• • NOSE

    A burst of intense smoky fruit escapes into the atmosphere – peat infused with zesty lemon and lime, wrapped in waxy dark chocolate. Bold menthol and black pepper slice through the sweet smoke followed by tarry ropes and graphite. Savour the aroma of smoked fish and crispy bacon alongside green bell peppers, baked pineapple, and pear juice. Add water and an oceanic minerality brings a breath of cool, briny sea spray. Waxed lemon and lime follows with coal tar soap, beeswax, and herby pine woodlands. Toasted vanilla and sizzling cinnamon simmer with warm hazelnut and almond toffee.

  • PALATE

    An explosion of crackling peat sets off millions of flavour explosions: peat effervesces with tangy lemon and lime juice, black pepper pops with sizzling cinnamon-spiced toffee. Then comes a wave of brine infused with smooth buttermilk, ripe bananas, and currants. Smoke gradually wells up on the palate bringing a mouthful of warm creamy cappuccino and toasted marshmallows. As the taste lengthens and deepens, dry espresso, liquorice root, and tarry smoke develop coating the palate with chewy peat oils.

  • FINISH

    The finish goes on and on – long and smoky with tarry espresso, aniseed, toasted almonds, and traces of soft barley and fresh pear.

AWARDS

• WHISKY BIBLE AWARDS 2012: BEST SINGLE MALT SCOTCH OF THE YEAR, 10 YEARS AND UNDER.

Ardbeg Ten As you open this bottle for the first time - you conjure up thoughts of that hallowed peaty profile. You pour a little after a nice pop, and draw yourself to the top of the glen, trying to take in the first whiff.

Boom - you are standing near a salty water body, maybe an ocean whipping against large and small black rocks, but it’s night and you can’t see very far in the ocean. There’s a small fire behind you. Meat and a few more essential fats (largely exaggerated stories told by the pack of pals you willingly don’t let go and some bacon) are being slowly turned over these flames and you can smell the promise of smoky, succulent, and almost sweet deliciousness.

The air is kind of rare, neutral and though the night is not cold, the fire gives out a familiar warmth. You go in again, bringing it up for another whiff and a taste. The earthiness pops up and makes you feel the peated edges beneath your feet and then it carries you to another zone. The room now is an old regal leather & wood covered library, the high back chesterfield is overused and more beautiful than before - the leather-bound books have been resting well, but the oiliness creeps in through your nostrils and reaches your taste buds.

It’s sharp and you feel like you bit into something unique. It’s fresh with its crispness, yet familiar with its varnish-like feel. The wooden racks on the wall are now smiling back at you - hinting at how they blended the leather wraps of the book with their faded inner oak. You take in a little more - excited for it to unravel new chapters. It stops, where did it go, I can’t feel it behind my throat, just the hum of milk-soaked cereal after it’s gone. The nose plunges again.

The smoky meaty umami is still there and it’s promising a more delicate and warm note ahead. What could it be? A little liquorice? A whole lot of warming spices? Maybe. But it’s also that kind of deep clove-infused aqua that I have sometimes. It’s sweet and warm at the same time. It’s wonderful!