Whisky Review: Highland Park Svein

Now comes Svein’s fiery temper. I’m getting a blast of peppery bitterness, although it doesn’t seem terribly oaky. No, the wood presence here is fairly understated. I think what I am tasting has more to do with some younger casks thrown into this very interesting batch of single malt Scotch. There’s a fairly understated malt presence, as well . . . just enough to gladden the palate. I would liken this to vanilla pudding, although Highland Park’s website uses the metaphor of creme brulee, which sounds a bit classier.

After the whisky’s initial mouth feel recedes, some bitter citrus notes comes through that weren’t in the nose. We’re talking about lemon pith, Granny smith apple peel, and grapefruit. A nibble of baker’s chocolate. And, lastly, some peat smoke. It’s nothing skull splitting, mind you. The “Goldie Locks Effect” most definitely applies to this dram. It’s pleasing for those who enjoy peat, without scaring off those who merely tolerate smoke in their tumblers.

In the finish, Thorin Oakenshield beats his chest. Metaphorically I’m alluding to wood tannin from American white oak. Perhaps there are some older casks in the batch? Who knows. Forest loam rises up, as well. Am I talking about geophagy (the compulsion to eat dirt)? Egad: trolls, crawl back into your holes. Rather, I’m referring to the way deep woods smell. Think camping, think hiking. In other words, “mountain air” on a misty, autumn day. One’s sense of taste and smell are linked, after all. At the death of Svein, a pleasing malt character resurfaces. Length of the finish is medium.