The nose feels like an inverse triangle of peat. All the malt and sliced off, leaving just an inverted cone of sharp vegetation funneled up into your face. Maybe some lemon zestin there too. I guess it's younger than other offerings from Springbank, but it seems to have far less oil and viscosness. Yep, the palate is sharp too. Cutting and biting across the tongue. Smoking more like a steam-burn than a campfire. It's still got the organic streak that Springbank does like no one else, but it's random. Undisciplined. A bit like the 12 year old who only behaves when his dad is in the room. Honeycomb. Salt. Moss. And cold sunshine. Fun on occasion. But mostly makes you remember his older brothers.