Introduction
Lagavulin has long held a steady place in my cabinet, especially the 16 Year Old, which I find myself returning to with regularity. So when I heard about this 11 Year Old Sweet Peat expression, I was curious. Lagavulin and “sweet” aren’t two words I usually associate, and I wanted to know how they’d balanced that classic Islay smoke with gentler character. This isn't part of their regular lineup—more of a limited release—so I picked up a bottle as soon as it was available to see for myself what kind of direction they were exploring.
Nose
On the nose, it struck me as somewhat more restrained than other Lagavulin bottlings. The smoke is present, but softer—a sort of toasted peat rather than the heavier, medicinal punch some expect from Islay malts. I picked up warm barley, a dryness like hay, and behind that, a mellow sweetness, almost like vanilla pod and slightly singed honeycomb. It's familiar, but it leans toward a more balanced, approachable profile. I also noticed a faint nuttiness that’s unusual for Lagavulin, but not unwelcome.
Palate
The taste follows through with that balance. The peat is there, but dialed back, more of a background presence that lets the lighter, malt-driven notes come through. There’s a soft, biscuity core, some caramelised sugar, and subtle spice—cinnamon bark, perhaps. The spirit itself feels leaner than the 16, but still carries a decent oiliness across the tongue. As it opens up with a little time or a touch of water, I got hints of orchard fruits—pear skin and baked apple—but nothing overly sweet or fruity. More of a natural sweetness that plays well with the understated smoke.
Finish
The finish is medium length and leans clean, which surprised me for a peated dram. There's a residual warmth and a fading echo of smoke, but it doesn’t overstay its welcome. Dry malt notes linger longer than I expected, along with a touch of charred oak and light spice. Not abrupt, but not particularly rich or extended either. It’s more subtle than many Lagavulin releases, but it fits the overall character of the whisky.
Price and Value
As a limited edition, the pricing lands a bit above their regular expressions—about where you'd expect for an 11-year-old single malt in a specialty bottling. In terms of value, I’d say it depends on what you’re looking for. If you're a fan of Lagavulin’s smokier, more robust side, this may not totally hit the mark. But if you're interested in seeing how their house style adapts with a gentler profile, it's an interesting deviation and definitely worth tasting at least once.
Background
This expression seems to be part of a broader experiment within Lagavulin's lineup—one that gently expands their flavor range. It's not officially labelled “Sweet Peat” on the bottle, but it’s been referred to as such to distinguish its softer, sweeter tones from their signature intensity. Still bottled at 48% ABV, it retains strength and presence without overwhelming the senses.
Lagavulin distillery, based in southern Islay, is known for its long fermentation times and relatively slow distillation, both of which contribute to that deep, layered smokiness in their whiskies. This 11-year-old rendition still carries those hallmarks, but with some cask selection that seems intended to soften and sweeten the edges, possibly incorporating refill casks or ex-bourbon barrels to allow the malt to shine more distinctly.
Final Notes
Would I buy this bottle again? Not as a staple, but I enjoyed it for what it was—a thoughtful, slightly softer take on a classic style. It's definitely more accessible for someone newer to peated whiskies; the peat is noticeable but not overbearing. If you’re trying to nudge someone toward Islay malts without diving straight into heavy iodine or brine, this could be a considerate starting point.
Is this a whisky for quiet nights or for sharing? For me, it’s better enjoyed in quieter moments—it encourages slower sips and gives space for its subtleties to unfold.
Compared to other Islay whiskies at a similar age, it feels more reserved, especially when lined up alongside something like Caol Ila 12 or Ardbeg Wee Beastie. That makes it notable in its own right—not every Islay dram has to carry an aggressive edge.
So, is it still recognisably Lagavulin? Yes, though in a more understated way. The DNA is there, just softened, broadened, and slightly reinterpreted. It’s an interesting experiment in balance—one that fans of the distillery may well want to try while it’s still available.