Laphroaig 15 Year
My introduction to scotch was a Caol Ila 12 year old, to this day one of my favorite whiskies for its singular smokiness. I remember being stunned by the brine and smoke, and having difficulty figuring out exactly what it was that I was drinking. Before long I’d worked my way across the spectrum of Islay whiskies, reveling in the smoky beauty of Laphroaig, Lagavulin, Caol Ila, Ardbeg, and Bowmore.
I stayed “on the island” for quite a long time. I was so enamored with smoky whiskies that it was ages before I really began to appreciate other types of scotch. Yes, my scotch horizons were limited, but you’ve got to admit that some pretty incredible whiskies are distilled on that island.
As time passed I began to appreciate the subtle differences in the smoky whiskies produced on Islay. On the one hand you have the briny smokiness of a Caol Ila, on the other the naked, straight-out-of-the-fire smokiness of an Ardbeg. There’s the ribald smokiness of a Lagavulin, and the restrained, fiery beach-wood smoke of a Bowmore. And then there’s Laphroaig, whose smoke is wholly singular, a remarkable expression of smoldering, centuries old peat. You may at times be able to confuse the smokiness of a Lagavulin with a Bowmore, but you could never confuse the smokiness of a Laphroaig with any other whisky.
Why is that? I suppose there are any number of reasons that you could point to – the peat they use, the fact that Laphroaig is one of the few distilleries still producing some of their own malt, the way they distill their whisky. But in the end, no one really knows for sure. What it comes right down to is being willing to simply accept that there is something unique taking place when Laphroaig whisky is created that imparts this most astonishing smokiness.
A friend of mine once described Laphroaig whisky as akin to stuffing a wad of peat in your mouth. I’d have to concur with this, there is something entirely unique that takes place when you plunge into a dram of Laphroaig. The smoke slowly rises out of the glass, filling first your nostrils, then the room your in. It gets into your clothes, and I swear it leaves an imprint on your senses, leaving you with a lingering memory after you reach the bottom of the glass.
But what’s best about Laphroaig is that it isn’t all about the smoke. Yes, the smokiness is astonishing and unique, but it is coupled with layers of other flavors that can – depending on the age of the whisky you’re drinking – actually cause the smoke to play a secondary role. I’ve been lucky enough to try the Laphroaig 30-year on a handful of occasions and can say, without hesitation, that this is one of the most amazing whiskies I’ve ever drunk. The smoke is more subdued, an ethereal element layered amidst a plethora of other flavors. In many ways, this to me was the ultimate expression of Laphroaig, demonstrating just how dynamic a role the smoke can play.
So in the end, I do think Laphroaig is defined by its smoke, much as I think other of the Islay whiskies are uniquely defined by their unique smokiness (Ardbeg and Lagavulin most prominently so). But Laphroaig is much more than just its smoke, there’s something else, something intangible that it expresses.
Yikes! This post is turning into some sort of homage to Laphroaig, which is not really what I’m aiming for. Instead, it’s really an homage to how smoke is never the same from whisky to whisky, and may well be the most romantic and remarkable flavor that any whisky exhibits. Only a few whiskies in the world really embrace smoke as a principal flavor component, and in only a fraction of them does the smoke really define that whisky, smelling and tasting like no other smoke you’ll find in another whisky.
The Laphroaig 15 year has always been one of my favorite Laphroaig expressions. It’s left behind the brash, raw smoke of youth and begun to segway into the more restrained, well-balanced smokiness of middle-age. It’s bottled at 43%, and so retains some of the explosive flavor that you’ll find in cask-strength versions.
The 15-year pours gold with a lightly coppered tinge. The nose is dominated by smoke - that peculiarly specific Laphroaig smoke – , accompanied by mint, red berryish fruit, and a hint of butterscotch. The palate is a mouthfull of peat to begin with – a rich, elemental combination of smoke and earth – accompanied by an undercurrent of sweet poached pears, apple and cranberry pie, and crushed mint. Smoke is again dominant on the finish, accompanied by apples and pears and a fine layer of citrus.
A great, classic, go-to whisky, the perfect bridge between the younger 10 year and the older, 25 or 30 year bottlings. What fun it would be to taste through the range, kicking off with the Quarter Cask, making your way to the 10 year and then the 10 year cask-strength, moving on to the 15, the 18, the 25…the 30.
Problem is, that 30 year stole my heart away, and left me with a taste for older, well-aged Laphroaigs. I’m jaded, prevented from fully appreciating such a fine whisky as this 15 year by my dallies with its older siblings. Whither my smoky palate?!
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