Don’t panic! Its not your New Year’s Day hangover tricking you, nor have we broken our cardinal rule about not reviewing whisky.

This is a non-alcoholic alternative that’s very much trying to masquerade as Glendronach 12 or a Tomintoul Cigar Malt. This is Glen Dochus Royale and it’s part of a range that’s trying to replicate the typical characters of classic Scotch regions/styles. The Royale is a few quid more expensive than its fellows and positioned as follows:

Rich and fragrant. Full of the soft, warming, autumnal flavours of roasted hazelnut, candied orange, vanilla and honeycomb.

The initial nose gives hope to that claim. A quick whiff is reminiscent of very old grain like a North British or a Cameronbridge. Other times I get the foam banana of Jack Daniel’s. However, if you let your nose linger, or shove it in Richard Paterson style, you’ll swiftly be disappointed. An overwhelming chemical note rides to the fore and does not let up. Describing this note is hard. It’s like you’ve tried to swallow a paracetamol with vanilla essence and ended up with it stuck in your throat. It’s what I imagine drinking banana vape juice would be like.

We try not to be mean for the sake of it at All But Drams. So in Glen Dochus’ defence this chemical note that dominates the affair is technically reminiscent of very aged grain whisky. I suspect it’s an over concentration of Vanillin, the primary flavour compound of vanilla that oak also imparts into whisky. They haven’t filled this product with Vanillin for a laugh, it’s a side effect of the right elements being presented in a way that just doesn’t work for me. You can experience a more tolerable example of this artificial flavour in Lindor Shortbread Truffles for instance. A good example of this note occurring naturally would be Bartell’s Spirit of North Scotland. This same note is hiding in there, albeit amid much more interesting companion flavours that win out.

Taking Glen Dochus neat that possibly-Vanillin-chemical-note is all I get, though it is followed by some honey and caramel. The finish is upsettingly long. I burped an hour later and got a harsh reminder of the flavour. Of course, Glen Dochus was meant for mixing so I’ll focus on that. With Coke, the banana is back along with some oak but, shock horror, that chemical taste blasts through. If there were some way to get rid of it this could be a decent Jack Daniel’s alternative even if it fails at single malt notes. An Old Fashioned doesn’t have much luck either. I hoped ice, syrup and bitters would drown out the off flavours but if anything they made it worse. Trying with cherry notes somehow turbo-charged my suffering and gave me a cocktail that was reminiscent of cough medicine instead.

At least the bottle looks nice, right? Well yes, but the decanter style closure is actually hard to open without spraying whisky everywhere and there’s an uncomfortable grinding of glass on glass whenever you try to close it. I’m sure that if I ever got to the bottom of this bottle it would be full of sand. It’s a shame that this bottle just cannot be kept and reused. The £24.95 I spent is completely wasted.

I acknowledge that making no-alcohol whisky is so much harder than other spirits because the flavour comes from the interaction of the spirit with the wood, rather than any botanicals. If you add the relevant flavours directly into the liquid you just don’t get the same result. The best malternatives are the ones that try to recreate a feeling rather than the science. With brands like Three Spirit and Crossip you’re not going to get a direct translation of your dram, but you’ll get something that feels grown up and full of flavour, not the disappointment that comes with Glen Dochus Royale. This is one to avoid for Dry January.