Caol Ila 15

I had a tip from a friend, that the Alley Light had a good selection of Scotches, so I ventured there to see if there was a new one to try. On my walk over to the bar, I happened upon a man pushing a bicycle, loaded with things, very slowly down the road; I wondered if he might be homeless...

As I walked past him, I called "have a good night!" His response was kind and humbling, as he offered to share some fruit with me (strawberries or bananas) and when I declined, he said, "as long as you're not hungry." I assured him I was fine, and he proceeded to tell me that he often donates food to a local center whenever he is able. We chatted briefly, and quickly went on our separate ways, wishing each other well. I am thankful that I've learned to always question my assumptions about people.

The Alley Light is an all-but-hidden restaurant on a side alley of downtown Charlottesville. It hearkens to the speakeasys of old, and I half expected them to require a password or handshake at the door. The entrance is entirely unassuming, and I wasn't the only one who wasn't quite sure if this was actually the right location.

I had tried to visit the weekend before, but there was no room at the bar, so I decided to come back on a weekday. That first night, on my drive downtown, I heard a song on the radio that caught my ear, and I was surprised to find out it was by Trey Anastasio of Phish.

I first heard of the band many many years ago, when someone explained their music as having a great upbeat melody, but with darker or sad lyrics. I was intrigued by the idea, but I never did feel an affinity for their songs. It's been years since I've actually even heard them, so I was surprised when I learned who was performing the song that night. They were sad lyrics, and if you're in a melancholy mood, get yourself a dram for comfort, and ponder on wonderful things that end too soon with I Miss You:

When I finally made my way up to the bar, I was not disappointed by their selection:

I saw quite a few lads on the shelves who I've yet to have the pleasure of meeting, and was excited about the possibilities. I ended up deciding to go with Caol Ila 15, as I had really enjoyed meeting his younger brother, the 12. I was really looking forward to the strong, smoky peat flavor. 

I was served my dram in an elegant, stemmed tasting glass. Bringing the vessel to my nose, my first impressions were of fog - thick and heavy...and only a bare hint of smoke. I was confused by this at first because I expected the familiar burst of bonfire or smokehouse...and then I looked at the bottle again.

In small, unassuming writing, the words "Unpeated Style" were whispered to me from the label. I could almost hear the stifled laughter of the Scotch gods to my muse. I felt mildly betrayed, but shook my head and joined in the laughter as I remembered that this is often the way of things. The irony was that I felt so safe and confident in ordering an Islay - so certain that any Scotch from this region would have a strong presence of smoky goodness. I sighed to myself, humbled again; I still have much to learn about this spirit. It's a good thing I'm loving this journey.

I was somewhat comforted by the words right below the mocking betrayal, because this lad was natural cask strength; if nothing else, he'd be strong. The first taste proved that true, and I also found him sweet and smooth, with a warm spice.

There were two bartenders there that evening; I didn't get to meet the woman officially as she was busy, but I recognized Matt, from a previous tasting at the Whisky Jar. He and I chatted for a bit about the Scotches. I mentioned looking forward to coming back to meet the Laphroaig 18 that I saw on the shelf.

He told me that it actually is no longer sold, and when I inquired to how much was left in the bottle, we discovered that there was only one single lonely dram. I wished I had ordered that one instead but I promised to be back soon; hopefully I will get a chance to meet him.


He also pointed out that they carried Lagavulin's younger brother, the 8 year. That was good news indeed; I didn't think I'd get a chance to meet that one. So very quickly my options for meeting new lads were plentiful again.

I turned back to my strong, unpeated Islay and added a bit of water. With this adjustment, I tested the nose again and immediately thought of ice cream. Quickly after, the specific note I was sensing settled down into caramel, then dulce de leche, and finally caramel sauce. Mmm...delightful!

The flavor was still strong, with a peppery note, and I also noticed dry finish. As I continued the conversation with this Islay-not-Islay Scotch, I wondered to myself, why would you not peat an Islay? I mean, that's what they're known for - so why remove that element? The obvious thought is that the distillery is trying to appeal to a wider audience. In the Scotch world it does seem you're either a peat lover or you're absolutely not. The articles I read on this particular gentlemen seemed to offer a different angle - that they were trying to present a more true expression of the actual whisky, without the peat smoke. I'm fairly certain I don't buy it.

The way I see it, an Islay without it's peat is like a song without it's lyrics. Sure, the melodies and harmonies may be beautiful in themselves, and perhaps there is something more pure in this experience, but the synergy of the two together *is* the song. Thinking of Phish, if you separate the lyrics from the music, you're definitely missing an important aspect of the song.

Caol Ila 15 was pleasant enough, but if I'm wanting to spend the night with a Scotch that's not smoky, there are plenty of lovely Highland or Speyside lads I would turn to. I'll keep my Islays peated, thank you very much; and next time I'll make sure to read the label before I order, to catch any whispered truths I may need to know about.