Scotch

Samarioli "Coilltean" Linkwood 1983

$315.00

OVERALL
RATING

Whisky Review: Samarioli “Coilltean” Linkwood 1983

by Whisky Kirk
July 19, 2017

Tasting Notes:

About:

Samaroli Coilltean 30 Year Old Linkwood; 1983-December 2013; single malt Scotch whisky; Cask No. 5406; 45% ABV / 90 Proof; price varies from $315-$750.

Appearance:

Pale gold with slender legs. Well-defined beading. The way these beauties wrap around my glass dribbling down, down, down, slowly and sensuously I am reminded of Sophia Lorens golden gams at the height of her acting career.

Nose:

Theres no telling how this would come across at cask strength, but at 45% ABV, the heat is dialed down agreeably. A bewitching sense of warmth does rise up out of my glencairn, despite the fairly low ABV for a Samaroli bottling. Im greeted by a fruity bouquet that vacillates between pear and apple. Theres also pound cake, hazelnut, caramel, and a very faint savory note that reminds me of smoked pork ribs. With a few drops of water added to my glass, a kind of doughy maltiness comes through in the best of ways, a little bit like Ben & Jerrys Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream. Yes, I am wincing to equate the palate of lowbrow ice cream with the nose of high brow single malt Scotch . . . but the comparison is apt, nonetheless.

Palate:

of lowbrow ice cream with the nose of high brow single malt Scotch . . . but the comparison is apt, nonetheless. Palate: For once Im speechless. If complexity can be equated with chattiness, then this whisky has a big mouth, indeed. The raw doughiness of the nose has been magically transformed into a delicious pie crust, or perhaps a shortcake biscuit. Was Cask #5406 toasted, I wonder? Lemon zest, dark chocolate and dark roast coffee are swimming the backstroke in my glass together. Believe it or not, Im also catching a note of malted vanilla milkshake. To label the consistency of this Linkwood as creamy is something of an understatement. But the seemingly carefree palate also has a darker, more acrid side. Allspice goes a bit farther than simply managing a portfolio of sweet, malty, and scrumptious notes. Theres also cinnamon and white peppercorn. Obviously, some fairly strong esters were fused into this spirit during thirty long years spent contemplating just what it means to be an Oakie. Finish: Lemon zest rears its sunny head initially, followed by the same apple-and-pear notes that were present in the nose. Oh wow, thats curious. I didnt taste them on the front end of the palate, but now Im detecting both citrus and orchard fruits in the final death throes. Its a shame that they are overpowered by enough oak to break the spell of what would otherwise be a near-perfect mouth-feel. This is the way the dram ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

Finish:

Lemon zest rears its sunny head initially, followed by the same apple-and-pear notes that were present in the nose. Oh wow, thats curious. I didnt taste them on the front end of the palate, but now Im detecting both citrus and orchard fruits in the final death throes. Its a shame that they are overpowered by enough oak to break the spell of what would otherwise be a near-perfect mouth-feel. This is the way the dram ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

Comments:

Cask Number 5406 definitely puts the “wood” in Linkwood. Chew, chew, chew. Normally, I’m not a fan of such a pronounced wood presence in whisky or in red wine. Despite some initial reservations, however, this baby keeps growing on me, dram after dram. Just last week, I found myself craving a glass. Funny how one’s tastes can change.rnrnIt’s safe to assume that I will dearly miss that which I can no longer have, once the bottle runs dry. Even still, I very much doubt that my tastes will change enough to purposefully acquire “Oakies,” aside from what I perceive to be collectibles at bargain prices. Speaking of which, Samaroli’s 30 Year Old 1983 Linkwood can still be found in a few remaining stores online. I’m guessing that bottles can also be spotted at a dozen or so establishments scattered across the planet like the rocky husks of uncut diamonds.rnrnIt doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Samaroli IB’s are becoming pretty rare these days. If you can find this 30 Year Old Linkwood for under $300, then the bottle is probably worth buying as an investment. Why? Because it’s pretty much a foregone conclusion that the whisky is going to appreciate fairly steeply, or my name’s not “Whisky Kirk.”rnrnYes, it’s true that my open bottle of the Linkwood pales in comparison with some of the other Samarolis that I’ve tasted over the years. But that won’t really affect its value as an investment because there aren’t very many Samarolis left to collect. Scarcity creates demand, and demand raises prices. That’s the way of the world. People tend to want what they can’t have, and they’re often willing to pay more for the opportunity of owning what most others cannot.rnrnI’m glad that I opened my “fairly rare” Samaroli. Aren’t you? If I hadn’t, then I could not have written up this whisky review to share with you, Dear Reader . . . and I couldn’t not have offered a heartfelt dedication to the Late Great Silvano Samaroli.rnrnGrazie, Silvano. You will be sorely missed as a bright star in the whisky world, twinkling above the Seven Hills of Rome. Thank goodness that your resplendent bottlings will live on. Addio, amico mio.

Today’s whisky review is dedicated to the Late Great Silvano Samaroli, who passed away last February at the age of 77. If you are familiar with his legacy in creatively sourced independent whisky bottling, then you might be interested to hear that he founded his company nearly fifty years ago in Rome, Italy. In my estimation, this kind of staying power deserves R-E-S-P-E-C-T.

Samaroli is known for pioneering the bottling (and promoting the importance) of cask strength whisky. Back in the 1980’s, the vast majority of his whiskies were cask strength releases. Working to source casks from Cadenhead, Samaroli’s generous releases slowed down a little in the 2000’s right at a time when everyone else was starting to grasp the genius of his vision. Indeed, the man’s bottles today are among the most coveted by whisky collectors and enthusiasts the world over.

In this review, I will have the pleasure of pouring a glass from my bottle of Samaroli’s 1983 “Coilltean” Linkwood. Back when I first acquired my latest Samaroli, I cradled it in my arms like a newborn babe, even though the whisky inside was three decades old.

That was then, and this is now. Yes, it’s been open for a while, but the resulting oxygenation has only served to deepen and enrich some remarkable characteristics. Let’s pour ourselves a dram and see what happens.

Photo by Whisky Kirk, image copyright The Whiskey Wash

Tasting Notes

Vital Stats: Samaroli Coilltean 30 Year Old Linkwood; 1983-December 2013; single malt Scotch whisky; Cask No. 5406; 45% ABV / 90 Proof; price varies from $315-$750.

Appearance: Pale gold with slender legs. Well-defined beading. The way these beauties wrap around my glass – dribbling down, down, down, slowly and sensuously – I am reminded of Sophia Loren’s golden gams at the height of her acting career.

Nose: There’s no telling how this would come across at cask strength, but at 45% ABV, the heat is dialed down agreeably. A bewitching sense of warmth does rise up out of my glencairn, despite the fairly low ABV for a Samaroli bottling. I’m greeted by a fruity bouquet that vacillates between pear and apple. There’s also pound cake, hazelnut, caramel, and a very faint savory note that reminds me of smoked pork ribs.

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With a few drops of water added to my glass, a kind of “doughy” maltiness comes through in the best of ways, a little bit like Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream. Yes, I am wincing to equate the palate of lowbrow ice cream with the nose of high brow single malt Scotch . . . but the comparison is apt, nonetheless.

Palate: For once I’m speechless. If complexity can be equated with “chattiness,” then this whisky has a big mouth, indeed. The raw doughiness of the nose has been magically transformed into a delicious pie crust, or perhaps a shortcake biscuit. Was Cask #5406 toasted, I wonder? Lemon zest, dark chocolate and dark roast coffee are swimming the backstroke in my glass together. Believe it or not, I’m also catching a note of malted vanilla milkshake.

To label the consistency of this Linkwood as “creamy” is something of an understatement. But the seemingly carefree palate also has a darker, more acrid side. Allspice goes a bit farther than simply managing a portfolio of sweet, malty, and scrumptious notes. There’s also cinnamon and white peppercorn. Obviously, some fairly strong esters were fused into this spirit during thirty long years spent contemplating just what it means to be an Oakie.

Finish: Lemon zest rears its sunny head initially, followed by the same apple-and-pear notes that were present in the nose. Oh wow, that’s curious. I didn’t taste them on the front end of the palate, but now I’m detecting both citrus and orchard fruits in the final death throes. It’s a shame that they are overpowered by enough oak to break the spell of what would otherwise be a near-perfect mouth-feel. This is the way the dram ends, not with a bang but a whimper.

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