Delivering what can only be described as a particularly punchy and penetrating sneaky peak of what’s to come, once you’ve finally managed to pour some of this rather jubilant and joyous Jura into a glass.
In many respects with regards to its style, Jura provides a mediating bridge between the worlds of Highland and Islay whiskies, though this particular bottling is most definitely more of an Islay dominated drop of drammage.
The nose initially offers up a moorishly sweet peaty punch, with bold wafts from an autumn coastal bonfire, accompanied by the aromas from a warm toffee tablet and an infusion of meaty oak and a handful of orange Revels.
Minus the suet and pastry, all the ingredients for a dozen mince pies make for the next set of sensations. Juicy sherry soaked raisins and sultanas followed by slivers of chopped citrus peels and a couple of pinches of ground cinnamon and grated nutmeg.
A subtle infusion of damp grass, washed up oil slicked seaweed and star anise then tip toe in and around all the other nasal delights, providing a harmonious bout of balance and an added dimension of depth.
Although the palate may not pack as much peat as the nose suggests, it still delivers a whole wealth of wonderlicious smokey sweet tasting sensations.
That coastal bonfire makes a reappearance, but this time around is accompanied by some bubbling hot tar which has just been used to resurface a nearby road. There’s also an essence of chlorine from a local swimming bath, which strangely if not worryingly works quite well.
The tide on this defined dramming delivery then begins to roll in with waves of orange and lime citrus wonderment, followed by more of those sherry soaked fruits and spices from those aforementioned mince pies.
An infusion of burnt caramel, pepper and candied fennel make for the final set of delights, before all of the palatable pleasures cordially hold hands and linger long into the night.
