investment. If there are a couple of you having a dram together and you want a conversation started that will generate no ends of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ and probably merriment give it a go. I’ve not tasted it with water yet but it feels like it could probably take a tiniest pipette of water and may just open up a bit further. I don’t want to risk it and when a whisky as good as this crosses your path maybe it would be a bigger sin to add water.

And now off I toddle to my bed for the night - with a smile on my face.