Laphroaig Triple Wood

Ah, old friend: you've got sophisticated


And so winter draws ever closer - and with it, frosty mornings and peaty fires.

Evenings lose much of their warm, comforting charm and those lighter, more playful malts that may have been enjoyed on the balcony, watching the final embers of the sun fade over the horizon, may be consigned to the back of the cupboard in favour of something a bit more warming.

By some coincidence, today's post brought a package of a certain size; the sort of size that my colleagues now recognise. Today's package brought momentary confusion as I wasn't expecting anything, but a moment's reflection dredged from the depths of the memory the recollection of what it was that I held.

About ten days back, I'd received an email from Laphroaig, offering to their 'Friends' the second batch of 400 bottles of their Triple Wood. I'd received the email whilst under the influence of a single malt; had briefly weighed up the pros (several) and cons (few); and been thankful that I don't need to reach for my wallet to remember the important numbers.

This was something originally intended for Duty Free shops, but had been re-allocated to be sold to those who've entrusted their details to Laphroaig. The Duty Free connection has something of a bonus that this is a whole litre, which - at £49.50 - represents very decent value for something produced in such small numbers, indeed not much more than a barrel's worth.

The Triple Wood is a slightly strange beast: matured first in Bourbon refills; then in Oak Quarter Casks; and finally in large butts that previously contained Oloroso sherry. In effect, it's a sherry-finished version of the Quarter Cask, non-chill filtered and bottled at 48%. 

So: what it is?

The brain gets the first vote, which is cast in favour of the peaty monster, albeit wearing a velvet glove. Peat, for sure; and a hint of something medicinal, twinged with something sweeter.

It's a pretty obvious conclusion and so staringly obvious that a tasting will merely confirm it. That, of course, is not the case. 

Tasting it blind might only cause confusion: there's strong evidence that it must hail from Islay, with enough phenols to narrow that down to the Laphroaig. Yet, there's a bit of doubt that lingers for long enough to put thoughts of... well, something as strange as Japan into the mind.

I wouldn't go so far as to accuse the nose of being disappointing, but whilst it may not live up to the strict traditions of the bog monsters of Laphroaig, they're still there. Albeit tamed a little and enhanced, perhaps, by something a bit sweeter.

The palate? Well, it's a Laphroaig: there's enough peat and - more crucially - enough phenol for this to be nothing else. Again, it's masked by a new-found sweetness and although it's perfectly balanced, it nevertheless asks questions of the taste that can't be quickly answered.

As it slips away, there's a definite smokiness, yet also embers of sweetness, just like those beautiful moments just after the sun has disappeared over the horizon. Yet, it's a warming finish, better suited to winter nights when the rain is pounding on the windows and the wind is probing down the chimney.

Overall: as is increasingly the case, this is more of a passing dragonfly than an ever-lasting rock. The 400 bottles are sold out and whilst some may appear for sale, in reality this is only a malt that you'll ever have the one bottle of. 

In a way, that suits it best: there's something unresolved about the flavours that might be best left that way. A happy memory of something that came and went; of something that was beautiful while it lasted; and of something that's a Laphroaig, yet not quite the original article.

A fine whisky, one for winter nights and one for reminiscing over - and ultimately for reminiscing about. Rating: 93/100


Postscript

Returning to where I started: a brief inspection of the cupboard this evening revealed three white stoppers, marking the first time that so many bottles of Laphroaig have shared the space. 

Whilst I wouldn't usually place the Laphroaig amongst my favourite single malts, I can't overlook the fact that it was a single bottle of it that started me along to road that brings me here.

As the evenings draw in and we head towards the winter, there could be many worse things to contemplate than a few Laphroaigs.