Notes

Big fan. Hits hard but with a fruity flair...like Mike Tyson. Also, here's a pic of the Ekklesia whiskey Advent crew.

'Twas the afternoon of the twenty-fourth tasting, as I prepare for the big day. I feel that there are a few things I simply must say. First, to our host JK, thank you for all that you've done. All of us have found a friend that truly is #1. To all of my fellow tasters, I want to thank you too. For I would not get to enjoy this each year without you. To the the whisky this year, you really were great. There were even a few scotches that I didn't totally hate. Now for today's whiskey, let me just say "Oh My". This tastes like a spectacularly delicious rye. Or perhaps I am wrong, I do fear. Anyway here's Sam signing off and wishing everyone a fantastic New Year.

Liking this. Want more on th finish and a bit more bite. Santa and Erin seem to like it though.

'Twas the night of the twentieth tasting, and all through the hall. Not much could be heard but the TV blasting football. I prepared my whiskey glass with care. Excited to see what Jonathan Clause had left there. The sip was enchanting, so floral, so bright, A dance on the palate, both soft and light. It hinted of Scotch, yet was gentle, refined, A balance of flavors uniquely designed. “This isn’t a Scotch,” I declared with a grin, “It’s lighter, more delicate, the clues are within! A whiskey from lands where the cherry trees bloom, This must be Japanese, I confidently assume!”

Sometimes you're in a Scotch mood so when you're surprised with a Scotch, it puts you in an even better mood.

'Twas the night of the nineteenth tasting, my glass was aglow, The whiskey was waiting, it was time to give this one a go My first sniff was curious—was that chocolate I found? A sweetness, a richness, that lingered around. The first taste smoky, a boldness to claim, Its sharpness and heat hinted scotch was its name. But something was off, I recoiled in despair, “This scotch is dreadful, no more will I dare!” With grim determination, my mind made a call, “A scotch,” I declared, “and not good at all!” The tasting was over, my verdict was clear, A reminder that whiskey has highs and lows, and this was a low one, my dear.

Digging this one. Could be the Christmas atmosphere in NYC, but this was surprisingly good. Not a standout in flavor, but definitely smooth and consistent given the proof.

Not loving this. Like drinking hot wax.

Like getting a sweater for Christmas, it's pleasant, but not exciting.

'Twas the night of the eighteenth tasting, and all through the room, I poured a glass of whiskey and hung up Zoom. The aromas so rich, allowed me to unwind, I believe my palate is becoming a bit more refined. I sniffed the first dram, my nose gave a sign, “Why does this one smell a bit like red wine?” More scotch, I exclaimed, my palate intrigued, The journey began, and my taste buds agreed "Delicious!” I declared as my glass emptied out, Do I like scotch now? It seemed there was no doubt. Is this year's selection better, or have I just grown? It's certainly been many years since I use to chug Keystone.

Pretty solid. Definitely getting pears on the nose, a bit weak on the finish. A decent supper though.

'Twas the night of the seventeenth tasting, and all through the house, Not a glass was left empty, not even for a mouse. The dram of fine bourbon lay snug in my hand, While I listen to a live album of one of my favorite bands. The leather aroma, it danced in the air, A hint of the warmth that this evening would share. It may be a tad hot, but I'm enjoying the taste, Not this year's best, but this tasting is certainly not a waste. So I raised up my glass, in the soft Christmas light, Merry sipping to all, and to all a good night!

If you don't want to trim your nose hairs, just give this a whiff. This thing is hot. The finish doesn't stand up to the nose and palate, but it's a good sipper nonetheless.

'Twas the night of the sixteenth tasting, with a whiskey in hand, Not much on the nose, I must say quite bland. A hint of the Scotch, but quickly fading away, Yet the finish is so smooth I simply must say. A whiskey so subtle, a mystery unfurls, Could it be Scotch? The smoothest in the world. On a cold winter’s night, by the firelight’s glow, I continue to ponder as I sip this glass, slow. With the firelight glowing and glasses held high, I toast to this journey, this 24 day whiskey flight. Each bottle, each day, a treasure to cast, In this holiday advent, I'm having a blast.

Diggin' it. It's easy, light, and a scotch that's not too scotchy.

'Twas the night of the fifteenth tasting, and as I look through the glass, Every swirl and each sip brought new flavors to pass. My first whiff was a symphony, welcoming in, For vanilla and wood is where the notes did begin. On the palate it danced, not quite as it seemed, For the taste wasn't quite where the aroma had me dream. Yet there was charm in the difference, a twist in the tale, A flavor adventure that begged to set sail. So I ponder, I sip, in the amber's embrace, Wondering, "Is this our first other?" in this whiskey chase.

Got that sweet heat. Big flavor on this one. Huge fan.

I really like this one. The finish is unlike anything I've had. It almost tastes like a Christmas tree...without the risk of swallowing the needles.

'Twas the night before Christmas, and in my glass clear, A whiskey that whispered of good holiday cheer. With a nose hinting maple, and honey, a touch, A warmth from the spirits, though not overly much. On tasting it wheaty, a grainy delight, Yet on balance it stayed just an average bite. No twinkling stars, no fantastical tale, But comfort it brought in its simplicity scale As I took a small sip, it was wheaty and neat, This average whiskey's flavor was discreet. By the fire we sat, in the soft candlelight, Toasting our glasses to a calm winter night

'Twas the night of the thirteenth tasting, and all through the night, Each dram was evaluated by palate and sight. But one pour was puzzling, as baffling as can be, A mystery to solve, perhaps only for me. It smelled faintly of wheat, but then what more to find? No other scents registered, left me so blind. Then came the tasting, oh what a dread, The flavor was awful, just as I said. In a twist of fate, others might think it divine, But this whiskey's for them, not for this tongue of mine. So cheers to the nights, and the tastings we seek, For every bad dram, a new favorite we meet!

'Twas the night of the twelfth tasting, and all through the air, Came scents that were hot, hot, hot—none to compare. A young whiskey, perhaps, or high proof, maybe both? A complex aroma that teased like an oath. With a taste smooth and smoky, like a fine Scotch allure, Each sip was a marvel, each note so pure. A sweet finish lingered, oh what a delight, I dreamt of a bottle on that cold winter's night. The magic of whiskey, like Christmas so near, Brings warmth to the soul and holiday cheer. So, raise a glass high, to flavors refined, For a dram so exquisite, truly one of a kind.

This one seems young and all over the place. Speaking of, happy birthday to my son Reece!

Really wanted to like this, but I just don't. Tasting those apples though.

Nothing to write home about. Not offensive, but if I remember correctly, it's kind of forgettable.