Sam lived across the street in a Dijon mustard yellow stucco, three-storey walk-up, whose horseshoe arched windows were trimmed in provencal blue paint. He was about to turn in for the night when he happened to gaze through his bedroom dormer and see a dim light on in
Rick’s Café Américain. He had seen the bar keep, Sacha, snap the lights off when they closed earlier. With a big sigh, Sam thought a moment, and rather than retire for the evening, headed back downstairs and across the street to the
Café.
“Boss, what’s wrong?”
Rick, seated at a table next to the piano, grunted something unintelligible, and stabbed a finger at the iPad that lit up at his touch. “Why me? Sam? Why?,” Rick asked.
Sam glanced at the iPad. It displayed an email, but before he could read it, Rick continued. “I got my
Heritage Tree DNA results back and their not good . . . I’m a match with Ilsa.”
“A match?” Sam left school at 16 and played piano full time on a riverboat. Being a geneticist was not a possibility on the bayou, but Sam had a good idea what Rick was hinting at.
“Yeah, we’re related.”
Sam read the email that contained the DNA test results. “But, Boss it says you and her shared a common ancestor ten generations ago on your father’s side.”
“We are related. That’s the end of it. I been really bad. C’mon Sam, you know . . . that’s sick. But, I’ll show them sons a bitches!” Rick pointed at the bottles lining the back of the mirrored bar. “Gimme that one!” Realizing he was bellowing at Sam, he lowered his voice, and whispered “that one.”
Sam had no clue what bottle Rick wanted, but made a random grab anyway, and set a bottle of
Bowmore 18 years old single malt down on the table. Rick was busy tearing open a new DNA test kit, in the semi-darkness of the bar, all the while muttering “I’ll show 'em, I’ll show 'em,” as bubble wrap fell all around him. He poured the
Bowmore into his tumbler, with a Q-tip, he swabbed the inside of the glass, and then dropped it into the specimen container. Sam sent it out by courier the next day because he feared the use of the local courier service would soon be banned. This is not outside the realm of possibility thought Sam, given the fact that a Nazi Major Strasser had arrived in town to investigate the recent murder of two German couriers and the disappearance of their precious cargo:
Letters of Transit. But, that's a story for another day.
A month or so later, Rick got a new Y-DNA 37 test result back that said:
Rick Blaine Y-DNA Test (AKA:
Bowmore 18yrs Single Malt Scotch Whisky)
Price
Reasonable considering it is an 18 year old single malt Scotch.
Chill Filtration?
Yes.
Wood Management
A combination of ex-bourbon and Oloroso sherry casks.
Distribution
Widely available.
Region of Scotland
Islay.
Nose (undiluted)
Fragrant, sherry, light smoke, slight peat, seaweed. Orange peel, orange chocolate. Solid oak and malt notes.
Palate (undiluted)
Fruit forward, like a Napa Valley Cabernet, delivering cherries, black grapes, toffee, salted caramel, brown sugar, molasses, which is accented by a light treatment of peat and smoke.
Finish (undiluted)
Good length. Red wine Bordeaux, bacon, vanilla, raisins, cigar smoke.
General Impressions
The stereotypical Islay single malt Scotch is a peat and smoke blast, and then, well more peat and more smoke with maybe some black pepper for good measure. Bowmore 18’s DNA contributes to a departure from the aforementioned stereotype. This Islay malt is sweet, soft, the peat and smoke is delicate, restrained and even muted by the aging in Oloroso sherry casks. With a rather modest phenolic level of 35 ppm, it’s the sherry notes that dominate the peat and smoke of Islay. Not the other way around, as one would normally expect of an Islay malt.
Bowmore 12 and 18 are very different malts for this reason. The 12 is peated, briny and of the sea, so to speak. There can be no doubt of it’s regional origin, Islay. But, if someone told me in a blind tasting to guess the ancestry of Bowmore 18 I would have thought the Highlands.
Criticisms? Bowmore 18 takes no chances. It’s a gentle malt, balanced to the point of being a bit boring/flat if you are into powerhouses with higher ABV’s or seeking complexity. I really think had this whisky been non-chill filtered and no artificial color, we would be tasting more complexity. Most 18 year old single malts will wow you in taste and complexity. Bowmore 18 does not. Nevertheless, very drinkable and my bottle disappeared quickly as I sampled and pondered it’s lack of nuance.
So, if you are relatively new to whisky and want to try an inviting, balanced, easygoing single malt with an 18 years age statement, Bowmore 18 fits the bill. If you consider yourself a serious connoisseur of malts where emphasis is placed upon complexity, power and the glory of single malt, well, you be best to pass on this. And now, back to the story . . .
Sam looked over the new DNA test results and said, “Mr. Richard, I don’t see Isla’s name here. You’re good. Just some distant relatives Ardbeg, Lagavulin and Port Ellen, whoever she is.”
Rick nodded and said, “I’ll drink to that!”
