Beyond the Prescribed Palate: Why I Stopped Trusting Tasting Notes (And You Should Too)

Picture this: It's 2019, and I'm leading a whisky tour at The Macallan. I've just finished nosing a dram and I'm describing what I'm experiencing to the group. It's vivid, it's specific, it's true to what I'm getting from the whisky. The group stares at me for a beat too long. One person laughs nervously. I second-guess myself, laugh it off, move on.

Fast forward to now: I own those descriptions. They're not weird, they're not wrong, they're mine. And more importantly, they're proof that learning how to taste whisky shouldn't make you feel inadequate.

But here's what took me years to accept: prescriptive tasting notes aren't just unhelpful. They're actively damaging whisky exploration. If you've ever read "notes of pencil shavings and grandmother's attic" and thought "what the hell am I supposed to do with that information," this is for you. And if you've ever felt stupid for not tasting what the experts told you to taste, you're not alone.

When "Different" Became "Wrong"

I started at The Macallan in 2018 as a Guest Experience Coordinator. Before that moment leading tours, I'd spent months in training - various courses, industry experiences, learning the "right" way to talk about whisky. But it was at the Scotch Whisky Experience where everything shifted for me. I was exploring whisky from a guest's point of view, not just regurgitating what I'd been taught, and I felt genuinely out of body when learning about it.

When I started leading tours and creating my own narrative for how to educate people, something strange happened. I'd let guests describe what they were getting from a whisky first, then I'd share mine. And people would stop and think about what I'd said in a way that felt different. A few times my descriptions were a bit out there - I started to second-guess whether I should tone it down, but then I decided to just own it and laugh it off when things got awkward.

Then I had my daughter in 2022, and something fundamental changed in my brain. The colours and scenes I'd always vaguely experienced became vivid. Undeniable. And my enjoyment of them grew in ways I hadn't expected.

That's when I started learning about synaesthesia and hyperphantasia. Lightbulb moment. It explained why I'd never felt like I fully belonged in certain industry spaces, why my descriptions didn't fit the mould, why I'd spent years thinking I was doing it wrong.

Spoiler: I wasn't wrong. The system was.

"You Will Get..." "You Should Get..." (But What If I Don't?)

Let's talk about the language that shuts people down before they've even had a chance to develop their own palate.

"You will get notes of leather and tobacco." "You should be tasting dried fruit and oak."

This language doesn't invite exploration. It prescribes an answer. And if you don't get leather and tobacco? If you taste something completely different? The unspoken message is clear: your palate isn't sophisticated enough yet. You haven't earned the right to disagree with the experts.

I can't point to one specific moment where someone made me feel stupid for not getting their prescribed notes, but I can tell you about the accumulated weight of language that makes you feel like you have to fit into a box. Being in a group tasting where everyone's nodding along to "leather and apple," and you turn around and say you're getting forest green and lemongrass - they look at you like you've grown five heads.

And let's be honest about the demographics here. Being a woman in a room full of men who all agree on the tasting notes makes your alternative perspective feel inherently invalid. The whisky industry has showcased tasting and purchasing as one path, one type of person for far too long. It's not fluid. It's not welcoming.

I want to change that.

Because here's the thing: the biggest lie the whisky industry tells beginners is that whisky has to be enjoyed a specific way. That whisky is only for the rich. That whisky is only for men. None of that is true, but the gatekeeping language reinforces it constantly.

And there's actual science behind why this approach is bollocks. Everyone's palate IS different. We have genetic variations in taste receptors. Your lived experience shapes what you taste - if you grew up eating certain foods, those references are hardwired into your sensory memory. Synaesthesia and hyperphantasia like mine are just the extreme end of normal sensory diversity.

There is no "correct" way to taste whisky. There's only YOUR way.

When I Nose Whisky, I See Colours (And Why That's Not Weird)

So what do I actually experience? Let me give you a specific example.

When I nose Glen Scotia Double Cask Rum Cask Finish, I see a beige colour that morphs into a full 90s vanilla ice cream commercial playing in my head. You know the one - that classic moment where the ice cream scoop is taking that first scoop out of the carton and it's forming into a perfect ball. That satisfying, smooth moment. I can see it with my eyes open or closed. It's the same clip on repeat, just visual, no sound.

Does that sound bonkers? Probably. But it's what I experience, and it's consistent every time I nose that whisky.

That's synaesthesia - crossed sensory wiring where one sense triggers another. For me, taste and smell trigger colour and visual scenes. The hyperphantasia bit means those visuals are vivid and cinematic, not vague impressions.

Now, I'm not telling you this to say "I'm special and you're not." I'm telling you this to prove that EVERYONE's sensory experience is valid and different. If my brain can turn whisky into a 90s ice cream advert, someone else's brain can turn it into their grandmother's kitchen or a walk through an autumn forest or the smell of new leather boots.

None of us are wrong. We're just experiencing the same whisky through different sensory filters built from our own lives and brain wiring.

The point isn't whether you see colours when you nose whisky. The point is whether you feel confident describing what YOU experience without someone telling you you're doing it wrong.

How to Taste Whisky YOUR Way (And Actually Enjoy It)

Right, so if prescribed tasting notes don't work, what does? Here's my approach - not rules, just a framework that might help you develop your own sensory vocabulary.

Stop looking at tasting notes first. Nose the whisky blind. Write down YOUR first impressions - what it reminds you of, what feelings it evokes, what random memories pop up. Then, if you want, look at the official notes. Notice the differences without judging yourself. Sometimes reading what others have experienced can help you find the words for something you're sensing but can't quite articulate. But don't let it sway you away from your true impressions.

Use references that mean something to YOU. If it reminds you of your gran's house, say that. If it tastes like the beach smells in summer, say that. If it's giving you 90s ice cream commercial vibes, own it. Specific is always better than "correct."

Build your sensory library intentionally. Start smelling things on purpose. Spices, fruits, wood, whatever you come across. Notice how things make you FEEL, not just what they "are." Your vocabulary comes from your life, not from a textbook someone else wrote.

Trust yourself in groups. Your palate is as valid as anyone else's at that table. Say "I'm getting X," not "I think maybe possibly X?" Confidence isn't arrogance when you're describing your own experience.

Here's the permission slip you might need: You don't have to taste what the experts taste. You need to taste what YOU taste and have the language to describe it.

When people leave one of my tastings, I want them to feel excited, free, and encouraged. I want them to find themselves in the whisky they're trying, not someone else's prescribed experience. That's what makes this enjoyable instead of intimidating.

It's About Belonging, Not Just Tasting Notes

This goes deeper than just learning how to taste whisky for beginners. It's about gatekeeping knowledge and joy in an industry that should be celebrating both.

Everyone deserves a place to feel like they belong. The whisky and drinks industry is exciting and community-focused - we can't keep the doors closed to people who don't fit a narrow definition of "expert."

I went through some hard times personally and professionally over recent years. Finding my community with the OurWhisky Foundation, having mentors who helped me build confidence, learning that my knowledge is MINE and no one can take it away - that changed everything for me.

As humans, we want to share the things that bring us joy. If I can get someone to feel comfortable enjoying whisky AND feel like they can be themselves while doing it, I've succeeded. That's what matters.

This is what Vantage Creative is built on. Not prescribing experiences. Empowering people to develop their own.

Your Palate Isn't Broken

If you've made it this far, here's what I want you to take away: trust your palate. It's not broken. The system that told you there was only one right answer was broken.

Your sensory experience is valid. Your descriptions are legitimate. Your preferences matter. And learning how to taste whisky shouldn't be about memorising someone else's vocabulary - it should be about discovering your own.

I work with small groups and corporate teams to create tasting experiences that celebrate individual sensory experience, not prescriptive notes. If that sounds like something you or your team would enjoy, drop me a message to chat. You can reach me at samantha@vantagecreativescot.co.uk, via Instagram @vantagecreativescot, or through my website at www.vantagecreativescot.co.uk.

Because here's the truth: learning how to taste whisky shouldn't be intimidating. It should be liberating.