Hey! Are you in the market for a shit blended scotch that’s trying to act like it’s not a plastic bottle bitch? Are you ready for the Evan Williams to the Jack Daniels of the Johnnie Walker Blended scotch world? Then look no further friends because once you were lost, now you are found. Although on second thought maybe looking further is a much better idea.
We close out the Old St. Andrews line going from a whiskey as warm as a fire, to one named for the fireside. This is the older 12-year version, but the aftertaste might surprise you.
Editor’s Note: We apologize for the clickbait opening, the writer has been fired.
Continuing our coverage of Old St. Andrews (we promise there’s something in the works so we can keep reviewing as many whiskies as we do, while not supplanting everything else) we move from the 10 Year to the Clubhouse. Another blend, but without a year, meaning there are some young bucks in this one.
We’re kicking off a 3-week special with my name on it (technically). Yes, it’s a collection from Old St. Andrews, which came in this adorable package of mini casks (fake obviously). We start the 3 weeks off with the 10-year offering – codenamed Twilight. Which actually this would the 10th year anniversary of the film this November – not that we think the scots knew that.
We’re continuing our whiskey coverage, and once again like Macallan, we come to a scotch, but a scotch that’s just not good. This was bought because it’s called Monkey Shoulder, and if you are looking for the takeaway it might be to not think a spirit named for a creature that has not and never will exist in that country is a mark of quality. tl;dr (Monkeys =/= Scottish)
Grand Macnish has still been one of the favourites of the Buffalo Lounge, the reason being like all of our well spirits – it’s cheap, but not shite. We’ve formally reviewed the 12 year and informally have had the 150-anniversary version, and suffice to say – this is the worst of the lot.
We have a theory. To preface there is an exception in the Johnnie Walker name, but otherwise it hold’s true. If a scotch is named after a person and not a place, it’s a worse scotch. We see this with things like Grant’s, Justerini & Brook’s, and now Bell’s. We attribute this to what we call ‘the just because an old man got people to buy something doesn’t make it good.’ The world is full of con men, and sometimes they make spirits.
Continuing our foray on the British Isles we have a low-tier blended scotch. Because London is expensive dammit, and if we risk purchasing a good scotch we’ll make sure it’s good first. (by checking our handy-dandy website). While this might not win any height competitions with it’s shelf position, it’s actually quite nice.
There is a certain kind of irony of saying “rare” on your bottle, despite being one of the most well-known and prolifically sold whiskies in existence. It’s kind of the beanie baby situation, except it might be preferable to take a beanie babies innards and distill that into a spirit. If that’s not a large enough spoiler before the the fold – here goes.
First off we typically have 750mL to the point where writing it is habit, and occasionally we get a 1L thrown in. This week (and truly the next few months) will come from Britain so expect some off the wall numbering and selections as we explore spirits that aren’t casual fare in the states. (Gotta support those worldwide readers of this global site)
