Ardbeg Supernova 2010 vs Octomore 2.1

Ardbeg Supernova - the extreme model from the maker of serious peat monsters. I miss a lot of Ardbeg special releases, sadly. They are all good and many are excellent. I've been reviewing Octomores and Gal Granov, the incredibly gregarious, intelligent, questing and amazingly active master of the Israeli food and booze blogging scene via Whisky Israel among others, asked me how the Octomores compared with Supernova. When I said I had never tried any of them we got busy setting up a trade and I recently received a sample of the 2010 edition from Gal.

Ardbeg Supernova barely there in the glass; huge on the palate

Ardbeg makes peat monsters and when Bruichladdich concocted Octomore, the most heavily peated whisky in the world, Ardbeg quite reasonably derived a competing version. Ardbeg has released fewer versions and less total volume of this intense fire water than Laddie - and they never quite got the peat phenol levels as obscenely far into the stratosphere as Laddie did (and continues to do) with Octomore. However, as anyone who has marveled at the heavy peat flavors of Lagavulin and Laphroaig (which taste mighty peaty at comparatively tiny phenol levels) the ppm number doesn't tell the whole story. I had to see which peat monster tweaked my peat freak tail the hardest.

Ardbeg SuperNova 2010 60.1%

Color: Pale straw

Nose: light and youthful spring meadow with floral vanilla and a kiss of lemon over a darker foreboding with spirit heat, clay, putty, and some distant petrol and auto garage.

Palate The entry is pointed and sweet with malt sugars, grassy and clean. There are gentle intonations of vigorous juicyfruit and jujubee berries on a thin light mouth feel. And then hits a roaring big expansion of spirit heat with vigorous big and classically maritime Ardbeg peat. The peat blooms into massive intensity, well melded with sweet. It is a huge, visceral, pulsating burn. At the turn to the finish it becomes massively bitter and ashen - like the gray end of a fine cigar. The intense ash fades over an extensive period of time progressing though herbal bitters and eventually into a gentle cherry and malty residual sweet glow on your blasted palate.

A dash of water ups the citrus lemon note in the nose and increases the angularity of the sugars. However the mouthfeel is noticeably richer and the pointy sweetness of entry rendered more honeyed. There more pepper and spice in the huge peat expansion.

Bottom line here, Ardbeg Supernova 2010 is a huge peat monster and a delicious dram with a lot going on flavor-wise.

*****

Read Gal's review of it: 
http://whiskyisrael.co.il/2010/08/16/tasting-ardbeg-supernova-2010-release/

The general consensus in the blogosphere seems to be that Supernova 2010 is more citrus and fruit and less phenol and slam than the 2009 edition.  That sounded a lot like the general consensus about the difference between Octomore 01.1 (phenol and slam) and Octomore 2.1 (more sweet and heather - despite higher phenol levels).

Given the sweetness of Supernova and the legacy of the turn to the light between the 2009 and 2010 expressions I decided to skip the heavy petrol of Octomore 01.1 for the head to head comparison.. It was a toss up, for me, between the razor sharp 4.1 or the slightly more rounded 2.1. It seemed like splitting hairs and I have a fresh full bottle of 02.1 and only a couple of ounces of 4.1 so I queued up a dram of Octomore 02.1 straight away.

Octomore 2.1 62.5% 140ppm 5 yo

Color: pale yellow - a tiny touch darker than the pale pale Supernova

Nose: grassy sweet over industrial putty, clay. But where Ardbeg Supernova features floral and lemon notes, Octomore features a darker nasal palate with grass and grain sugars rather than flowers and more peat (clay) notes in evidence.

Palate: Ardbeg opens with pointed malt sugars and young grassy grain too, but more a tiny bit more heft, a thicker mouthfeel, and a slightly bigger mid palate expansion of ash, and tar. Octomore 2.1 has lemon citrus in the turn to the finish. There are maritime notes, iodine, sea air, kalamata olives. With repeated
sips the peat burn builds, but so does a creamy vanilla quality.  This is classic Octomore: grassy malty heather sweet entry followed by a titanic mid palate expansion of explosive peat and rich maritime flavor elements.  The palate experience divides cleanly into two divergent and opposite halves like the twin nature of Man: light and dark; good and evil.  Sweet angelic honey sugar sunlight and monstrous burning ashy tar laden hellfire.

*****

Dramming them side by side I'm struck by how distinct the flavor profiles are: Ardbeg with more floral, citrus, and black pepper; Octomore with more honeyed malt, meadow, tar and cream.  The Ardbeg tastes so distinctly of Ardbeg and the Octomore is clearly in the peated Bruichladdich house style.  Yet I'm also struck by how similar they are to each other. Sweet and young up front with titanic peat wallops and huge tarry finishes. They are both true to what they are and clear Islay kin. Two different routes to the top of peat monster mountain. So, which is king? Octomore is darker and more convincing peat monster from the perspective of the density of burn. However Ardbeg Supernova is just ever so slightly more delicious from my perspective.  They are both monsters and both superb.  It's an academic question anyway.  Both are limited editions and both are long sold out in most places.  

The Harmonic Resonance of Peat: An Ardbeg Vatting Mystery

I had the sublime pleasure of dramming the other day with one of New York's greatest whisky enthusiasts: Peter Silver, aka The Jazz Dentist, Malt Maniac, & PLOWED dude.  He is one of the most erudite, knowledgeable, experienced, generous, story filled, and whisky geekiest people I've ever met or even imagined.  To say I was in hog heaven at our dram session at "Dram Central Station" (his house) would be an understatement.  Among the wonderful things that went down that night and that blew my mind was an incredible vatting of two fierce drams... but, wait.  I should start the story a little earlier... 1803 to be precise...

Peter Silver at Dram Central Station (in the midst of post move unpacking)

In 1803 English genius polymath Thomas Young performed an interesting experiment on harmonic resonance.  You know, that phenomenon where waves can interact either constructively - via positive feedback - or destructively via negative feedback to yield either an increasing power or a decreasing one; a cancelling out.  You run into this a lot in situations like using a microphone too near a speaker, where positive feedback turns a sound into a howl, or in the corner of a swimming pool where the little waves might slap together and form a spout that soaks you in the eye.  Anyway, Thomas Young proved the wave nature of light using a clever experimental arrangement that looks like this:

(from wiki article on Young's Interference Experiment)

The two slits create a zone of raking interaction angle where the wave fronts alternately reinforce and and cancel each other out - producing a characteristic comb-like pattern.  The wave like nature of water waves was shown and then light was tested and the wave nature of light was empirically proven.  Of course, when most people see the double slit diagram they don't think of this vital and important piece of 1803 science.  They think of a later and perhaps even more important piece of science - the one performed in 1909 by G. Taylor and many times since showing wave particle duality in quantum physics.  In that experiment single particles going through twin slits build up over time to show the same comb shaped diffraction interference pattern as water or light.  This means that each particle goes through both slits  and interferes with itself - its own wave-like nature.  Einstein showed that matter and energy are different manifestations of each other. Wave particle duality shows that matter itself is inherently unlocalized.  Spooky - mysterious - inherently incomprehensible. 

Dr. Silver executes the vatting.

But what does any of this have to do with whisky?  This is where Dr. Peter Silver proceeded to blow my mind for the umpteenth time that night.  He replicated an experiment that a friend had shown him where two powerful expressions of peat, slightly out of phase, largely cancel each other out - just as two waves out of phase annihilate each other.

The two slightly out of phase powerful peat expressions are Arbeg Airgh Nam Beist and Corryvreckan - the two expressions I reviewed head to head earlier this week. (Thanks, Peter, for those samples!)

The story was that Dr. Silver's friend loved old expressions of Ardbeg that were more floral and fragrant and more gently peated than the current NAS monsters.  These old expressions have become virtually unobtainable however.  Being a serious whisky scientist, however he had figured out that vatting together Nam Beist and Corryvreckan at a 1 to 1 ratio (1/2 and 1/2) produced a product that, paradoxically, was dramatically less peated than either of its component whiskies and tasted, to the educated palate, remarkably like those old Ardbegs.

Full disclosure: I wouldn't know an antique Ardbeg if it shot me in the knees (Ardbegs typically bear loaded firearms and blast you with them so I figured this was an appropriate metaphor here).  Nevertheless I figure I could say whether vatting together these two peat monsters could somehow - magically, and in violation of all sense or reason - produce a lightly peated dram.

I tasted this vatting that night and was astounded.  Intelligently I took a sample to put under the intense scrutiny of a Jason Debly style "slow whisky" examination later - i.e. here:

A 50-50 Vatting of Ardbeg 2007 Airgh Nam Beist and Corryvreckan

Color: full gold

Nose: Damp clay, and sea airs yield to floral roses, and blackberry and strawberry fruits. These aromas float over a dark and complex backdrop that has me stretching for metaphor: hemp rope, clams, pitch and distant burning earth. Rich, delicious and heady. Loaded and 100% Ardbeg.

Palate: The entry is initially briefly off dry and loaded with sea salt up front. But this rapidly gives way to polite, elegantly rich malt sweetness with clover honey and white cane sugar elements. There is the fierce filigree of high proof white pepper heat and then a gentle stillness. This is the moment where Ardbeg's monster peat normally arrives with fierce dark tar and burning smoky hot ash. But now, this moment never arrives.

The mid palate grows juicy with lime that makes my saliva squirt and a distant warming earthy peat that brings a subtle tingle rather that a fierce burn. There is dark and dusty ash in the turn to the finish - but no wallop. The dominant flavors are herbal bitters, salt crust and sea weed and iodine. More than anything this mix of tar, lemon-lime acid, herbal bitters, and salt reads as high quality kalamata black olives. Delicious, gentle, warming, and ultimately mystifying. This is a vatting of a floral off-dry mature peat monster and a fierce, sharp sugared full bore peat monster. Yet their combination is not a peat monster at all. It is a gentle, richly complex subtly peated dram. The finish is long and gently subtle with malty berry sweet and a lingering earthy tar glow of peat. It's quite a bit sweeter and less "skinned palate" than the usual Ardbeg finish.

Is this a faithful replica of antique Ardbeg? I cannot say. What I can attest is that the spectacle of the cancellation of peat is a stupefying miracle. I'm dazzled and delighted. As a bonus, the resulting spirit is so delicious I could see deliberately vatting a pair of bottles and drinking this smooth, rich, and complicated concoction on a regular basis.  So what is happening on a molecular level?  How is this incredible phenomenon really taking place?  I have not the slightest idea.  Yet I have tasted it myself and can attest it is real.  I believe it is intimately connected with wave-particle duality and the deepest mysteries of the universe but I cannot say precisely why.  I cannot, indeed, even say extremely roughly why.  Frankly, it's really the whisky doing the talking here, completely.  Let it speak and listen to it and maybe we'll all learn something.


Update 8/17/12: This post has led to some lively debate - both in the comments section and on twitter.  Some folks took me literally with the harmonic resonance and quantum physics arguments.  I assure you these are metaphors.  However, what can possibly account for two powerful peat monsters to mix together to combine into a much less peated dram?

When I referred to Oliver Klimek and Bozkurt Karasu "backing" me I was referring to this conversation:

Thanks, Peter! 

Ardbeg Corryvreckan and Airgh Nam Beist head to head.

Last week I discussed Ardbeg's resurrection at the hands of Glenmorangie's brilliant master distiller Bill Lumsden in my post about Ardbeg Alligator. The emerging Ardbeg house style involves No Age Statement whiskies featuring young spirits of enormous power, sharp sweetness, and fierce young peat. These heady brews are then subjected to interesting barrel management techniques. The resulting expressions are then given a cool Celtic name and back story, a massive price tag, and then hyped to high heaven by an aggressive and effective marketing crew while whisky enthusiasts either grumble or cheer. Yet they invariably cough up and imbibe the stuff with gusto. The origins of this pattern come out of the big gaps in production caused by periods of closure, the recent enormous demand for Ardbeg's products, and the fact that youth is often an advantageous attribute for peat monsters. But it hasn't always been this way for Ardbeg. Enthusiasts should study the amazing pages at The Ardbeg Project - particularly the history page.

But much of the history and the issues contained therein can be summarized in a nutshell by looking at the capstone regular edition Ardbegs over the past decade: Airgh Nam Beist from 2006-2008 and Corryvreckan from 2009 on. Nam Beist was a 1990 vintage release that took the whisky community by storm. Powerful, peaty, yet fragrant and richly flavored - it marked the Ardbeg for greatness. It was also sold around $60-$70/bottle which was a fantastic value. Releasing the distillate from a single year over the course of several years is inherently limited however, and stocks were destined to run out. In 2009 the successor, a No Age Statement powerhouse with a fancy Burgundy wine cask finish barrel management angle with a great Gaelic name and back story angle and new, higher price ($85 official) set the pattern in complete detail. The real discussion, as always, takes place in the nose, on the palate, and in the glass:

Ardbeg Airgh Nam Beist 1990-2007 46%

Ardbeg Airgh Nam Beist (in the shelter of the beast) was made from old (pre-Glenmorangie) 1990 vintage stocks from 2006-2008. Thus it is 18-16 years old depending on which bottling. (these details from http://www.ardbegproject.com/anb.shtml) The following tasting notes are for a 2007 example. If you've ever compared Islay peat malts of different ages, say Laphroaig 10 and 18 or Caol Ila 12 and 18 you'll know that age tones down the peat heat and malt sugars and dials up oak influence, perfume, tannins, and complex spices.

Color: Light Gold

Nose: tight at first, but with a 10-15 minutes of air an intense honeyed and floral (roses and honeysuckle) aroma magically appears. The floral sweetness is the foreground and then apricot citrus with brine, iodine sea air, and the industrial putty and clay aromas of peat play well to the rear. This is an extraordinary nose for an Ardbeg - quite distinct from the currently offered NAS expressions.

Palate: Intense grassy off dry opening, unexpected from the sweeter nose (and later sweeter Ardbeg expressions) with a potent peat attack and spirit heat assault fast on its heels. The entry is heather, gorse and meadow sweet, but not honeyed. The mouth feel is silky but light. The honey comes with a burst of rose floral right before The mid palate's explosion of hemp and tar flavors with a light citrus acidic overlay which meld with the earthy burn to turn to ash with herbal anise and eucalyptus at the finish. The melding of grassy and floral sweet with acidic notes and peat burn combine to yield glints of lime flavor: aromatic sweet and acid and dark. It is this melding that is the secret to Nam Beist's yummy magic.

A few drops of water banish the silk from the mouth feel but turn the entry towards a wan sweetness, loaded with a sophisticated herbal complexity, lime, and nutty oak.

Ardbeg Corryvreckan 57.1 %

Corryvreckan shows its Burgundy wine finish in its color

Color: rich gold to old gold

Nose: Sweet meadow grasses with heather and blooming gorse and thicket but sharp and darkened by green lemon, fresh snapped green peas, wet hay, damp clay, and the mineral putty smell of peat. There are also heady phenolic notes of smoke, hemp ropes, iodine and salt sea airs, razor clams and the dangerous razor edge of fierce spirit heat. This is Ardbeg from 50 paces... with pistols.

Palate. Zoom! Pow! You came looking for an intense flavor experience and here it is. Young tongue forward intense sugars and zesty citrus malt, raw clams in sea water and then the white pepper bite of powerful spirit heat and a big robust expansion of gooey tar which blazes into powerful ash. The mouth feel is rich and silky. There are wine influence flavors of berries and bramble in play - mixing with the iodine and maritime and mineral notes to bring some flavors of olives and sea - but all subservient to the massive wallop of peat burn and reek.

This is a rich, seductive, full bore peat monster that skirts the edges of too much. It begs for some water. A dash of water ramps up the razor sweet into a richer, more honeyed, direction. It also makes the spicy peppery heat of the mid palate even hotter. The maritime airs of sea salt, brine, and lemon citrus on salty clams vibrant as ever. The tar-peat expansion is a tad less brutal after water- but still ranging and challenging. This is an intense kick-butt Islay peat monster of the first rank.

Conclusions:

Tasting these two head to head shows clearly that something has definitely been lost in the vintage gap and the coping mechanism of releasing young spirit in a carefully crafted, nicely barrel managed way. There is a grace and beauty and balance in Nam Beist that is absent in Corryvreckan. In its place is a vibrancy and sheer raw power that operates on a much bigger scale. A brilliant string quartet is replaced by a couple of electric guitars and a wall of amps. So something is lost - but something, too, is gained. Corryvreckan is a monster dram. Drinking it is very much like quaffing Bruichladdich's Port Charlotte offerings. These are big peat monsters that challenge and delight. But they are not the graceful beauties of old. Time will tell if evolving styles and powerful market forces mean that those old and stunning flavor notes are gone for good.

Ardbeg Alligator: A Soft Sweet Pussycat

Ardbeg was saved from closure by the 1997 sale to Glenmorangie - a step that brought Bill Lumsden's creativity. Lumsden, master distiller, is a pioneer and genius with wood finishes and interesting mash bills at Glenmorangie. Some have said that this creativity was rendered necessary there because Glenmorangie suffered a loss of flavor complexity in its base distillate over the decade prior to his arrival in the mid 1990s. I haven't tasted very old Glenmorangie yet so, personally I can't say. When Lumsden took over at Ardbeg he faced a similar problem to the one Jim McEwan had at Bruichladdich. New production not going to be ready for years and a gap in production timing. Lumsden responded in a similar way: with innovative wood finishes - and also with a strategy of releasing no age statement expressions that vatted some of the mature stuff with quantities of the younger stuff made since reopening. At the same time, the popularity of malt whisky has exploded and appetite for Ardbeg's richly peated flavor signature has reached a sort of mania. Old bottlings have become insanely expensive. Even the new no age statement stuff retails for quite a high price. Some resent this as gouging - others tolerate it as supply and demand. The resentment fixates on Ardbeg's rather prominent marketing efforts. Is Ardbeg over priced and over hyped? Maybe so. Is the whisky delicious and worth it anyway? You're not going to get an argument on that score from me.

Ardbeg Alligator, is universally reviewed with some mention of alligators (the animals). The marketing famously centers on them and their fierce snapping jaws. But, as has been pointed out extensively the name is due to its being crafted by aging sweet 'n peaty Ardbeg in barrels that have been so intensively charred that an "alligator" pattern of char burn has formed inside the casks. Thus, in this example we see the full spectrum of Ardbeg's issues: hyped, extensively marketed with a gimmick, no age statement, expensive ($99/bottle), limited (and mostly sold out), and made with a fascinating new wood barrel angle. What's the verdict?

Ardbeg Alligator Committee Reserve 2011 51.2%

Color: rich full gold

Nose: honey malt and phenolic "industrial putty" peat dominate the nose. There are also salty sea airs with wafts of iodine, clams and low tide flats, cut hay, and a gentle distant hint of wet dog. I'm well aware that this is the kind of descriptive language that make non-whisky people literally laugh out loud at us, but this is a lovely Islay nose that I found perfectly appetizing.

Entry is momentarily sweet with malt sugar and then with the darker sweetness of char. This is the sweetish burn essence of charred wood. The midpalate expansion is gentle for a dram of this proof with rich creamy lactones and a silky mouth feel. Peat takes over as the mid palate reaches full swing with an earthy burn. The peat drives the turn the finish as gentle wood ash. Ash and oak tannins and a lingering herbal malt mark a fairly long finish as you'd expect of a big cask strength peated Islay from deeply charred casks.

Adding a few drops of water thins the body but sweetens the hello. Where is the spirit heat? This among the more gentle and smooth Ardbegs I've had. It drinks a lot like Ardbeg 10 with an array of additional char flavor notes added along side.

I'm a sucker for this sort of thing. Delicious, but a very small incremental step up from the base expression. As such, close to 5 stars.

****

It's stunning that the flavor signature of the charred barrel is so readily apparent. Striking too, was the young nature of the spirit with fresh sugars and fresh phenolic flavors. However, the gentleness I detect stood up in a head to head comparison with another Ardbeg in the speed tasting organized by Graham of the Perfect Whisky Match:
http://www.cooperedtot.com/2012/07/speedwhisky-4-drams-in-15-minutes-then.html

In the speed tasting it was quite clear that Alligator's favor density and peat attack were well behind that of Ardbeg's sherried Uigedail expression.

Anyway - close to academic. This item is sold out pretty much everywhere.

Ardbeg Uigeadail marries explosive fiery peat with seductive sherry sweetness for a massive flavor bomb

Ardbeg whiskeys are big big big peat bombs. Thank goodness they are back in business (after a closure in the 80s and limited production in most of the 90s) for the stout of hearts who feel that Laphroig, Lagavulin, and Caol Ila are just too wimpy. Ardbegs like Supernova, Corryvreckan, and Crocodile are massive dark smokey maritime affairs. People who seek more light in their palate might be tempted to give Ardbeg a bye. Uigeadail (pronounced OOO-guh-dahl) is the luscious sweet red haired sherry maiden married to the dark peat monster with famous finesse. It is a reason for everyone who likes single malt to find a reason to kiss the monster that lives in the depths of the black pond. (Uigeadail is the name of the black pond where Ardbeg gets their water. It's black from the peat). Thus concludes my attempt at humor. Here's the tasting:
In the glass Uigeadail is a stunning amber gold with some olive tints. Nose is huge and peat smokey with iodine and fresh sea air. First sip wallops with rich honeyed sweetness and warm peat burn exploding through a rich oily texture. By midpalate red fruits, sherry come on strong and the peat smoke has widened. Maritime airs abound, with salt spray, green olives, kippers and oysters. There's oak and vanilla bean at the start of the finish. Finish is huge and long and unfolding with wood resin, char, smoke, and honeyed sherry all the way home. It's a mammoth flavor profile that makes your head swim. It's the kind of dram you can smell 20 feet away in a room where a single glass has aired for 10 minutes. My kids know when I've been drinking Uigeadail without getting closer than 5 feet away - if you catch my drift. There's nothing subtle about this. If you long for density of flavor and want a rich sweet dessert aspect to your peat bomb - this is it. This is a landmark malt. All the reviews are glowing and I hope they are making a ton of this stuff because it deserves a permanent place in the canon.


*****