I’m taking a long walk up a short volcano. My best crocodile bluchers sink into the still-soft lava and my charcoal suit is … getting extra charcoally. This is a serious whisky for serious moments. The nose is dragon tears whipped into a yogurt. There are a few crumpled bills of devalued currency lifting the handle on a coal scuttle. Then a corkscrew twisted deeply into a shiny purple calf’s liver. Someone, I think to myself, is trying to send a message.
The mouth is super silky, sweet, and peaty. It’s the base of clarified peat-essence bitters used to bake peat biscuits with morel gravy. I could live in a bothy heated by this! Or, come to think of it, an unheated bothy with several bottles of Supernova would do me just as well. Oysters grilled over a Yule log, and then handed out to children who expected, you know, real gifts, but are so well raised that they say thank you and suppress their sullen faces.
On the finish, I come back to the delicious refinement that is question-beggingly described as “Ardbegian.” What it lacks in complexity it makes up for in elegance. Consider a benzene compound in comparison to a double helix. It would be the baddest-ass penicillin of all time. It’s like Amoxicillin, but it cures politically-transmitted strains of logorrhea.
On the scale of men’s dress shoes–
The Ardbeg Supernova 2015 is wingtip bluchers–Not the dressiest footwear, by any means, but it will make a statement. Just be aware that “the man who wears wing-tips more than weekly risks having them integrated into his reputation.”
–Our thanks to David Blackmore and Ardbeg for the sample!