This is the first time in 118 reviews on this site that I’m giving a whisky a 5-star review. It’s possible I’m unnecessarily picky. Often on review sites, I get annoyed with the generosity of 5-star reviews. I’m reminded when I see the number of them getting kicked around of now-canceled but still in the running for the GOAT of comedy Louis CK when he says, “As humans, we waste the shit out of our words. It’s sad. We use words like ‘awesome’ and ‘wonderful’ like they’re candy. It was awesome? Really? It inspired awe? It was wonderful? Are you serious? It was full of wonder? You use the word ‘amazing’ to describe a goddamn sandwich at Wendy’s. What’s going to happen on your wedding day, or when your first child is born? How will you describe it? You already wasted ‘amazing’ on a fucking sandwich.” So while I wouldn’t say my standards are unfairly high, I don’t dole out a perfect score lightly. I’ve given quite a few 4.75s, which is probably my version of a 5-star review. I suppose for me, I always thought of 5-stars as the unattainable, the holy grail, the orgasmic experience just out of reach, complex and robust enough to always be interesting after you’ve had many sips, but drinkable so that you never get tired of having it. Also, needs to be at an affordable price commensurate with its quality, and I suppose, I also need to have experienced it in a setting that was memorable, that really made the quality of the whisky stand out as a shared experience with friends or family who matter to me. It’s been about 4 years now since I’ve had the Laphroaig 10. It’s always around and I know I love it, but for some reason I just never think to buy it. I’ve heard it some regions it’s been reduced to 80-proof, but here it’s still 86, and two weeks ago, I decided to pick up a bottle, since it was on sale. I cracked it during the football game over the weekend, and I thought, wait, this is it, this is the 5-star bottle I’ve been pretending has eluded me all this time. You see, in terms of whisky, Laphroaig 10 is my first love. There’s no getting around it. Before I had Laphroaig 10 in my mid-20s, I liked getting drunk. I preferred whisky, but I’d drink vodka or gin, too. I’d have tequila if that’s what was available. But I wasn’t picky. And when it came to whisky, I’d only had passable Irish (blends, Tully, Jameson) and what I’d now think of as a bottom shelf respectable mixer was my go-to with bourbon (Evan Williams Black) while every once in a while I’d splurge on Maker’s Mark or Knob Creek. My boss regifted a bottle of Balvenie 12 to me one Christmas and that was really good, much better than anything I’d had before, but it didn’t change my palate the way that my introduction to Laphroaig 10 did. And it all happened during a blinded scotch tasting on my friend Peter’s porch. There were standards there, ubiquitous bottles that circulated in my friend group: Glenfiddich 12, Glenlivet 12, and we sampled these. There may have been an Aberlour in the group. And I know Ardbeg 10 was there circulating with the Laphroaig 10. And while both were eye-opening experiences, there was something about Laphroaig that pushed it up a notch over Ardbeg for me. I’m not ever sure I have to describe it here as though my experience of the whisky is unique, but here goes: on the nose you get a peat campfire, medicinal iodine, sea salt, a bit of vanilla and maybe a hint of citrus. On the palate it’s creamy and robust and the vanilla and peat mingle in this sweet/savory balance that’s pretty much perfect diving straight into a long finish with the smoke and peat lingering and every sip leaving you wanting more. That is, if you’re into it. Turns out only Peter and I were into it, the rest waving it off as “too smoky,” but we were hooked and it was a treat for us. I feel like whenever I splurged on a bottle, I’d make sure Peter was around to share some with and vice versa. Then when I met my brother-in-law, shortly after I’d started dating the woman who would become my wife, he was into Islay too and busted out a bottle of Laphroaig Quarter Cask. And from then on, being into Islay and being able to talk Laphroaig was like a secret handshake with every scotch drinker I met that meant you were down, that you knew what was up. So why I don’t I buy is more often? I mean, I get the Cairdeas every year and if the cask strength comes out I buy that, and I nabbed the Lore last year when I saw it, but because the 10 is always around and always available I seem to forget to pick it up, forget how much I love it, forget how much drinking it feels like coming back to my youth, reigniting a passion, reencountering a first love. I believe I spoke like this when I reviewed Ardbeg 10, in terms of passion and first loves, and Ardbeg can spark this feeling as well, but still, in the end, when I’m tasting them side-by-side, there’s something about Laphroaig that edges Ardbeg out. Laphroaig to me simply feels like I’m coming home after a long absence and being embraced by arms that love me too.