Many thanks to Telex for a sample of this one-of-a-kind scotch! Imagine buying a meal at a German restaurant and then stirring some of the key ingredients -- pretzels, bratwurst -- into a glass of Ardbeg 10. It'd get a little saltier, a little funkier, a little oilier, a little meatier, and a bit darker in color. That's the best way to sum up my Kelpie experience. It is a strange, sometimes fascinating, sometimes just plain odd combination of flavors. Just as the kelpie is a shapeshifter, taking the form of a horse in the water but a strapping lad on land, this whisky's nose is complex and ever-changing. The peat here is of the woody variety, but it smells like wood that's been baking in the sun or that's just begun to heat up but before it catches fire. It's a dry, resinous scent. The nose also has some of the pungency of oil at times, yet at other times seems floral. Occasionally, it hits a classic combination of peat and brine that reminds me of Laphroaig's 2015 Cairdeas expression. All of a sudden, after getting used to all of these scents, something different emerges. There is a sweet and sour note that I can't identify, very different than the fresh citrus that I detect in Ardbeg 10. To borrow a fun word I learned from Distiller users, Kelpie also exhibits a hint of petrichor (the smell that comes with rain, like wet gravel or earth). And I'm not done yet! There is an occasional whiff of charred meat, like the smoke ring of a brisket. Last but not least, on every third or fourth whiff I get a smell that's a dead ringer for a big bucket of pretzels. I mean one of those mega-tubs of thin, dry, salty pretzel sticks that college RAs sometimes have in their dorms as a snack for their kids. The palate entry is akin to a richer, more buttery, oilier version of Ardbeg 10, with a tart but darker sweetness than in its lighter cousin. Oily, which is characteristic of Ardbeg at higher ABVs. There is plenty of peat in the palate as well, but it's a mellow peat, and the wood backbone is of the pine variety. There's also a slight pungency in the whisky that I can't place. Like the nose, the palate is complex and shifts after a second or two in the mouth. It grows very salty and briney, and perhaps is the saltiest scotch I've had to date. There is that dry, slightly chalky, salty taste that recalls the pretzels I detected on the nose, combined with a lavender-infused honey which is the most pleasant aspect of the taste. The combination of salt, some spice, and savory richness toward the end is almost like a sausage. Kelpie has a warm and salty conclusion, featuring licorice and anise sweetness and a long-lasting medicinal quality that wasn't as noticeable at the start. The peppery quality of this type of oak also stands out to me here, but the salt remains the dominant aspect of this stage. Too salty to fit squarely in my wheelhouse, but this has to be one of the more complex scotches I've ever had. Cheers!