The van smells of leather, peat and memories. The road takes us through the misty lanes of Ireland's north coast to the sound of Van Morrison's ‘Gloria’.

Fred, always ready to debate the subtleties of ageing, grows impatient: ‘Do you think Alex Thomas will let us taste the Mizunara?’

Stéphane is more interested in the legend of Finn McCool than whisky, but he is there, faithful to the cause, ready to walk on the hexagonal stones of the Giant's Causeway.

After a contemplative pause facing the Atlantic, we arrive in Bushmills.

The distillery, founded in 1608, is a gem of authenticity. Alex Thomas welcomes us with his genuine smile and Ballymoney accent.

She shows us around the old distillery, with its copper stills and walls steeped in history, before taking us to its brand new twin, inaugurated in 2024. Two worlds that complement each other: tradition and modernity.

In the distillery's historic bar, with its wood-panelled walls and oak aromas, Alex serves us the two distillates. Fred settles in, his gaze focused. Stéphane observes the golden reflections in the glasses as if they contained fragments of Ireland.

First, let's lay the groundwork. Alex suggests we start with the basics. 

I told her that Fred was also a big fan of BLACK BUSH (and sherry ageing), so it makes perfect sense that she should introduce us to the brand's 10-year-old whisky.

This whiskey is often considered the ideal introduction to the world of Irish single malts. It embodies the finesse and tradition of Bushmills, with an accessible yet rich aromatic profile, perfect for enthusiasts and novices alike.

Of course, it is triple distilled, typical of the Irish style, and then aged mainly in bourbon casks (American oak) with a small proportion in sherry casks (European oak).

On the first nose, this whisky reveals a beautiful freshness. There are notes of apple and ripe pear.

On the second nose, there are notes of vanilla from the bourbon casks, as well as sweet notes of honey. 

On the third sniff, hidden behind these springtime notes, you can detect the impact of the sherry cask with  light chocolate notes.

The attack on the palate is smooth and mellow. The whisky glides over the palate with a velvety texture, almost like buttercream. There are, of course, notes of caramel  and orchard fruits. 

Overall, this whisky is quite round, without any harshness. However, there is a hint of subtle spice in the middle of the palate.

The finish is medium with fairly discreet woody notes and a return of vanilla and dried fruit,

followed by a slight, elegant bitterness that invites a second sip.

Alex then introduces us to his new baby: Bushmills 22 Year Old Mizunara is a single malt that combines Irish tradition with Japanese artistry.

Like the 10-year-old we just tasted, this whisky, part of the Causeway Collection range, is aged in bourbon and oloroso sherry casks, but for twice as long (from 2002 to 2022). It is then matured for two years in Mizunara oak casks (a precious wood native to Hokkaido) for an unprecedented aromatic complexity. It is offered at cask strength at 53.4% and is intended only for the French market.

So? Will this wise old Irishman dressed in a Japanese kimono tell us a story of wood, sea and fire?

From the very first breath, the journey began. A warm breeze with woody notes of sandalwood laden with fresh coconut envelops you.

On the second sniff, you'll find mellow, sweet notes of dried apricots, soft figs and caressing vanilla on a woody base of patinated leather.

Then, slowly, on the third sniff, as if the whisky were catching its breath, sweet spices emerge, with even a hint of cardamom and cinnamon.

On the palate, the first sip has hints of velvety whispers. Salted butter caramel and macadamia nuts open the dance with the warmth of its alcohol content.

Then, in perfect balance, the sherry brings its black fruits, while the Mizunara, discreet but essential, distils its greener notes of tea and damp wood.

A complex but never overbearing structure takes hold. At 53.4%, the distillate could have roared. Instead, it whispers.

The finish was not an ending. It stretched out, long and persistent, like a song you hum long after hearing it. Sweet spices, noble wood and a floral touch. A hint of salinity, almost marine, reminds us that Bushmills was born where the land meets the ocean.

Fred, loyal to Black Bush, frowned at first. But very quickly, his expression changed. ‘It's not the same juice... but it's damn good,’ he whispered, almost to himself, as if he had just betrayed an old friend for a passing love.

As for Stéphane, who until then had regarded whisky as one might regard a train one will never take, he concluded with a smile: "Well... maybe I'll have to give it a try after all."

The sun sets over the distillery. We raise our glasses one last time in Bradpeat, parked facing the golden fields.

Fred and Stéphane laugh, talk, live. And yet, it's been ten years since they left us, and I find myself alone, just like on that night of 13 November 2015.

Victims of the Bataclan, taken away by human folly. But in this van, in this glass, in this land they loved, they are here. Alive. Present.

This trip, this tasting, this article — it's for them. For Fred, the whisky lover. For Stéphane, the Ireland enthusiast. And for all those who continue to celebrate life, despite the barbarity, despite everything.

Sláinte, friends.