Even in the driving rain, the Isle of Islay is a heart-stoppingly beautiful spot. High in the hills behind the Bruichladdich distillery, there are sweeping views east across Loch Indaal, and I fancied I could just about pinpoint Bowmore distillery across the foaming grey waters. The wind was gusting, the sheep were bleating, the geese were honking: it was wild, magnificent and dramatic.
The lure of Bruichladdich was too strong, however, and moments later I was in the warmth of the distillery shop itself, getting a dram of the Laddie Valinch, a limited edition release available only in the shop. The 22-year-old, matured in a former bourbon cask for 18 years and then a former sherry cask for four, was invigorating. It was 50.7 per cent and I prudently added water.
It was a delicious dram, fruity and sweet with stacks of colour and plenty of leather, chocolate, raisins, spice and — I don’t know — candied orange peel maybe. One thing it wasn’t, though, was peaty. As we all know, Islay malts are peaty. You know, like Lagavulin, Laphroaig and Ardbeg.
Except they’re not. Yes, the varied releases from Lagavulin and co. do indeed tend to be full of smoky notes, saltiness and iodine, but — despite the island being a magnet for so-called peat freaks — that doesn’t mean the rest are peaty too.
Indeed, Bruichladdich’s signature malt, the Classic Laddie, is light, delicate, honeyed and zesty. It’s an aperitif whisky, as far removed from the fabled Islay peat monsters as it’s possible to be. I loved it. But then I loved the distillery’s peated Port Charlotte offerings too, especially the 2007 matured in former cognac casks. Only the charms of Octomore eluded me. I found it just too overwhelmingly medicinal.
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