Jura is an odd duck. The island has more deer than people and the whisky apparently needs rebranding once a decade. The spirit produced there has always struck me as a bit wild with an element of coastal mangroves. I find the biggest draw is the peated spirit produced at the distillery, which is now entirely absent the core lineup since the Prophecy and Superstition were retired. I credit SMWS including “soap” on the bottle description for the fact that I won this bottle at auction a few years back— no doubt that kept away some of the people who might otherwise have been interested. I seem to have a predilection for these floral whiskies.

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Whisky: Jura 21 Year (1989), SMWS 31.22 “An island road worker’s dram”

Country/Region: Scotland/Islands

ABV: 56.5%

Cask: 2nd Fill Bourbon Hogshead

Age: 21 Years (Distilled 19 April 1989, Bottled 2011)

Notes: Cracked and eroded coastal roads came into view with stone, minerals, coastal salinity, and heather. A touch floral at times, beachside morning glories and heather bloomed with hints of tropical mango, papaya, and vanilla. A shoreline hike with hints of cigarette smoke and tar accented by bleached driftwood and rock pools. Medium-bodied, the flavor profile jumped into an ashtray of spent cigarette butts, tobacco, sand, and subtle menthol. Acrid elements stood alongside floral qualities as lavender, musk, and jasmine appeared.  A touch of creosote and tar brought me back around to roadwork, asphalt laid in the morning, now cooling in an evening breeze. Peppery tobacco smoke and tarry ropes lingered at the end with a forgotten caramel candy.  The finish was medium-length and slightly drying with gentle coastal salt and peppery wood.

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Score: 8 (88)

Mental Image: Post-Apocalyptic Coastal Promenading 

Conclusion: I shared this with a friend in the “Jura always sucks” crowd and after one sip he wondered if he needed to reevaluate that foregone conclusion, or if this was a one off. As he put it, “Jura doesn’t suck?” He did not find this soapy, and neither did I, though I can see how some might find those floral elements akin to soap. It begs the question, what flavor did your grandmother use to clean out your mouth after swearing? The answer probably determines whether you find this soapy— and bless you if you did not come of age when washing out your mouth with soap was something that happened. The whisky was otherwise acrid with plenty of phenolic elements despite the age. There was a wonderful contrast (not conflict) between these floral, maritime, acrid, and fruity layers that constantly brought be back for another pour.