I do not like the Islay malts.
I do not like their many faults.
I do not like the taste of peat.
I do not like the smell of feet.
But hey, it was free. As my dope rhymes indicate, I’m not a fan of the peaty, Islay malts. You can literally taste the mossy lichen it was strained through and the sea water that serves as the base. I’m under the impression that this attitude will deny me membership in the elite club of Single Malt Snobbery but so be it. I likes what I likes and this ain’t it. There was one bottle of Lagavulin (an older, more expensive bottle) that won me over with it’s character but even that one had the slight aftertaste of a sailor’s gym sock. This Bowmore is all gym sock.
Blech. 1 shot.