It’s been a minute. I opened this bottle during a very different time. @Richard-ModernDrinking posted a beautiful review of Laphroaig 25 a year or so ago and spoke of the therapeutic effect that whiskey can have on loneliness. Spoiler - the connections and intrigue that whiskey help us build are more palliative than the tincture of alcohol itself. At the time I often sipped bourbon with family and a handful of friends. Fear was uncommon. I was perhaps more afraid of this bottle than most things at the time. It was foreign and esoteric. Recommended by a German colleague as the pinnacle of scotch whiskys, I had no idea what I was getting into. The first pour from this bottle left me swearing, mostly at my colleague. The second and third sips morphed into something less offensive and more so fascinating. My mouth was numb. Camphor numb. Phenol numb. I recall my pediatricians office. Not sterile (impossible in the account that kids are germ bags) but laden with disinfectant. There were bits of bandaid and fire. And salt. I actually gassed this bottle to come back to it. Five or so years later and 3/4 of the way gone there is not telling if my argon and parafilm preserved what is left. My mind has certainly not been preserved. Sleepless nights, long shifts, another child, a transition to a faculty position, something about a pandemic and growing inequity… something(s) along the way broke a bit. My bourbon buddies are largely out of commission for one reason or another. Recovering from COVID myself I am unsure what to trust if my senses. I’ve spent over 2 years researching vaccines to stop it and am boosted myself and should just be glad to be here. I have a job, a healthy family, more freedoms than 7/10ths of the world will ever know. And I also have this wonderfully geeky whiskey community to ward off isolation and to you I say cheers! So… right. This is a whiskey app. Or rum, or cognac, or mezcal or whatever @cascode is drinking these days… or @ContemplativeFox and @ctbeck11 with their vodka…. So what if this pour? Delightfully pale with a medium crisp cling inside the glass. Phenol, iodine, honey, heather all still there. A nice bit of earthy peat and wet ash. Wet oak and brine. Possibly some ripe red fruits buried in there as well. Medium to light in body with a wash of ash, iodine, caramel malt and slightly acidic and earthy peat. It’s sort of like drinking a Pilsner in a smoky bar - something that makes me question reality, glitch in the matrix sort of thing. Second take is more malt - heavy, sweet malt without too many frills. Then a bit of lemon zest, kelp and ash. There is a nice balance between the medicinal, malt and ash notes. Nothing about this says. I’m probably missing some nuanced, lighter notes due to age or dulled senses. I don’t get any meaty barbecue notes or any particular funk. There is nothing soft about this. It seems weathered, hardened, as though the wind and salt have taken a toll upon its face. I feel like I can relate. This will remain my brooding whisky. A painkiller - meant to take things from an 8 to a 6. Livable. Workable. Durable. While not instinctively pleasant it has its joys that you will not rob from it and it’s secrets that you will not hear. I have a hard time rating it because for me it is a bit of a “mood” whisky. I could drink it at a bar with friends, I could drink it alone in the dark. Either way it can be polarizing and context might sway you one way or the other. It is well composed but lacks nuance. Fine for $50-60. I would love to see what happens to it at 18-25 years but will probably stick with Springbank 10, Ardbeg Corry and JW Green if I want a more nuanced peat fix - albeit at $20-40 more. Now, back to brooding.