What’s most intriguing about this bourbon is its lack of sweetness. A glance at the mash bill shows it’s limited to 51% corn, which explains a lot of it since it’s roughly 25% lower than most bourbons on the market. I can’t decide whether I like that reduced sweetness, but it’s got my attention.
I’ve never been a fan of the children’s vitamin note common to whiskeys made there, and I assumed this would bring more of the same. It didn’t. This is a delicious whiskey with unique virtues appreciated in its aromas and flavors.
I might recommend making this your only pour of the night or at least your first. It’s a bourbon unlike most anything else on the shelves and requires, dare I say, deserves, some devoted attention.
Perhaps the big question for most is whether the whiskey is noticeably influenced by its journey to and rest in England. For me, at least, the answer is no. It tastes like a 6-year-old bourbon should–like any bourbon aged here for six years would taste.
Too often secondary finishes are used to cover up mediocre juice and can leave an unbalanced sweetness with an unpleasant finish. This is not the case with the Cab Cask Reserve, and, to me, it tastes like a better-balanced, more nuanced Angel’s Envy Port Finish.
The nose leads with sorghum molasses, raspberry tart, dark fired tobacco, glove leather, creamed corn, soda bread, macadamia nuts, chocolate graham cracker. Yeah, all that and more.
Remus Gatsby Reserve leads with aromas of caramel, candied dark fruit and saddle leather, with slight brown sugar and very sweet candied notes.
The nose is huge, leading with that unmistakable Brown-Forman yeast note that’s fruity, candied, floral and tropical. Browned biscuits, cinnamon, dark chocolate (yeah, it flirts with Mexican hot chocolate), confectioner’s sugar, old oak and licorice.
Loads of tropical fruit and lilac lead on the nose followed by orange lemon zests and a hint of dried grain. The deeply toasted oak reminds you that a 13-year-old bourbon makes up the bulk of this blend.
This bottle is so unique among the Wild Turkey pantheon that it really has to be experienced and shared, and until another release comes along that tastes this good and carries this kind of backstory, I’m going to say, albeit reluctantly, that it’s worth the MSRP.
