Aristocrat of the Islays
A good single malt Scotch should evoke images of misty, untamed fields cut by bubbling, chilly streams grappling around moss covered rocks. Lagavulin is such a drink. I'm swirling it under my nose [with one hand, and typing with one hand], punched by the heady, wooden aroma clinging to my nose. I chew on clear overtones of a smouldering woodpile behind a rain-soaked, stacked-stone house. I can smell the earthy, leathery, damp valley. Low wisps of smoking peat and apparitions of charred oak sneak in the shadows.
The striking absence of prima facie sweetness allows all these images to project through, then it slowly reveals itself as the smoky landscape retreats to the background. The aroma itself is intoxicating. I haven't had a sip yet, but the complexities have already revealed themselves. It also reflects deep suede in color, tantalizingly clear, as if all other liquors were murky and stagnant.
Earthy, earthy, earthy. Take a chunk of Scotland and bottle it. It drinks with a warm serenity of a drizzling Scottish winter evening. Once it hits the tongue, the sweetness is paradoxically up front and quickly dissipates to uncover the earthtones huddling behind it. This gives Lagavulin an inverse relationship between aroma and taste, thereby extending the experience of each sip.
It is a full minute later, and I still have the tingling linger of damp wood on my tongue. It reminds me of a rainy camping trip.
There is no bite, no burn. Lagavulin is distilled from the waters of Solum Lochs on the Isle of Islay. Islay enjoys milder weather than most of Scotland because of the Gulf Stream.
In fact, to confirm my description, I went to their website. Here is what I found after I wrote the above.
"Lagavulin has been described as the aristocrat of Islays. It has an unmistakable, powerful, peat-smoke aroma. Described as being robustly full bodied, well-balanced and smooth with a slight sweetness on the palate."
Perfect. I'm not full of crap.
The striking absence of prima facie sweetness allows all these images to project through, then it slowly reveals itself as the smoky landscape retreats to the background. The aroma itself is intoxicating. I haven't had a sip yet, but the complexities have already revealed themselves. It also reflects deep suede in color, tantalizingly clear, as if all other liquors were murky and stagnant.
Earthy, earthy, earthy. Take a chunk of Scotland and bottle it. It drinks with a warm serenity of a drizzling Scottish winter evening. Once it hits the tongue, the sweetness is paradoxically up front and quickly dissipates to uncover the earthtones huddling behind it. This gives Lagavulin an inverse relationship between aroma and taste, thereby extending the experience of each sip.
It is a full minute later, and I still have the tingling linger of damp wood on my tongue. It reminds me of a rainy camping trip.
There is no bite, no burn. Lagavulin is distilled from the waters of Solum Lochs on the Isle of Islay. Islay enjoys milder weather than most of Scotland because of the Gulf Stream.
In fact, to confirm my description, I went to their website. Here is what I found after I wrote the above.
"Lagavulin has been described as the aristocrat of Islays. It has an unmistakable, powerful, peat-smoke aroma. Described as being robustly full bodied, well-balanced and smooth with a slight sweetness on the palate."
Perfect. I'm not full of crap.
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