SPOILED MEAT – Score: 3.5/10
Some drams announce themselves before the glass even reaches the nose. Pour this one and the room fills with smoke — not the gentle hearth of a coastal cottage, but something heavier, darker, closer to a smouldering curing shed left unattended for a little too long.
Octomore was born at Bruichladdich, the distillery on Islay’s Rhinns that was revived in 2001 after years of silence. Under Jim McEwan, the team set out to push peat to its absolute limits, and the series took its name from the Octomore farm just above Port Charlotte. The “.3” editions carry a particular pedigree: they are distilled from barley grown on Islay itself, a statement of terroir in a category usually dominated by sheer phenol counts.
In the glass, the promise of that farmland struggles to come through. The peat smoke is everywhere, layered with damp bark and a faint cereal note of wheat. Liquorice and pepper add bite on the palate, and a flicker of mint tries to bring some freshness, yet it is quickly smothered. What lingers is a meaty, gamey character that tips over into something frankly off-putting — cured meat that has turned, rather than the savoury richness one might hope for.
There is ambition here, and the raw power is undeniable, but the balance never arrives. For lovers of extreme peat it may be a curiosity worth a single pour; for the rest of us, this Octomore remains a hard, unrewarding climb.
