On a work trip to Switzerland last week, a colleague warned me not to wear good clothes to the restaurant that evening. You’ll never remove the smell of meat, she said. She wasn’t kidding: it turns out that cooking slabs of venison, beef, lamb, horse and ostrich on individual hot stones is a great way to keep vegetarians away from your wardrobe. I was transported back to that restaurant once I got home and opened the bottle of Swiss single malt I bought at Zurich airport. Those heavy chunks of red meat that seemed to dominate every menu I perused last week have been seasoned, smoked and somehow converted into whisky. Bold, smoky beef flavors are the signature of the palate here, and they are as delicious as a lean piece of meat sizzling on a rock. But there’s a whole lot more to this whisky than grilled deer. There are notes of caramel and cherry cola too, and a weird but compelling aroma of white emulsion paint on the nose. That takes some getting used to as at first it bears little resemblance to anything on the palate and, as I said, the initial thing that comes to mind is paint, not hitherto recognized as a desirable characteristic in a whisky. But with time it unfurls into herbal lozenges (Ricola, of course) and maraschino cherries and is anyhow lost amid the aromas of gravy that seem to slowly fill the room after you’ve poured a glass. I should also note that the oily caramel finish is longer than an Alpine ski run. This is a unique and delicious whisky that I suspect will go down quickly. I’ll just have to temper my urgency to pour it in case I spill some on my clothes. While the sweatshirt I wore to the restaurant has finally stopped smelling, a few drops of Santis on my pants may be enough to summon a pack of salivating dogs.