Bunnahabhain was constructed during the end of the Victorian era, a time when ambitions were high, whisky was booming, and the industrial revolution was in full swing. During the early days, Bunnahabhain focused more closely on supplying the blending market rather than marketing its whisky as single malt. Then, in the 1980s, Bunnahabhain, like many distilleries, went through a rough patch. During this time, it released a single malt, although its unfortunate tagline (“The unpronounceable malt”) didn’t do much to recommend it to connoisseurs. (For the curious, Bunnahabhain isn’t actually that hard to pronounce: BUN-na-HA-ben.)

For most whisky drinkers, Islay means peat. And it’s true. Islay whiskies include some of the peatiest malts in the world, including Lagavulin, Laphroaig, Ardbeg, and Bruichladdich’s remarkable Octomore series. Yet that’s not the entire story. Tucked away on Islay’s north end sits a distillery that is often overlooked, but should never be underestimated—Bunnahabhain. Founded in 1881, Bunnahabhain produces Islay’s only primarily unpeated single malt. Its gentle, welcoming flavor consistently surprises people who think all Islay whisky tastes like a smoldering campfire. Yet Bunnahabhain’s approachability shouldn’t lead you to dismiss it as somehow less respected or less authentic than Islay’s other peat monsters. Sometimes, whisky is about subtlety, not smoke, and who better to teach that lesson than the Ileach, the residents of Islay, who love Bunnahabhain so much it’s referred to as “the islander’s dram.”