Ardbeg 10 - Review
Age: 10 years
Barrel type: Ex-bourbon
Region: Islay
ABV: 46%
Price: $50
Additional details: Non-chill filtered, natural color
Ardbeg, what an elixir! Ardbeg and its two closest neighbors on Islay, Lagavulin and Laphroaig, are something of an acquired taste (peaty scotch) within an acquired taste (scotch in general). But hell, have I acquired it. To be sure, peat, the most distinctive ingredient in these scotches, is not unique to Islay. But in its enthusiasm for peat -- and its determination to make smoky, earthy whiskies -- Islay is unmatched. Which makes it just about my favorite place in the world that I've never visited, an oversight I hope to remedy soon.
Rather than exhaustively describing the history of the distillery or its place in the contemporary scotch market, I figured I'd share a few interesting tidbits about Ardbeg.
First, there's a little bottle code at the bottom of every bottle that tells you the date when the liquid inside was distilled and when it was bottled. My bottle, for instance, is dated 17/05/2016 (May 17, 2016), which indicates that it must have been distilled in 2006 and bottled last year.
Second, Ardbeg gets the majority of its malted barley from Port Ellen. In fact, so do Laphroaig, Lagavulin, and Caol Ila up north. What this means is that most of the base ingredient in Ardbeg isn't all that different than Laphroaig or Lagavulin (although Ardbeg's barley is peated to 55 ppm, while Laphroaig is about 40-50, and Lagavulin and Caol Ila are both 35). It's fascinating to try all of these different whiskies side by side to remark on how they all started in more or less the same place but each reached a unique and lovely destination.
Third, Ardbeg has a fan club, and it's actually worth joining -- in part, because it's free! It's called the Ardbeg Committee, and it's the distillery's way of keeping up with one of the largest and most devoted followings in the community. I doubt one could find anything else in this world that would make people as excited to join a committee (although, who knows, there are PTA nuts in every neighborhood). One perk of membership is being able to order the so-called "Committee Releases" each year, which are special annual scotches that are released at higher-than-average ABVs and with some combination of fancy marketing and mythology to justify their high ($125+) price tags. Regardless of whether you're willing to drop that much on such a bottle, it can't hurt to be a Committee member. Google it, join it, love it.
Appearance: Because of the lack of added color, and the relatively young age of this scotch, it is a pale straw in the glass. The bottle is dark green, with a nice upraised logo along the side. The label is a bit old-fashioned in appearance and certainly boastful (touting Ardbeg as the "ultimate" Islay single-malt whisky), with some decorative accents that recall Scotland's Celtic origins.
Nose: The light color of this scotch belies a full-throated, heavy metal aesthetic -- heavy smoke and peat on the nose, which I can detect from several feet away, particularly in a glencairn glass. Just saying "smoke" doesn't really do Ardbeg justice, as its peat comes off as herbaceous at times, at other times almost reminiscent of loam, bacon, and cigar smoke. There's also a lighter note, akin to lemon zest, which does the yeoman's work of balancing that smoke out a bit.
If you're a cigar smoker, it is well worth trying scotches along with a cigar. The fun thing about combining certain sensory experiences (like wine and cheese, or cigars and whiskey) is that both constituent elements change, in a way that can enhance one's appreciation or understanding of both. I've heard people say that Ardbeg or Islay scotches in general have a seafood or fish-like note to them, and I had never picked up on it. But when I nosed Ardbeg after a few puffs of a Montecristo No. 4, the smoke from the scotch was no longer perceptible and that seafood scent dominated the glass. To be honest, I'm not a big seafood guy, so I'm going to stick to Ardbeg without a cigar in the future, but the transformation is undeniably fascinating!
Palate: I often vacillate between wanting consistency between nose and palate, or hoping for something unexpected and surprising. Ardbeg's best suited for when I'm looking for the former. The palate comes out strong with that earthy peat once again, but also with a strong salty streak to it, and again that sweet yet tangy counterpoint. It's a wonderful mixture of citrus acid, salt, and cigar smoke. It doesn't have much complexity, in the sense of transforming or developing new flavors as it shifts around the tongue, but what's there from the start is scintillating.
Finish: As I swallow, that burnt sweetness and a smattering of herbs and spices give way to a powerful toasted finish that balances spice, smoke, and salt. I again get an earthy peat mixed in with that sea spray, and some lighter woody accents at the end.
Value for Money and Final Impressions: Ardbeg 10 is Dragonstone in a glass. If it has a flaw, it's that the smoke is so consistently powerful that it may obscure some other, worthwhile flavors. It is not, by any stretch of the imagination, a subtle whisky, although I love it all the same. Oddly enough, for something owned by people who slap mind-boggling price tags on just about everything (LVMH), Ardbeg may represent the single best value in the scotch world today. And, best of all, it's available at pretty much any half-decent liquor store. A spectacular representative of the Islay style, and a permanent fixture on this scotch drinker's shelf.
Rating: A-