This isn’t a dram. It’s a declaration. Pouring deep copper, thick-legged and brooding, it announces itself with bold aromatics: stewed stone fruit, blackstrap molasses, scorched oak, and something floral, like lavender charred by lightning.

The palate is a sledgehammer in velvet — apricot jam, burnt sugar, dark chocolate, and heavy malt, all riding a wave of alcohol that surges then crests, revealing hidden contours of spice and dried fruit. It’s massive, unapologetic, and needs water like a character needs redemption. With time, new notes emerge — licorice root, grilled peach, and tobacco leaf.

The finish is fire and fade — a long, searing echo of burnt orange, cinnamon, and smouldering oak embers. This is the whisky you pour when silence falls and the real conversation begins.