Hungry Hippo

I've recently tasted an unforgettable scotch. I'm still not sure if I really liked it or just sort of enjoyed it, but I've been thinking about it far more than I ever have about any other scotch I've sampled.

I do like my scotch. I'm usually grumpy and miserably cold in the winter, and I learned to battle my internal chill by having a little nip of whiskey when I've gone out into the frosty winter nights. Again, one of the many things useful things I learned in Montreal while doing my undergrad studies. So when I was offered to try Brian's new single malt scotch, I couldn't say no (plus it was Chinese New Year's Eve...I had to represent).

We cracked open his bottle of Laphroaig 10 Year Old. Before even approaching my lips, I noticed the pungent smoky-medicinal smell of the whiskey. I drank it neat, with a glass of water on the side. I tasted it's charred, caveman-like flavour and immediately sat up. I mean that it literally tasted like a bearskin-clad caveman, had he have rolled around in his charcoal-y firepit. I imagine that this would be the equivalent of licking burnt wood which has been coated with the essence of a sweaty, musky, wet animal. Normally, drinking scotch gives the sensation of having leather and warm velvet(the low-shag variety) in the mouth, and sometimes, depending on the scotch, with a hint of cigar smoke. Not when drinking this particular 10 year old--it was more akin to having a group of hyperactive preadolescent boys attempting to play speed metal on aluminium garbage cans inside my mouth--I felt like it was all over the place and slightly overwhelming. Basically, this scotch demanded your attention, and continued to beg for it as it left an aftertaste of burning wood.

Upon closer inspection of the information booklet included with the Laphroaig scotch, we found that the intense smokiness can be attributed to the blue peat smoke that is used to dry the malted barley. This peat is only found on the "remote island of Islay in the Western Isles of Scotland". The Laphroaig distillery also produces a 15 year old whiskey that has been described as the older, sophisticated brother of the 10 year old--without all the sharp angles of the younger scotch. This is one 15 year old that I'd like to meet.

The highlight of the Laphroaig booklet, however, was the information on how to join their "Friends of Laphroaig" club. As a member, you instantly get a plot of land in Islay. And every year, if you visit the distillery, you receive a dram of whiskey from them as rent for your land (what is a dram?). Visits from land owners are encouraged, as you then get to identify your plot. To do so, you are loaned "size 12 wellingtons, headgear against low flying geese, a hip flask of Laphroaig whiskey, a life belt and an anchor: on the breeziest of days we wouldn't want you blown out to sea." The idea of wearing oversized, rental rubber boots, fending myself from sadistic geese, and trying to prevent myself from drowning in the sea sounds kinda fun. It sort of reminds me of a mini-quest from the Legend of Zelda games. Except here I'd get some smoky-ass whiskey instead of magical elixir.
Photographs courtesy of Brian. Thanks!