Tastes

Had the Octomore 10.3 recently, and this is pretty much the junior-varsity version — same concept minus the intensity. The peat is the glossy petrol variety, not the marshy or medicinal kind. I also get briny buttered popcorn on the nose and caramel and cotton in the mouth. Overall, then, you’d think the combination tastes like kettle corn, but it doesn’t. Nice mid-length finish rounds out a solid dram for a fair price.

There’s simply no peat like Laphroaig peat — it’s smoldering brush and ash, along with unapologetic Band-Aid. It changes character and intensity from glass to glass, giving way sometimes to mint and cucumber and hummus, all in balance. I don’t find any of the smoked bacon or meatiness that I get in Ardbeg; this is a bit greener. And it’s lovely start to finish, the latter lingering for a good minute or so. The Laphroaig 10 may be a better buy, but the intensity and length of the Lore are on a different level. Wife says it reminds her of a dead fire in an old castle.

Strains at the seams with alcohol and peat. Combined, they’re intense enough to remind me more of a gas spill than anything, but somehow in a refined way — for me, there’s no medicine or iodine or brine, just pure unmistakable petrol. And there’s so much complexity lurking underneath, if you can get there. I get a good whiff of creamy oatmeal on the nose, followed by heat and citrus and nuts on the palate, and mint and cucumber on the finish. Call it a Miami gas spill, then. Wish I could get hold of more.

When I first opened it, I was thinking ‘boring, lifeless, and 3.5 stars at best.’ Over a month or two, I realized how wrong I was: what I mistook as lifeless is muted, refined, and refreshing. You can see the age in the glass. The nose and palate are peak Irish, with wet forest and cottony biscuit, respectively. There’s also some cedar, pomegranate, and mint for complexity. Even as I write this — with the last glass from the bottle — I like it better and better. It’s a wistful old man’s whiskey for slugging with mid-tempo 70s tunes. Which means I need another bottle.

Beautiful, but I give a slight nod to the Uigedail and the 10-year when it comes to QPR. It’s a “dark” whisky: intense black pepper and black tar toward the front, and dark fruit and beef jerky toward the back. The peat turns up here and there, sometimes as smoke and sometimes as boggy green grass. Multidimensional; rewards attention; lingers and burns nicely. I’d probably like it even more in winter than I do in the dog days of August.

Utterly reliable. Nose: a note of aged hard cheese or lees, and a refined, clean combination of ocean air and smoky peat. Palate: hard edge of cotton or cloth or textile, along with Kit Kat chocolate wafer. Mid-length finish, with brine, clam, and sherry notes. The seaside vibe sets it apart; it’s one of a select few whiskys that I might actually be able to identify blind. Fabulous everyday sipper at around 46%.

Not your typical bourbon. It’s got the usual caramel and vanilla, but they’re secondary to cherry and shoe polish on the nose, and black pepper in the mouth. The alcohol is blended nicely into that pepper note — it comes across as spicy rather than hot. Great everyday drinker for folks who like finished bourbon.

Not everyone’s cuppa, and it’s an especially poor fit for purists. But I love it for a change of pace. Unusual notes everywhere, with grenadine on the nose and vanilla cupcake or frosted sugar cookies in the mouth. The alcohol bites down just this side of painful — hard enough to keep the whole experience from ever being cloying. And the finish lingers nicely. Superb, and really underrated.

For me, this is the sweet spot in the Ardbeg lineup. It’s more dry peat than wet: crisp campfire or ash rather than bogs or weeds or medicine. Mouthwatering on the palate, with salty bacon, olive oil, and maybe chocolate. Ever had one of those “Mo’s Bacon Bars” by Vosges Chocolate? It’s a little like that: intensely flavored, sweet, salty, savory, and addictive. And the finish lasts for more than a minute. All things considered — including availability and price — this is as near to perfect as I’ve found for an everyday dram.

BBQ smoke, black pepper, and a medicinal weediness. With some effort, I think (maybe) I can find a cantaloupe note. But it’s all a bit hot and one-dimensional, leaning heavily on the peat. Not a bad buy, but I much prefer the complexity and freshness of the ten-year at just $12 more.