Well, in the hotel room, really, but the stars are out, tonight, to a degree that induces vertigo. And yes, one can see the Milky Way. That is normal, since this is the USA. It is commercialised as Mars in Europe, as Milky Way in the US. Used to, at least. Both are now found in Europe. Not sure if the recipe is different.
Nose: bacon, burning hay and hot ink, poured into the flames. Behind that, charcoal, peaches, scorched earth, barbecued citrus and a medicinal touch: bandages and disinfectant. Laphroaig? Mouth: thick citrus, with grapefruit pulp and pineapple chunks, but also mango in syrup (the syrup easily dominates the fruit), as well as a distant note of merbromin. Heat: yes; peat: not so much. Green-chilli chutney keeps the tongue well warm, and it is augmented with a pinch of nigella seeds. Sweet and spicy alright. Finish: the peat comes back, rich and hot, yet it completely fails to mask the fruit: ripe satsuma and mango in pineapple juice happily float on a bed of gentle, boggy peat. Only a few drops of tincture of iodine hark back to the medicinal side. Whoever the hospital patient is, they clearly received a fruit basket as a get-well-soon present. I guess a Laphroaig. A fruity one, at that. I am wrong, of course. Ledaig 15yo 1997/2013 (51.9%, The Whiskyman Age Matters) 8/10 (Thanks for the sample, Gaija)
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