Here is the soul of the apple, distilled and aged, then bottled with a confident wink. Willie Smith’s Tasmanian Apple Brandy is less a cousin to Calvados than a rogue sibling — with the clean energy of Tasmania’s fruit and a wild, whiskey-adjacent charisma.

On the nose, it’s muscular and brooding. Earthy baked apple, toasted spice, and a leather-strapped sense of maturity. There’s a richness to the oak influence — vanilla pod, cigar box, nutmeg, and burnt sugar — all softened by the sweetness of orchard fruit. A trace of dried flowers and crushed herbs hovers beneath it, like walking through an apple storehouse just as the barrels start to breathe.

The palate is dry but giving. Initial sips reveal roasted apple skin, cinnamon-dusted pear, and hints of sultana. There’s a striking backbone of oak — not overwhelming, but structural — offering toast, caramelised edges, and a whisper of smoke. Mid-palate, a nuttiness emerges — think pecan pie crust or almond praline — followed by a tug of dried orange peel and old vanilla bean. There’s an almost whisky-like depth here: spice, tannin, faint esters.

As it settles, it becomes more savoury. Hints of dried tea leaves, applewood smoke, and a salty, almost umami note that brings to mind miso or browned butter. It lingers long on the finish — dry, warming, with echoes of fruit, spice, and a dash of oak tannin that gently grips the tongue.

Serve it neat, room temperature, with no distraction. Ideal as a fireside drink or a contemplative nightcap. Pairs surprisingly well with hard cheeses, smoked meats, or a slice of fruitcake with just enough spice to match its depth.