Glenmorangie Companta Private Edition; 46% ABV; 2014 release; single malt; 70cl; price varies dramatically.
Pinot noir in color, this wine offers big tears and quick beads that are commensurate with a fairly weak, young (ish) whisky.
Vine fruits come to the fore, with a blast of raspberry. Im also getting the unmistakable note of Pinot Noir grape. This shouldnt come as a surprise considering how 60% of the whisky was aged. Speaking of which, the sugary cask wood also delivers a bit of musty fustiness. Marzipan loiters in the background, along with three other players: rum raisin, medjool date, and rosewater. Im fond of everything but eau de toilette of rose. Why? Because it reminds me of old lady perfume. Taste: The mouth feel is not as oily (decadent) as I had expected . . . but its not exactly thin, either. Rum raisin from the nose has evolved into into Aurum liqueur (brandy with a citrus fruit infusion). Of course, whenever Im reminded of Aurum, then Parrozzo cake is never far behind. Buon appetito. Theres also dark chocolate, jasmine green tea, and a crust of peasant bread. Yes, that satisfying bread note is the toasted barley talking. Lastly, Im getting some candy on the mid-
The mouth feel is not as oily (decadent) as I had expected . . . but its not exactly thin, either. Rum raisin from the nose has evolved into into Aurum liqueur (brandy with a citrus fruit infusion). Of course, whenever Im reminded of Aurum, then Parrozzo cake is never far behind. Buon appetito . Theres also dark chocolate, jasmine green tea, and a crust of peasant bread. Yes, that satisfying bread note is the toasted barley talking. Lastly, Im getting some candy on the mid-palate. Vermont maple leaf candy, to be exact, with raspberry preserves on top. Finish: There isnt any obvious tannin presence, merely a trace of dried orange peel. Could that be the wood talking? Probably, but in a hushed tone. As death becomes her, Compantas finish brightens up the corners. Orange peel becomes Orangina: light, delicate, refreshing. But wait, theres more. Just when you think the whisky has rubbed itself out, a stale crumb of peasant bread remains. In other words, despite all of the fancy-schmancy cask wood that went into maturation, good ole-fashioned barley malt wins the day. Ha, ha! This early 2000s-era barley is noticeably better than what you tend to get today in whiskies of a comparable age. The rich, toasted maltiness reminds me a little of Springbanks local barley ten year-old. Preparation: Need I caution against adding more than a drop or two of water? As William Blake once wrote, Enough! or Too much. Then again, who am I to law down the law? Good taste becomes tasteless in the mouth of a tyrant. If you prefer your whisky more winey than a winos, then, by all means . . . drown that dram. Water perks up the grapes in Companta, pretty much to the exclusion of all else. Personally, Im good with a front-and-center cask finish dialed in at 46%. Well, actually . . . truth be told, I would have preferred a more generous 48%. Then again, 46% is certainly better than the miserly 43% offered these days in Glenmorangies core and prestige expressions.
There isnt any obvious tannin presence, merely a trace of dried orange peel. Could that be the wood talking? Probably, but in a hushed tone. As death becomes her, Compantas finish brightens up the corners. Orange peel becomes Orangina: light, delicate, refreshing. But wait, theres more. Just when you think the whisky has rubbed itself out, a stale crumb of peasant bread remains. In other words, despite all of the fancy-schmancy cask wood that went into maturation, good ole-fashioned barley malt wins the day. Ha, ha! This early 2000s-era barley is noticeably better than what you tend to get today in whiskies of a comparable age. The rich, toasted maltiness reminds me a little of Springbanks local barley ten year-old.
Carnivalesque wine finishes like Companta’s never used to please Europeans. These days they are all the rage. With a taste for all things sweet, Americans have always tended to enjoy wine finishes. The bigger, the better.rnrnCompanta “private edition” was released in early 2014, but I never had a chance to taste the broth until now. Good things come to those who wait . . . to open bottles in their collections. Glenmorangie delivered the goods with this one. Too bad it’s hard to find now, at least for a reasonable price.rnrnOne store in Washington DC would be happy to sell its remaining inventory for $250 a pop. That price seems high, even at auction. Most of us have better sense than to pull the trigger on such an eccentric purchase. We’ve got better things to do with our graven images of Ben Franklin. If a penny saved was a penny earned in 1735, then what of a hundred dollar bill today? Time is money, but saving money is timeless . . . until the next irresistible bottle of whisky comes along.rnrnSpeak of the devil: Glenmorangie Signet costs $150. In my opinion, it’s a more sophisticated dram than Companta, while offering many of the same malty, sweet notes. It’s also widely available. This said, Glenmorangie Signet is not a collector’s item . . . unless you happen to find a rare 2008 OB. Hey, don’t laugh. More than a few are still floating around.
