A phenomenal whisky packing powerful peaty deliciousness, Ardbeg 10 Year Old is a favourite of many whisky lovers around the world. Produced on the Kildalton Coast of Islay, this single malt matures for a decade before being bottled without any chill-filtration. If you're after a whisky full of coastal air, smoke and more, this is exactly what you want.
A ridge of vanilla leads to mountain of peat capped with citrus fruits and circled by clouds of sea spray.
Sweet vanilla counterbalanced with lemon and lime followed by that surging Ardbeg smoke that we all know and love.
Long and glorious; sea salted caramel and beach bonfire smoke.
Precise balance, big smoke and non-chill filtered. This is why this is such a famous dram.
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 a 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 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, how I have been traversing expansive spots just to land in my easychair with this smoke laden, sweet, oaky and warm clove steeped liquid in hand… a journey indeed! As this opens up more within that air in my house, it introduces itself as a light pale coloured friend who has many more stories to tell as we go deeper into conversations. But for the moment, it urges me to fill my glass again for a few more escapades…
Of the big three. I think this may be my favourite. Lagavulin is fab of course, but a bit of a show-off. Laphroaig is too hospitally, but this is the perfect compromise. Very nice. Less blood and guts, and less blood and guts. Perfect.
Taste is very subjective. I haven't been able to ignore how disappointing this drop is. Medicinal, peaty smoke, char. I do not understand the appeal at all. There seems to be a challenge in accepting the flavours of this whisky that I'll never overcome and gladly so.
About 10 years ago, the first of the new 10yo came out, and I was bereft. Their was a hole where my heart used to be, as they'd killed my favourite whisky by taming it. Whatever this is, it's not Ardbeg, but a sanitised facsimile. To taste Ardbeg as it was, you'll need to buy Uigeadail (which is amazing). I'm sure objectively, this is nice, but all I can taste is loss, regret and pain.
Spiffing
