This is Highland Park cranked to eleven — raw, thunderous, and completely untamed. Release No.3 is an elemental performance: earth, fire, smoke, and steel. At 64.1%, it doesn't walk into the room, it explodes through the doors, wielding a flaming guitar and a war horn.

In the glass, it’s deep gold, verging on bronze — oily, muscular, and brooding. The nose is a firestorm: orange peel blasted with black pepper, smoked bacon sizzling over peat embers, vanilla pod split wide, and scorched oak bark. Underneath: a tension of dried fig, ginger snap, and charred grain — like a distillery still glowing from the last blast.

First sip? Brace yourself. It surges across the palate with molten power: toffee apple dipped in lava, chili-spiked dark chocolate, burnt cinnamon stick, and oak char so dense it crackles. But beneath the flames, there’s melody — dried berries, brown sugar, briny depth, and that unmistakable Highland Park DNA: heather smoke and honeyed malt.

Mid-palate, it finds its groove. There’s more complexity than the ABV suggests: roasted hazelnuts, fennel seed, espresso grind, salted caramel, and a pulse of coastal salinity. With water, it stretches out — opens like a solo riff in a cathedral. Notes become clearer, more structured. The smoke relaxes but still sings.

The finish is immense. Lingering heat, sweet spice, singed fruit, and smouldering oak. A dram that doesn’t ask permission. It’s not just strong — it’s symphonic. Controlled chaos. A tribute to power, crafted with a maestro’s hand.