Ardbeg Kelpie (Committee Release) - Review
Age: No age statement
Barrel type: ex-bourbon barrels and Black Sea oak barrels from the Republic of Adygea (Adyghe)
Region: Islay
ABV: 51.7%
Price: $150+
Additional details: non-chill filtered, natural color
Ardbeg Kelpie is Ardbeg's 2017 limited edition, and there are a lot of interesting tidbits to share about this scotch.
For one thing, what's a Kelpie? Apparently, it's a mythological water creature that takes the form of a horse while in the water, but a man outside of it. The kelpie seduces the wives of sailors before drowning them in the ocean. In fact, there's even a poem about it titled The Kelpie of Corryvreckan, which links the name of this bottle with the third and highest-priced of Ardbeg's regular releases. The poem warns fair lasses to avoid "trysting" with a kelpie, lest he bring her to "the dark sea-shore" and sink her "twice five hundred fathoms deep." I suppose this makes the painting up top a bit inaccurate in its depiction of the kelpie.
Also, what is the Republic of Adygea, and what is this fabled Black Sea oak? No one knows much about the wood itself, but Adygea (or the Adyghe Republic) is a subject state within the Russian Federation. To be honest, the reference to this special type of wood seems kind of like last year's invocation of "dark sherry" casks, which also lent Dark Cove an aura of mystery that seemed to be more marketing artifice rather than a genuine innovation in technique. That being said, as I'll discuss below, the wood itself has imparted some highly unusual characteristics to this dram.
Finally, I'm amused by the decision to bottle this scotch at 51.7%, which seems like a playful tweak of Ardbeg's close neighbor and rival, Laphroaig. For the last few years, Laphroaig's annual limited Cairdeas releases have been bottled at ABVs where the last two digits represent the year (e.g., 51.6% for 2016's Madeira Cask version). Ironically, Laphroaig itself broke from this pattern this year by introducing a cask strength edition of its popular Quarter Cask expression. Thus, Ardbeg's Kelpie stands alone in representing the year 2017 in its ABV.
I haven't seen this limited release anywhere in Miami and didn't expect to review it, but then picked up a sample from a generous friend. Thank you for the chance to try this one-of-a-kind scotch!
Appearance: This is a sample review, so I can't comment fully on the bottle. From the images I've seen, however, I love the playful seaweed motif. In the glass, Kelpie is a shade or two darker than Ardbeg 10, more of a Sauvignon Blanc color.
Nose: Just as the kelpie is a shapeshifter, taking the form of a horse in the water but a strapping lad on land, this whisky's nose is complex and ever-changing. The peat here is of the woody variety, but it smells like wood that's been baking in the sun or right before it catches fire. It's a dry, resinous scent. The nose also has some of the pungency of oil at times, yet at other times seems floral. Occasionally, it hits a classic combination of peat and brine that reminds me of Laphroaig's 2015 Cairdeas expression.
All of a sudden, after getting used to all of these scents, something different emerges. There is a sweet and sour note that I can't identify. It is not like the fresh citrus that I detect in Ardbeg 10, it has a more artificial mien. To borrow a fun word I picked up in reading about scotch, Kelpie also exhibits a hint of petrichor (the smell that comes with rain, like wet gravel or earth). And I'm not done yet! There is an occasional whiff of charred meat, like the smoke ring of a brisket. Last but not least, on every third or fourth whiff I get a smell that's a dead ringer for a big bucket of pretzels. I mean one of those mega-tubs of thin, dry, salty pretzel sticks that college RAs sometimes have in their dorms as a snack for their kids.
Palate: The entry is akin to a richer, more buttery, oilier version of Ardbeg 10, with a tart but darker sweetness than its lighter cousin. The oily texture is characteristic of Ardbeg at higher ABVs. There is plenty of peat in the palate as well, but it's a mellow peat, and the wood backbone is of the pine variety. There's also a slight pungency in the whisky that I can't place. Like the nose, the palate is complex and shifts after a second or two in the mouth. It grows very salty and briney, and perhaps is the saltiest scotch I've had to date. There is that dry, slightly chalky, salty taste that recalls the pretzels I detected on the nose, combined with a lavender-infused honey which is the most pleasant aspect of the palate. The combination of salt, some spice, and savory richness toward the end is almost like a sausage. I can't identify any other whisky that pieces together so many unexpected, sometimes brilliant, sometimes discordant combinations.
Finish: Kelpie has a warm and salty conclusion, featuring licorice and anise sweetness and a long-lasting medicinal quality that wasn't as noticeable at the start. The peppery quality of this type of oak also stands out to me here, but the salt remains the dominant aspect of this stage.
Value for Money and Final Impressions: Imagine buying a meal at a German restaurant and then stirring some of the key ingredients -- pretzels, bratwurst -- into a glass of Ardbeg 10. It'd get a little saltier, a little funkier, a little oilier, a little meatier, and a bit darker in color. That's my impression of Kelpie. It is a strange, sometimes fascinating, sometimes just plain odd combination of flavors. I am glad I tried it, and very grateful to the friend who kindly sent me a sample, but there's too much salt for it to land right in my wheelhouse.
My suspicion is that this release is similar to Buffalo Trace's experimental collection. Ardbeg tried something different, with a type of wood not used much (if at all) in scotch aging. The result was interesting enough to be worth bottling, especially with the knowledge that the distillery's diehard fans always would buy out a Committee Release. But I'm not sure that I love the idea of being a guinea pig for these kinds of prices.
Rating: B-