N: welcomed by familiar Islay peat and sweetness of dried fruit, but there is the unfamiliar fragrance of a wood fire. Reminds me of winters in Colorado putting aspen blocks in the firepace. P: takes the usual peaty Lagavulin ride but crashes upbruptly into the cayenne-hot fire (the smoke, but much more, actually the fire itself), simmers down for the dried apricots and figs F: cools down with smoking cigars by the lake, seaweed and toasted smores. A fine dram that Ron Swanson should be proud of