If you were a professional baseball player, which song would the stadium play for your at-bats? Personally, I'd go with "Come On" by the Hives. The car you'd buy after winning the lottery? An Aston Martin DB7 Vantage, dark blue. We've all had these ridiculously hypothetical conversations, likely with an adult beverage in hand (and several more already working their magic). The same questions pop up over and over again, so I'll skip to the answers - crawfish etouffee, firing squad, x-ray vision, Giada de Laurentiis. The big one within the context of this blog would obviously be: if you had to choose one kind of scotch...? Actually, that's an easy one.
More importantly, Lagavulin is whisky you have to work up to. If you caught a 54" rockfish your first time dipping a hook in the Chesapeake, you probably wouldn't get the same thrill as someone who spent years pulling in catch and release size perch and croaker. You have to put your time in trying other malts before you appreciate just how much better this is. It's a hell of a reward, too.
The Lagavulin Distillery is the crown jewel of whisky tourism in Scotland, topping most lists of the most picturesque facilities. There is practically half a "Parks and Rec" episode devoted to Ron Swanson's pilgrimage to its hallowed grounds. They have a long history of bad blood with their neighbors on the south shore of Islay (aka 'the Kildalton Coast'), Laphroaig, dating back to the 19th century. It started with a little criss-cross ownership drama, followed by aspersions of espionage, and culminating in Bond-villainesque dam construction, tactically depriving the other of its water supply. The annals of Scottish history are littered with feuding neighbors however, so it's all in the national tradition.
This was to be my third Islay malt at the time, and after my Laphroaig and Ardbeg experiences, I raised the glass to my nose expecting crowd-control levels of peat smoke intensity. Oh yes, it brings the smoke with some to spare, but in that delightfully enveloping way like stepping into a colonial-style smokehouse, hams dangling from the ceiling. Sorry, non-Virginians, that's kind of a thing around here, at least at many of our touristy historic sites. If this is the same malt recipe as Caol Ila, you can already tell this one has a lot more going on without even taking a sip.
The phenol count is pretty high too, reportedly between 35-40 ppm (just shy of Laphroaig), but rather than formaldehyde or car tires, the aroma I get from Lagavulin is closer to gas station. Not gasoline, mind you, sniffing gas will make you dead or stupid; but rather that aroma that hits you getting out of the car at the pumps themselves. I've always liked that smell for some reason. It goes hand in hand with a wanderlust for the open road, literally a sense of empowerment. Damn, I need a vacation.
Leather is another hallmark aroma. Like plopping your face down into a soft leather coach for a nap, until the store manager asks you to leave. Notes of exotic spices and deeply rich sherry sweetness work their way through your nasal passages, bringing along creamy vanilla. When the smoke clears, the lingering aromas of seaweed and North Atlantic brine tingle a bit. I could just hold a Lagavulin in my hand and sniff it for hours, actually taking a drink seems like gilding the lily.
Forget what I just said, I'm planning on gilding the crap out of this lily. The peat smoke is a powerhouse on the palate, a firm kick in the pants but not so hard as to knock you down. The peaty phenols remind me of freshly tarred asphalt. To call this malt full-bodied would not do it justice. Malt flavor as strong as any Highland variety; enough oak to make an East Tennessean homesick. Warming mouth feel and peppery spices, just a touch of anise. The smoke gives way to a rich sweetness, bringing dried fruits, figs, dates, and toasted nuts. The richness of the vanilla and sherry flavors round out an amazingly smooth malt for all of its complexity.
"The Cognac of whiskys," anoints venerable Scottish actor Brian Cox while tipping back a Lagavulin. He's also the one helping you pronounce all these scotches if you've been clicking the links on my phonetic approximations, "...Works like a depth charge." Always trust a Scotsman when it comes to whisky or submarines.
The finish is long on smoke, and a bit drying if I had to nitpick about anything. The maritime character shows up more for me in the finish than on the palate itself, and it leaves you with a spicy white pepper bite for good measure. A dram of Lagavulin with a thick, medium rare filet, roquefort blue cheese, and raw oysters on the half shell? I'm rethinking my earlier 'crawfish etouffee' answer already.
This is not good scotch, this is likely your first encounter with great scotch. I would consider drinking it exclusively if I didn't have to refinance my house to do so. It is, however, the curse of the scotch enthusiast to branch out, continually trying new malts and exploring the further reaches of the world of whisky. I've barely made a dent in my efforts, but I imagine it will take a while to knock Lagavulin off its perch at the top of my list.
Overall Grade: 98/100, A+
No comments:
Post a Comment