Luxurious with a slight musty, funkiness. Raspberries and purple fruit, maple and vanilla. Like many, I’m currently on a Diageo ban, but Crown Royal doesn’t count for me because it’s Canadian and I’m Canadian and I like to buy, talk about, and review Canadian whisky, OK?īut do I like it? Well, that’s a different topic. As usual, it’s probably chill filtered with added colouring. I’m pleasantly surprised to see they disclose this blend is 85% un-malted and 15% malted barley, but we don’t know whether the barley components were mashed together or separately and then blended to make this release. We don’t know how it was distilled, what type of barrels were used and for how long it was matured. Being Diageo and a tradCan distillery, obviously there’s not much transparency or information to be had. I had to buy it because of how much I loved the previous Noble Collection release - Winter Wheat. Precisely why my Barley Edition was opened within 30 minutes of it coming in through the front door. This is the seventh and final release of the series which now officially makes them collectible antiques - pretty bottles that look good in a display case. Although I haven’t heard much noise from the series, I’ve no doubt there are many Crown Royal super fans out there with multiples of each of the releases. The Crown Royal Noble Collection is one that’s prime for, ahem, collecting. We can look upon a collection of unopened bottles, or a large horde of Blanton’s, and try to instigate a conversation that fuels curiosity and wonderment even while at the same time wondering: Do people even like drinking the stuff?Ĭrown Royal Noble Collection, Barley Edition, Canadian Whisky, 7th and final in the series, 45% ABV
Sometimes I feel it takes significant effort to not come across as a snob when discussing whisky things with muggles, and I hate that. Little signals like the way a glass is held and swirled, or rotated on its side slowly and carefully to coat the entire interior of the glass, the positioning of the nose relative to glass, or how it becomes totally natural to sniff and sip 60% alcohol like somehow we were meant to. It’s very easy for us to spot our kin from a quick observation even if individual tastes don’t align. When I look at the collections of those who’ve caught it, I typically see a lot of air in the glass. It comes across as a bit gatekeeper-like, but the truth is high alcohol is the gatekeeper here, blocking true enjoyment for those who haven’t spent the time to build up a bit of a weathered tongue and marketing wins the spot on the shelf. The truth is, as whisky exciters, we are in the strange position to be interested in the taste of a consumable product that most people consider relatively non-consumable. It’s not infrequent in the Dramface writers group or among whisky enthusiasts for someone to ponder why some brands get away with selling mediocre products at elevated prices year after year. But a nice wine cellar is a different thing from a stocked liquor cabinet in that, usually, people care what the wine tastes like. Popular culture says it’s sophisticated to have a nice collection of bottles and enjoy sipping them on occasion. Jokes aside, this clip resonated with me because it’s a phenomenon I’ve thought about many times before.
The other day she burst into my office, which is located two metres from her office (I use the term “office” loosely - the joys of working from home) to show me an entertaining clip of a man trying to convince himself he enjoys whisky. If something is more interesting, urgent, or extremely amusing and she’s looking for a more immediate response, she will either text a link or show me a post directly on hers. My fiancée, who identifies as “very online”, typically keeps me updated on the latest social media trends by forwarding posts to my Instagram account which I check religiously on the second Thursday of every month via desktop computer.