For as long as I can remember, I’ve been searching for that elusive dram—a whisky that doesn’t merely hint at greatness but roars with it. Like a mythical creature lurking in the shadows of the old world, waiting to be discovered, Peat’s Beasthad piqued my curiosity with its bold name, promising an untamed adventure in a bottle. At last, I had the chance to face the beast, to see if it could balance the wildness of peat with the poetry of craftsmanship.
The moment the cork is pulled, it’s as if a door swings open to another realm. The first scent rises like the smoke from a long-forgotten fire, one that’s smoldered quietly in the damp moss of a coastal forest. The peat, of course, dominates, but this beast doesn’t bellow; it breathes. Along with the smoky tendrils, there’s a surprising flutter of citrus—a bright sunbeam peeking through the clouds of wood smoke and tar. Imagine a beach at dawn, where the morning fog hasn’t fully lifted, and the air smells of saltwater and apple orchards.
This, my friends, is not just peat—it’s a symphony of senses, each note in harmony with the next.
On the palate, the beast reveals its true form. If the aroma is the misty prelude, the taste is the storm. With the first sip, you’re pulled into a tempest of flavors, like being caught in a rolling wave crashing against a rugged shore.
The punch of pepper hits first, sharp as lightning, followed by the smoky richness of kippers on a beach bonfire. But just as the beast shows its teeth, there’s a shift—an unexpected sweetness, like a lull in the storm.
Banana whispers, gentle and ripe, bringing a softness to the briny, fiery feast. It’s a wild ride, no doubt, but there’s a sophistication to the chaos—a raw beauty that’s rare, even in the realm of peat monsters.
Where some blends fall flat or serve merely as appetizers before the main course, Peat’s Beast stands alone, proud and defiant. It coats the mouth with an oily richness, the kind that makes you think of darkened skies and ancient woods. It’s as though the whisky is both the beast and the forest it roams, full of hidden depths and untamed power.
And as it lingers, it reveals more of itself. The seaweed, the salt, the smoky ham—they all circle back, but this time with a peppery intensity that’s tempered by dark chocolate and a hint of tar. It’s a slow burn, an ember that refuses to die.
The finish is where the beast really stretches its legs. Imagine a bonfire that’s been burning all night, reduced to glowing coals. You sit beside it, the last to leave the party, and even though the fire is no longer raging, it stays with you—the warmth on your skin, the smoky scent in your clothes. Peat’s Beast finishes like that—long, slow, and full of memories. Ash, pepper, and dark chocolate ride out over the final wave, leaving a taste of the wild long after the dram is gone. It’s not just a whisky; it’s an echo that keeps calling you back.
This beast, however, isn’t all muscle and smoke. Beneath the rough exterior lies a heart—one that beats with subtlety and finesse. Though the distilleries remain cloaked in mystery, you can sense the craftsmanship that went into taming this creature, even if only just enough to make it drinkable. The phenol level—35 ppm—gives it a fierce, peaty bite, but this isn’t the reckless power of an Islay giant like Ardbeg’s Supernova. It’s more like a lion, prowling quietly in the twilight, every move measured and purposeful.
And then there’s the label—a masterpiece in its own right. Illustrated by the renowned Brazilian artist Doug Alves, it depicts the beast in all its primal glory, a creature as mesmerizing as it is fearsome. Like Beauty and the Beast, the whisky’s exterior belies the complexity within. Yes, it’s a monster, but one with a soul, a whisky that doesn’t just roar—it sings.
The entry-level version, bottled at 46% ABV, is merely the opening chapter. There are whispers of greater beasts to have evoled—cask strength versions, drams finished in Pedro Ximénez casks, and even an Islay single malt. Each promises to take this whisky’s untamed spirit and push it further into uncharted territory. We cannot wait to experience the beast unleashing its fury at an elevated ABV.
In the end, Peat’s Beast is a whisky that captures the essence of duality. It’s rugged yet refined, wild yet controlled—a beast with the heart of a poet. For those who crave the smoke of bonfires, the salt of sea air, and the darkness of a storm, this is a whisky that will not disappoint. Like a story well-told, it leaves you breathless and wanting more.
A beast, yes—but one with beauty to spare.
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Words by AW.
Photo courtesy of Fox Fitzgerald Co.