Octomore 06.3/258 Islay Barley

Oh, my Lord. My wife and I, and some friends, went to Miami Whiskey Mash earlier this month and got to try some drams of this whisky. To be honest, before this event, I was wondering what all the Octomore hype was about. My initial encounter with Octomore was the 07.3, which I did not particularly enjoy, finding its flavor profile so strange that it almost didn't feel like a whiskey to me but more like a barrel-aged gin. That really put me off this series, given its high cost and rarity. Why hunt for something like that? Well, mea culpa, now I have my answer. Octomore 06.3 is a tour de force of a peated whisky, and famously was the peatiest scotch on the market before Bruichladdich outdid themselves recently with several outlandish releases in the 8th series. Experiencing the peat of Octomore 06.3 is like hearing Beethoven's 5th for the first time: wave after wave of pure, unadulterated power. The hair was growing on my chest, my voice was deepening . . . like a 5-minute accelerated puberty redux, minus the acne and the intense awkwardness with girls. Rich Cuban cigar smoke, freshly burnt-out candles, but balanced by -- actually, it's not much balanced out by anything. And I love it. The asphalt or rubber notes that feature in Lagavulin show up here as well, and there's some of that earthier or mossier peat. It's a showcase for just about every flavor an enthusiast can find in a peated whisky. Definitely the winner of the festival, by far, and one of my top three whiskies of all time.

I bought 2 of these beasts recently from Norfolk Wine and Spirits. There may only be a half dozen bottles of Octomore 6.3 left in the entire US and Norfolk still has a couple available. At 258 ppm, this spirit continues to hold the title for the “world’s most peaty!“ Norfolk’s owner, Bikram, not only gave me a great price, but he also offered a sample prior to purchase, and my first impression of this expression was even more profound than my earlier review of the Octomore 7.1 (208ppm). On the nose, there’s a wave of meadow fragrances and maritime peatiness that’s simply more complex and unique than any other Islay whisky. You can sense the peat sitting there like a powder keg under layers of citrus and honeyed vanilla waiting for the proper chemistry to release its wrath, the key to which I have yet to find. Incredibly smooth for an ABV of 64%, the first warming mouthful explodes into a 5-star constellation without hesitation and a fitting salute to an Independence Day celebration. The nose is carried to the palate but now the young peatiness is much more satisfying and elegant than what I found in the Octo7.1; seemingly still shackled, however, to maintain a proper level of grace. The finish is the home run ball you remember from your youth that carries the fence in slow motion and with a similar level of elation. After a little experimentation, a pile of ice was necessary to help put out the fireworks and cool the temperatures of a perfect day with family and friends. Hats off to retired master distiller, Jim McEwan, for one of his swan song creations.