Bruichladdich's Octomore 17 series: Whisky, Smoke, Mirrors and the Art of Excess.
Four expressions, four interpretations of peat, and a rather persuasive argument that intensity need not come at the expense of intelligence. Bruichladdich's latest Octomore series explores what happens when barley, oak, time and smoke are allowed to disagree - occasionally rather beautifully.
There is something wonderfully impertinent about Octomore. At a time when much of the whisky world seems occupied with reassuring drinkers through heritage, age statements and carefully cultivated notions of rarity, Bruichladdich continues to ask a rather different question: What happens if we push things a little further?
The answer, depending on the expression, involves peat, oak, fruit, salt and enough alcohol to make a conventional whisky glass seem a little underqualified. The 17th series arrives in four distinct incarnations, with phenol levels ranging from 81 to 132.1 parts per million and strengths reaching 60.9 per cent ABV. These are impressive numbers, although numbers have never been particularly good at describing pleasure.
It is worth remembering that PPM measures the phenolic content of the malted barley, rather than the perceived smokiness of the finished whisky. Distillation and maturation have their own considerable influence. The real interest, therefore, is not simply how much peat has been used, but what the distillery has managed to make of it.
And here, Octomore becomes rather more interesting than its reputation for extremity might suggest. The 17 series is not a contest in smoke tolerance. It is an exploration of how a single malt can acquire four quite different personalities while retaining a recognisable sense of origin.
17.1: The virtue of knowing when to stop
Every series needs a point of reference, and 17.1 provides one with admirable clarity. Made from 100 per cent Scottish mainland Concerto barley, malted to 81 PPM and matured for five years in first-fill bourbon barrels, it is bottled at 59.7 per cent ABV.
There is no elaborate cask itinerary here, no attempt to introduce a dozen competing influences. The conversation is between spirit, peat and American oak, and it is conducted with surprising civility.
The nose opens with vanilla custard, toasted coconut and butterscotch, accompanied by citrus peel and green melon. A little Scottish tablet brings buttery sweetness, while floral barley notes and ginger provide some welcome lift. The smoke is initially restrained, more the remains of a beach bonfire than an industrial chimney, with a suggestion of salt carried in from the Atlantic.
On the palate, the texture is generous and almost creamy. Vanilla milkshake, pear drops and malt syrup are followed by warm custard tart, before the peat begins to gather momentum. Dry earth, charred oak and ash interrupt the sweetness, while maritime salinity brings everything back into focus.
The finish is long and mineral, with the sweetness gradually receding into smoke, salt and warm embers.
For a whisky of such considerable strength, 17.1 is remarkably assured. It understands that smoke is most interesting when there is something else to discover around it. A useful lesson in restraint, albeit delivered at 59.7 per cent.
17.2: The past is never entirely past
If 17.1 is an exercise in clarity, 17.2 is rather more interested in history. The same Scottish mainland Concerto barley and 81 PPM provide the starting point, but the cask journey takes an altogether different direction.
The spirit spends four years in second-fill French oak that previously held Californian red wine and bourbon, before finishing in first-fill Port barriques. It is a sequence of former lives that might sound like an unnecessarily complicated dinner-party introduction, but the resulting whisky has a convincing sense of purpose.
Raspberry and blackcurrant preserve lead the nose, joined by ripe stone fruit, Turkish Delight and a faint floral sweetness. Toasted oak, clove and aniseed introduce a darker register, while hints of leather and coastal iodine prevent the fruit from becoming too comfortable. The smoke is less immediately assertive than in 17.1, suggesting glowing wood rather than medicinal peat.
The palate is supple and richly textured. Wine-poached berries, strawberry and cassis mingle with barley sugars and dark syrup, before peppery peat and earthy smoke begin to assert themselves. Lemon zest and lime oils provide a welcome counterpoint, keeping the sweetness in check and lending the whisky a little tension.
The finish is persistent, with raisins, toasted oak and maritime salt eventually giving way to the familiar Octomore signature.
There is something appealing about the idea that a cask never quite forgets what it once contained. In 17.2, previous occupants leave their impressions without entirely dictating the conversation. It is an unusually successful exercise in inherited character.
17.3: A whisky with an address
The most compelling story in the series may belong to 17.3, if only because it begins somewhere unusually specific. Its Concerto barley comes exclusively from Irene's Field at Octomore Farm, just two miles from the distillery on Islay. One field, one harvest, one rather direct connection between the land and the spirit.
Malted to 132.1 PPM and bottled at 60.9 per cent ABV, it is the most heavily peated expression in the collection. Five years of maturation in first-fill bourbon and second-fill European oak, including Ribera del Duero, Sauternes, Eiswein and Syrah casks, add further complexity.
The nose is immediately coastal and elemental: Tar, sea spray, medicinal peat and weathered rope. Then something softer begins to emerge. Warm grain, fresh barley flour and brown sugar sit alongside green apple, pear, citrus and vanilla. Hints of marram grass and wildflowers provide a reminder that Islay is not simply a landscape of smoke and exposed rock.
On the roof of the mouth, the whisky is weighty and commanding. Salted caramel, smoked apple, toasted coconut and praline establish an initial sweetness, before a deep, ashy peat takes hold. Citrus oils and mineral salinity cut through the density, bringing definition to what might otherwise become an exercise in brute force. The barley remains present throughout, rather than disappearing beneath the peat and oak.
The finish is long, dry and savoury, with soft florals and malt sweetness gradually surrendering to maritime salt and persistent smoke.
The appeal of 17.3 extends beyond its phenolic credentials. In an industry that increasingly speaks of provenance, it offers something refreshingly tangible. Knowing the field, the farmer and the harvest gives the idea of terroir a little more substance. The romance is in the detail, not the marketing vocabulary.
17.4: Time has its own vocabulary
The final expression takes a more indulgent route. Made from Scottish mainland Concerto barley malted to 108.2 PPM, 17.4 was distilled in 2018 from the 2017 harvest and matured for seven years. Its journey begins in first-fill Oloroso casks before a finish in French virgin oak. Bottled at 57.2 per cent ABV, it is the oldest and least powerful by alcohol of the four.
Oloroso brings dried fruit, walnuts and warmth; virgin oak contributes spice, fresh wood and tannin. It is a combination with considerable potential for excess, although excess, as Octomore has repeatedly demonstrated, is not necessarily a problem when properly managed.
The nose opens with dried figs, toasted walnuts and gingerbread, followed by cinnamon bark, orange peel and cocoa. Beneath the sherried richness sits dry, mineral peat smoke, accompanied by a faint maritime quality.
On the palate, charred driftwood and ash give way to dates, fruitcake and caramelised brown sugar. Clove, nutmeg and roasted coffee develop alongside the oak, while a bright malty core prevents the richness from becoming overwhelming. Dark chocolate, leather and salted caramel add further depth, but the smoke remains the defining presence.
The finish is long and warming, with dried fruit and oak spice gradually retreating to leave peat, soft char and a lingering impression of the coast.
If the earlier expressions explore the possibilities of barley and cask, 17.4 makes a persuasive case for patience. Time has not removed the whisky's more unruly instincts; it has simply taught them some manners.
Summa summarum
Taken together, Octomore 17 is a reminder that intensity is not a personality. The four expressions share a common foundation, but their differences are considerable. The first finds elegance in simplicity, the second explores the accumulated character of casks, the third makes a compelling argument for agricultural provenance, and the fourth gives time and oak their opportunity to speak.
There is a temptation to regard whisky as a sum of its technical specifications. Age, alcohol, phenols, cask provenance: all useful information, but none particularly adept at explaining why one dram stays in the memory while another simply disappears.
Perhaps that is where Octomore is at its most interesting. It begins with excess but does not necessarily end there. Beneath the smoke is an appreciation of balance, beneath the strength an attention to texture, and beneath the theatrical numbers a rather serious interest in the character of the spirit.
The philosopher Gaston Bachelard devoted considerable attention to the imagination of fire, its capacity to suggest warmth, destruction, renewal and memory. There is something of that ambiguity in Octomore. Smoke can be abrasive or comforting, medicinal or sweet, elemental or almost delicate. Its character depends on what surrounds it.
The 17th series does not offer a definitive answer to the question of what heavily peated whisky should be. Happily, it seems to have little interest in providing one.
Instead, it offers four interpretations, each with its own merits and temperament. And perhaps that is enough. After all, there are already quite enough people in the world convinced they have found the one correct way to do things.
Octomore, at least, has the good sense to disagree.
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Words by AW.
Photo courtesy of Bruichladdich.
