Ardbeg 17 - A Phoenix Risen From Peaty Ashes.

Ardbeg has never done things by halves. It doesn’t just release whisky - it crafts sagas. For 25 years, its Committee has been less a mailing list and more a global congregation of 200,000 diehards - the sort who debate cask strength with the intensity of medieval theologians and treat each new release as both ritual and revelation. Membership is not casual - it is a badge of obsession, a lifelong subscription to the pursuit of peat perfection.

When the stills fell silent in the 1980s, it wasn’t corporate strategy that kept the embers glowing - it was the obsessives. The ones who refused to let Ardbeg be written off, who whispered to one another that the smoke would rise again. And rise it did. By the mid-1990s, Glenmorangie had revived the distillery, and one of the first fruits of that resurrection was the now-legendary Ardbeg 17 Years Old - a whisky that would quietly redefine what it meant to be an Islay classic.

Some legends roar. This one smoulders, disappears, then strolls back in as if it never left.

The Ardbeg 17 is not merely a whisky - it is a smoky phoenix rising from the peat-laden hearths of Islay. Retired in the late 1990s, it now returns, tempered by time yet defiantly untamed - a dram that whispers secrets of history, ambition, and rebellion with every pour.

Its return has been decades in the making, overseen by the meticulous eye of Dr Bill Lumsden, Master Distiller. Every choice reflects a reverence for the original - from retracing flavour notes to bottling at the 40% strength of its first incarnation. The 17-year-old became a quiet saviour, revealing a softer, more refined side of Ardbeg without betraying the peat that defines it. Its disappearance only enhanced its mystique - a limited, ephemeral gem that inspired whispers, speculation, and ultimately, celebration when it returned. Some legends, when lost, become irresistible.

In the glass, the 17 glows with a golden warmth reminiscent of embers lingering long after a seaside bonfire has died down. On the nose, past and present converse in smoky, honeyed dialogue: soft peat curl embraces vanilla cream, weathered leather, and the fleeting zest of a coastal sunset. One can imagine an old sea captain returning from distant horizons, his coat still redolent of brine and untold stories - each inhalation a turning page from a weathered journal, a quiet testament to Islay’s misty shores.

The first sip is revelation incarnate: a wilder Ardbeg tempered by elegance. The peat, once a tempestuous rogue, prowls with the grace of a panther through candlelit ruins. Honeyed barley melds seamlessly with salted caramel, while fleeting notes of white pepper, tobacco, and orchard fruits - windblown apples caught between smoke and sea - layer the experience with intrigue and reward the curious. This is a dram that teases, seduces, and dares the drinker to explore its hidden corners.

The finish lingers like a haunting melody, a final embrace that refuses to let go. Smoked almonds, dark chocolate, and the ghost of bonfire embers entwine in a farewell that is at once elegant and insistent, leaving one suspended between memory and the present moment.

The revival of Ardbeg 17 is more than a return - it is a triumph of craft, patience, and audacity. It is the whisky equivalent of discovering a lost manuscript from a favourite poet, only to find it has matured into something even more profound than you imagined. A collector’s jewel, a storyteller’s muse, and a testament to the art of time itself, Ardbeg 17 proves that some legends never truly die - they evolve, emerging from shadow richer, deeper, and unapologetically magnificent.

This is whisky with personality, history, and attitude - a dram that doesn’t just sit on a shelf, but sparks conversation, envy, and admiration in equal measure. It is Ardbeg at its most unrepentantly self-assured, a masterclass in the art of making absence feel like longing and return feel like revelation.

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Words by AW.

Photos courtesy of Ardbeg / LVMH.