Ah yes, Edition 7 of Garryana—the whiskey series that asks the bold question:
“What if your whiskey went camping in the Pacific Northwest and came back emotionally evolved?”
This installment of Westland’s oaky adventure throws together two big personalities:
*Garry Oak, the deep, moody local tree that’s basically the brooding poet of barrel woods.
*And Washington Wine casks, sturdy, complex, and a little dramatic (probably listens to vinyl and talks about terroir at parties).
These two get cozy in the barrel for a while, and what emerges is a glorious spice-and-fruit flavor explosion—or, as we prefer to call it, a mélange, because it sounds fancier and makes us feel like we’re wearing tweed while sipping.
Together, they create a whiskey with structure, depth, and the kind of savory richness that makes you raise one eyebrow thoughtfully and whisper, “Oh wow, that’s… interesting,” before pouring yourself a second glass.
Tasting vibes (because notes are too formal):
Spice cabinet raided by a fruit orchard.
Dark cherries mingling with smoked peppercorns.
Like a fancy charcuterie board, but in liquid form—and without that one weird cheese no one touches.
