[for the purist amongst you, smoke and peat are used interchangeably] Of the Islay peats, Lagavulin's, for me, is the hardest to describe. It is unlike, for example, either of its two closest neighbouring distilleries. Laphroaig's is pungent, briny and medicinal, Ardbeg's is pungent, briny, and tarty. Lagavulin 16 on the nose is a sweet smelling kind of smoke, neither pungent nor timid; the closest I can come to a description is the smell of roasting marshmallows over a gentle pinewood campfire, only you're not camped in a forest clearing or next to fresh water, but rather at a pebbled beach - there's a bit of a swell and those sweet campfire aromas blend in with the fresh brine in the air mixed with the old smell of the sea coming off the pebbles. And somewhere not that far away, someone is smoking an aromatic pipe! Take away the peat and this whisky might just give Speyside's sherry-casked bottlings a run for their money. As it stands, peat and all, the mouthfeel is oily and velvety, the palate full of smoked goodness. The rich arrival is that of sweet stewed fruits, dusted with grains of salt. Mid-palate and umami takes over from sweetness; flavours of a savoury peat, impressions of a blend of soy, oyster and fish sauce. Campfire grill gives way to more sweetness at the back of the mouth, in turn followed by a cameo of peppermint nothingness. The finish is long and luxuriant - smoked and salted nuts, and a ghost of a peppery note to round it all off. Ron Swanson was never wrong!