Port Charlotte Islay Barley 2011

I had already consumed a small amount of Bowmore 18 and Talisker 10. I was occupied with a television show, not fully concentrating on my drink. My selection consisted entirely of peated single malts, as my intention was simple enjoyment without complexity, and I already knew my preference for these. A bit of history: I attended high school in the mid-90s but had a fondness for the 1950s, an unusual preference. However, a close friend was even more of a traditionalist. We both enjoyed early rock and roll, and my companion would express a desire to have lived in the 50s. My friend and I once took two young women out in a 1957 Chevrolet that we had somehow acquired for the summer. My friend was with the girl who would later become my high school sweetheart, and I was with her friend, a pretty blonde. That evening, the girl I was with was exceedingly irritating. She brought a stuffed bear and made it speak with a baby voice. My friend told her to cease that behavior, but she persisted. He then took the bear and tossed it out the car window. The girl became upset, started shouting, and hit his arm, but he refused to turn the car around. Neither of us achieved our desired outcome that night, but I gained favor with the girl by picking her up after the date and assisting her in locating the bear. Returning to the present, I was minding my own affairs, watching an excellent program, when I encountered the Port Charlotte. I poured a small measure and was slowly enjoying it, appreciating the atmosphere of a period drama set in the 1950s. Then, something in the conclusion of the Port Charlotte struck me, evoking memories of 1996. It was a musty sensation, akin to old car upholstery from a 1957 Chevrolet and an unfiltered Lucky Strike cigarette, though we didn't actually smoke them. We merely held them in our mouths out of imitation of a certain actor. Later, the day arrived when the girl I was dating ended our relationship. I bought two packs of Luckies and retreated to the basement of my friend's detached structure, which he had converted into a clandestine bar. It was adorned with velvet curtains and featured an old record player, along with eight-by-ten black and white glossy photographs of 1930s film stars. I sat down and lit a cigarette for the first and only occasion in my life. I still had not experienced any alcohol. I reasoned that if she no longer wanted me, I would proceed to smoke all of these cigarettes. Regardless, all of that feels like ancient history. Yet, something within this drink brought it all back, and the experience was entirely pleasant.

The Bottle: I admire this container. The green glass with grey/white/gold accents gives it a very "apothecary" feel. It feels substantial and looks good displayed. It includes useful information about the spirit and minimal marketing hype. In the Glass: Pale straw color. On the Nose: If you are familiar with Bruichladdich's standard offerings, you can immediately sense the heritage here. There's the barley sugar sweetness and some fruit notes within the peat. The peat here is more like Laphroaig's than Ardbeg's, meaning it's more mineral than smoky. Quite pleasant overall. From the aroma alone, you couldn't guess it's bottled at 50% ABV; there's no alcoholic bite or harshness. Taste: A sweet, measured entry with a strong peat development. Smoke appears on the finish, despite being absent from the nose. It doesn't finish excessively dry or astringent, which is common with many younger spirits. This is a very well-crafted expression; no single flavor dominates the others. A few drops of water won't harm it, but be cautious as the subtleties could easily be overwhelmed. Overall, this is an excellent peated offering from Islay. It's the charming neighbor to the robust expressions from Ardbeg and Laphroaig. Definitely worth exploring.

I'm fully aware that batting third in the order can have unforeseen drawbacks. However, I enjoy heavily peated Islay malts so much that I was confident any dram marketed as "heavily peated" could withstand my somewhat dulled palate and mild intoxication. Let's imagine we are Basset Hounds. What's better than a damp, old brown leather shoe? Nothing! Its aroma draws us to our owner's closet. Being a mischievous pup, I grab it by the laces, take it to the master bedroom, and start chewing. I immediately realize my owner must have worn these shoes while mowing the lawn. There's a hint of sweetness. Perhaps the owner's child dropped a roasted marshmallow on the lawn after a bonfire and the owner stepped on it while cutting the grass. But I'm not complaining. My lazy owner waited too long to mow, and the grass has gone to seed. I can taste a bit of that grain. Now I realize he also spilled some lighter fluid on his shoes while attempting to start the fire. And that's the best part. What a fantastic shoe. I can't fathom why humans don't understand our love for chewing on them. They just get better and better with every step the owner took through various substances over seven years.

The short legs suggest its youth, with small droplets remaining in the glass after swirling. I've missed Islay malts during a mountain retreat surrounded by bourbon enthusiasts. The aroma is wonderful and spot-on: campfire, salt, and sea, just as expected from Bruichladdich's PC line. Knowing all the barley is sourced from Islay is fantastic. While my palate isn't sophisticated enough to discern specific nuances, the 'Terroir Matters' philosophy is admirable and gives them a craft microbrewery feel. The taste is classic, best described as sea and salt, evoking images of the North Atlantic, similar to the Maine coast but with peat. Perhaps pairing it with lobster would be fitting, though it might be too much Maine. Importantly, there's no harshness – though I have been drinking a lot of cask strength lately, which might affect my perception. The finish is long and smooth, with a salty sweetness that lingers behind my teeth for minutes. It's truly exceptional.

After opening this bottle a few days ago, I revisited it today with a companion. Perhaps it's the company, but it's even better now. Beyond my initial thoughts, the palate is incredibly sweet, likely from honey, with a subtle citrus note I didn't detect initially. I'll revise my notes... the level of burn for a young whiskey at this proof is surprisingly low. I've had many barrel-proof bourbons with more bite. The 8-year Lagavulin, despite a lower alcohol content and longer barrel age, was much harsher. This is smooth and sweet (apparently) while being a peat powerhouse. After finishing my glass, my partner walked by the empty glass later and visibly recoiled. When I asked why, she simply said "smoky!" Couldn't have described it better!

So, this is not the 2011 version that was reviewed; I sampled the 2012. 50% ABV Nose - oily, burnt caramel, toasted marshmallow, the peat is present but not overpowering—I'd rate it moderate, much less than Laphroaig/Ardbeg—and earthy. A friend noted formaldehyde and an anatomy lab from around 2014. Taste - a light initial taste, followed by a hit of peat, meaty, with a hint of bitter chocolate. Finish - a long, meaty finish, with some creamy maltiness. The peat lingers in the throat, with a slight burn. Score - 4.0 Scoring Guide 5.0 - Outstanding, unparalleled. 4.5 - Excellent, I would always keep a bottle in stock if possible. 4.0 - Very good, quite enjoyable to drink, a solid choice. 3.5 - Good, would taste again. 3.0 - Average. 2.5 - Acceptable, still drinkable. 2.0 - Inferior, able to drink but not enjoyable. 1.5 and below — wouldn't drink again unless desperate.