04/10/2021 Lagavulin

Lagavulin Triple Matured 1991/2015 (59.9%, OB bottled especially to celebrate Fèis Ìle 2015, American Oak/Pedro Ximénez & Oak Puncheons, 3500b, b#991, L5079DQ000 50251395): nose: just like the Port Charlotte last week, this peaty, sherried beast feels much more to my liking than it did at the end of a line-up, a couple of weeks ago. It goes to show context is very important! The nose rolls out hot lingonberry compote, cold tobacco and ash, then suddenly becomes rather petrolic, showcasing marine fuel, kerosene, and the beach, after a black tide (or so I imagine, at least: never experienced a black tide, hopefully never will). Talking about the beach, it develops a soft coastal influence, with whelks, fishing nets and dark sands -- oh! yes, the fuel notes are still well present; if anything, they grow in intensity. To a point, it smells like a piece of chocolate cherry cake dunked into a bowl of diesel: the Oloroso has given this a touch of earthy chocolate and some juicy red-fruit coulis, but the strong, gasoline-like spirit has a stranglehold on them. Fifteen minutes in, the nose seems a notch dryer, with scorched earth and mud crust. The second nose adds crayon shavings to the equation, somewhat reinforcing that dryness, whilst  keeping in touch with its diesel-y profile. Water opens up the nose dramatically and gives it the elegance of an ancient bottling (OBE, in other words). Warm marmalade (henceforth known as warmalade), dusty boiler rooms and ship engines, lichen on corroded oil barrels and silt. What a pleasant surprise! Mouth: ooft! Is this big or what? It is a dry-peat fire, really -- lively, dry and hot. The lingonberry compote is now so hot it burns the palate (also, it could well be cranberry compote, after all), the whelks are steamed, then smoked (they are also gorged with petrol) and, quite frankly and despite the oily texture, the whole feels like chewing on tarry sand. The second sip suggests a tarry rope, covered in red-fruit jam (strawberry) and baked in the oven. It also reveals something more root-y that hints at liquorice. This mouth is fierce and concentrated like peppermint, even if the taste is not exactly the same. With water, the palate turns much fruitier, and we have sliced apricots, bathing in a jerry-can of diesel. There is also a drop of water from a week-old flower vase, but it is discreet. Finish: it is powerful, yet it is not the immediate slap in the throat one would have been entitled to expect. Instead, it seems velvety like warm corduroy on the way down. Once it hits the stomach, however, it radiates like a uranium bar, making the whole body warm and not a little fuzzy. Beside that feeling, what is surprising is the note of decaying vegetation that permeates the expected petrolic profile: here, we have all sorts of algae, rotting lichens, but also silt. This has stagnant water and peat bogs written all over its finish, which is strange, seeing as the tongue is left dry, throbbing for water. Seriously, with all that silt and vase water, the most accurate comparison I can make is with this whacky thing from Tyrone, but at twice the ABV. There is even smoky mint lozenges and hot embers, towards the death. Water swaps that for cold coffee (served in a clear brown glass bowl) and diesel -- lots of diesel. Finally, the silt returns, as do algae and dredging sediment, yet they are much more subtle in the reduced finish. It is no longer drying, on the other hand. The nose and palate benefitted from water; the finish, I am not so sure. Impressive. It feels much less monolithic, when trying it with a fresh palate. I can see this garnering high scores from aficionados of such a profile. 8/10 (Thanks for the dram, OB)