Balvenie 12yo Doublewood
Official Bottling, US Export Strength | 43% ABV
For Karen
As he tried, rather un-gracefully, to extricate himself from the chair, we heard what sounded like every joint creak. As he rose, Chris grunted and muttered, “what’s with my damned knees?”
I replied, “because you’re an ugly old bugger.”
Jeff started to chuckle. Chris, straightened himself, rolled his eyes, and blurted “bite me, fellas.” He continued, “as if you both aren’t the same age – crazy ugly buggers, both of you!”
“Hey!” Jeff exclaimed loudly, enough so that Chris and I both stared at him. “...at least I’m not ugly.”
“Really?”, I blurted out while laughing, “you’ve a damned good face for radio!” Without missing a beat, Chris added, “didn’t you curdle milk by looking into the carton this morning?”
Jeff took a deep breath, and said, “let me be clear – when I pass I want to be buried face down, so you both can kiss my ass!”
Peals of laughter.
Chris, Jeff, and I attended college together in the late 1980s. I think it safe to say that if there were cell phones around when we were at the university, at least two of us (read here: Chris and I, in particular) would have been kicked off campus and the university brass would not have allowed us to graduate. Good Lord, there was a good amount of shenanigans that were undertaken that still bring a smile to my face and a chuckle from my gut. We had tremendous fun, and we bonded.
We have always kept in close touch despite our geographic challenges, and despite the decades coming and going. Last week, we made it a point to all get together as one of our trio had been touched by one of life’s harshest of life events. While we three banded together shortly after the tragedy struck, the constant support over the past six months via phone chats, Zoom, texts, and e-mails just didn’t cut it. A reunion was needed. So, it was decided that Jeff, from Massachusetts, and I, from North Carolina, would hop on different planes so that we all could meet up at Chris’ home outside of Fort Lauderdale. From there, we would drive to Key West, Florida for a long weekend together.
We flew down after work on a Thursday, and arrived after midnight. Before going to bed, we had a few nightcaps, hugs, tears, and laughs. We were up a few hours after laying our heads down, and made the three hour drive down to Key West.
Chris was my former college roommate. Fate intervened (or was asleep at the switch, depending on how you look at it) when I changed dorms after my sophomore year. Of all the double-residency dorm rooms with a vacancy, I landed across campus in Chris’ room. I have mentioned him in a previous review. He’s the one who taught me the art of “following the Bumble”. Shortly after college, he started our “ATF weekends” – and, yes, our weekends do encompass each of those items.
For those of you outside of the United States, one of our federal bureaucratic agencies is the ATF – the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms. We don’t get to do ATF weekends as often as we would like and, so we’re clear, we enjoy the alcohol and tobacco last because we are, if nothing else, responsible sots. But each and every time we get together, it is a whirlwind of fun. For sure, we finish the weekends a bit more tired, our sides aching from having laughed as much as we had, our livers a bit more overworked, and our hands smelling of cordite.
Chris is a master of fun, merriment, and depth. A man full of faith, full of a desire to live life to the brim, full of a desire to eat, drink, and be merry. A Friar Tuck with a tinge of blue language and a holster. He is awesome.
Jeff is another brother from another mother. He is Chris’ foil in many ways, though they are inseparable. Jeff is an atheist and rather reserved; a dyed-in-the-wool New Englander. Stern, mindful, and deliberate – as opposed to “the Bumble” and the chatty Ogilvie. While Jeff is particularly confounded in social settings with me as I start talking to strangers, he nonetheless laughs himself silly recalling some of these episodes. One, in particular, is a favourite that has been a tale re-told over the years.
My wife and I went up to the Boston area to visit with Jeff and his wife, and in the evening we all went out for dinner. The selected restaurant was packed and a wait list was being tallied by the hostess – a young lady who looked as if she was no more than twenty years old. I went up to her and greeted her warmly (perhaps a bit loudly) and asked how she was. Clearly, she was akin to Jeff, and didn’t take to social banter. She mumbled an answer and didn’t make eye contact. Undeterred, I asked for a table for four. The hostess pulled out a clipboard with names and as she pulled out a pen (still not looking up at me), she asked, “can I get some information for you?” Without hesitation, I replied, “Sure. I’m a Gemini . . . I’m also a universal blood donor, which I think is O positive . . .” Before I could continue, the stunned hostess looked up at me, not knowing what to do or say, stammered something under her breath, and literally ran away as if I had the Plague. Jeff, his wife, and Mrs. Shaw were bent over, laughing themselves into tears.
Jeff, nonetheless, grabbed me and admonished me (albeit while laughing): “Dude! This is New England! We don’t talk to strangers – you’ll get us arrested!”
We all noted the hostess would not make eye contact with me for the rest of the evening. She went out of her way to walk far afield from our table for as long as we were dining that evening. Jeff still laughs about this so heartily – years later – that he snorts.
So, that is the cast of our ensemble. The three amigos. Perhaps the three stooges. But, whatever we are – we are brothers.
Jeff turned in his chair toward Chris who was walking from the deck and into our Airbnb accommodation. “While you’re up, make yourself useful for once and grab the provisions we bought on our drive.”
Chris immediately responded, “you’ll get nothing and like it!”
“Spalding!!” was the almost Pavlovian response from both Jeff and me.
We started cackling like school kids on the playground. Sure, the three hours of bar-hopping down Key West’s Duval Street had us punchy and a bit fatigued. The evening was one of drinks and distractions, which served their purposes. We were together and there were many hugs, pats on the shoulders, and while there were conversations and banter, the 500lb. gorilla in the room was ever-present in our thoughts but had not been discussed.
As we sat out on the deck that warm and humid Florida evening, we all started to wind down from the past twenty-four hours’ rush of travel, reuniting, and several hours of bar hopping.
Chris emerged from the house with a cigar between his lips, and he tossed a cigar and matches to both Jeff and me. Chris went back into the house. Jeff and I talked about the evening on Duval Street as we cut and lit our cigars.
On the route from Fort Lauderdale to Key West we had stopped at a row of storefronts that had both a liquor store and a cigar shop, anticipating that there would be time to sit and chat. I was tasked with the chore of choosing a bottle and Chris had the chore of finding cigars.
The liquor store we found on the way was certainly not the most ideal, but as Florida isn’t an ABC state, there was some meaningful variety of labels and expressions. I needed a whisky that would be a crowd pleaser and would be appreciated by the palates of my two buddies; one a bourbon drinker and the other a fan of añejo.
Chris returned from the house with the canister of single malt I had selected from our drive. The canister was opened, and the bottle was retrieved and handed to me. I removed the foil, uncorked the bottle, and poured healthy drams for each of us. A dram was raised, and we all stood up. We raised our glasses, paused, and the words, “remembering her this evening” came from trembling lips.
A long silence. Some muted sobs of emotion percolated. Quiet sips from our glasses. Tears. Hugs. The 500lb. gorilla was no more – we started to talk about who had passed, remembered events, told stories, choked down more sobs as we recalled events. The bottle was passed among us. The dialogue flowed freely, not unlike opening a clogged drain. We spoke of life, death, and all in between. We chatted, gave each other solace, peace, sarcastic jabs, jokes, tears, and grace. As we sipped, poured, and puffed, we allowed the catharsis free reign.
I am glad to say that the bottle selected for the evening impressed both of my brothers. It was the engaging crowd pleaser I had thought it would be, and was rinsed over the course of a few hours.
She, who had passed, used to refer to the three of us as “kids” in a dismissive, humour-laden manner. We were always a bit juvenile and she relished pointing that out. We shared, we bonded, we were together. Even though one of “the kids” had had his heart bruised to blue, we always are there for each other. That night – and the weekend as a whole – was that needed catharsis.
With apologies to The Who, I am glad to say the kids are, indeed, all right.
Review
The Balvenie 12yo Doublewood, Official release, US export bottling, 750ml, 43% ABV
USD$80 (£60) wide availability
Frankly, I was surprised that with almost a thousand reviewed bottles under our belts, The Balvenie DoubleWood 12 year old had not previously been covered. This bottle has been a staple of consistency and pleasant sipping for three decades.
As I understand it, the DoubleWood 12 year old was launched in 1993. It employed a unique process of “wood finishing” that had not been previously accomplished. It was a process created by Balvenie’s former Malt Master David C. Stewart. The process involves a two cask maturation. As I found online: “The name ‘DoubleWood’ comes from the double finishing, more commonly referred to as ‘wood finishing’. The whisky starts in ex-bourbon barrels and hogsheads (a barrel of reused staves but with new oak ends), before being finished in ex-Oloroso sherry casks for an additional nine months.” Thereafter, the whiskey is married in large oak vessels, called “tuns”, for three or four months.
Balvenie presently has a core range consisting of 12, 14, 17, and 21 year age statements. The 12 and 17 are both DoubleWoods. The 14 is a Caribbean cask expression. Finally, as noted recently by Fletcher Finlay’s review, the 21-year-old Scotch is aged in Port Wood.
Having had this 12 year old DoubleWood expression previously, and after reviewing the selection I saw on the shelf in the store on the way down to Key West, I knew the DoubleWood would be perfect for us three stooges.
Nose
Dark clover honey. Stewed fruits with cinnamon. A slight waft of grape bubblegum. Plums. Quaker’s apple cinnamon oatmeal. Toffee and baking spices. Very inviting.
Palate
Vanilla cream. Dates. The stewed fruits – plums and apricots – are here. Jars of honey. Cashews and a slight hint of white pepper. Butterscotch and baking spices. Toffee. A hint of cappuccino and a slight hint of ripe cherries. The dram comes in at 43% (I understand the UK release is/has been 40%) and while I would love to have this as an all-natural presentation of at least 46%, the 43% stands up nicely. The finish is not long but neither is it brief. A creamy sensation pairs with the vanilla and spices on the finish.a.
The Dregs
This Balvenie is as I remember it; a very pleasant and tasty crowd pleaser. There are layers here that command a bit of attention. I have always heard that this Balvenie is a ‘gateway bottle’ to Scotch single malts for bourbon drinkers. There certainly is an overlap of flavour profiles – with the vanillas, baking spices, and toffee – and I can clearly understand and appreciate that this is a bridge between the two whiskies. My bourbon buddy, Chris, would testify to the accuracy of this statement.
This expression is like an old sweatshirt with a few worn patches here and there. Very comfortable, something that perhaps is easy to overlook, but when you have it on, you are glad you found it in your closet. The whisky is simply a classic and solid pour. It brought compliments from Chris, the bourbon lover as he loved the vanilla, baking spices, and the nuttiness he found in his glass. As for Jeff the añejo aficionado, he was impressed because he found the similar honey and vanillas that he loves in his bottles of añejo.
All that favourable talk aside, I did struggle with the score of a 6/10. This would be a staple in my whisky cabinet, but the price is simply too steep. As Doogie found with his GlenAllachie 8 year old, if this was a tenner less expensive, at least, it may be commensurate with the liquid in the bottle. To be clear, while this is a nice pour, this bottle was $80 USD.
There was never a thought from me to have it as a 7/10. At the end of the day, the struggle was between a 6 and a 5. If I factor the price, this is a 5/10 as the score would be knocked down a whole point. But, it is generally my habit to rate the expressions I review on the whisky alone. In my review commentaries, I leave it to the reader to get the whole picture – and I will point out issues with price. With that, the 6/10 I have given is on the liquid, alone. At risk of beating a dead horse, however, I have to reiterate the concern with price that should not be ignored.
Another knock that some make against this expression is that it is thin. I believe this to be a UK complaint. I say this as I have a buddy in the UK that told me he likes The Balvenie 12, but would like it a whole lot more if it wasn’t watery. His bottling is 40%. And, while my bottle is not far off – the US bottlings are 43% – it would appear that the extra three percent does make a difference. I think the DoubleWood I have had is neither watery nor thin. It is not ever confused with cask strength whiskies, but it is still a solid pour.
It is a solid dram, and I recommend it if and when you can find it on offer. If you see this bottle for $60 or $65, you will have no complaints. But, for $80, frankly, it is a hard sell. I bought it for our weekend in Key West as it was the right liquid for us three (among the available selections), and that was the priority.
While I won’t replace this without it being on sale, I am glad we had it, and it was thoroughly enjoyed.
Score: 6/10
For Karen
PS. As for the three amigos, the bruised heart is healing and we two others are always there to gab, listen, poke and prod, and resonate. I write this in memory of Karen. An amazing feisty firebrand who had the strength to put up with one of us brothers for more than thirty years with grace, humour, and wit. Godspeed.
Tried this? Share your thoughts in the comments below. OS
Other opinions on this:
Got a link to a reliable review? Tell us.