Ardbeg Uigeadail

Who you callin’ Uigeadail?

Let’s get the pronunciation out of the way first: it’s said “Oog-a-dal,” per Ardbeg. Those of you who have had the misfortune of hearing me attempt to pronounce Gaelic words will be grateful that any misconceptions have been cleared up on the front end, and I’m certainly thankful to no longer be verbally butchering this name. Plus: if there’s a more amusing syllable in global whisky than “oog,” I have yet to encounter it.

I was shocked that this expression had not yet been reviewed on Malt. After all, there’s been no shortage of reviews of both official and independently bottled Ardbeg expressions, as well as a paean to the distillery by one of its superfans. As the distillery itself notes, “Uigeadail was voted by the 120,000+ strong Ardbeg Committee as their favourite Ardbeg.” 120,000 peatheads can’t be wrong, right? Whatever the reason for its omission heretofore, I am happy to be filling in one of the rare blank spots in Malt’s increasingly encyclopedic review corpus.

The first time I tried Uigeadail was back in 2016, when a dear friend dropped by my flat with a bottle. I couldn’t pronounce it, but I was more than happy to judge it. My sketchy notes from that experience read “Nose uncannily like a hardware store, with petrochemical aromas of rubber and weed killer. The palate is a bit of salty water and a lot of smoky peat, with a somewhat tart finish. Unmistakably Islay, in a way that lets the smoke crowd out any other nuances… this is too brusque and coarse for my tastes.”

I revisited this whisky again in 2019 (still mispronouncing it; I ordered a “wee-guh-dail”) at Grand Central Station’s exquisite Scottish bar, The Campbell. A coworker and I had endured a long day of meetings and something with a bit of “oomph” was required to kick off our evening. Suspending my prejudice, I found my second dalliance with this whisky to be much more fulfilling than the first. I didn’t take notes, but my vague impression was that this brought all the power but none of the uncomfortable imbalances of my prior run-in with Mr. Oogie Boogie.

Stepping back for a moment: what, exactly, is this? Well, it’s a single malt from the Ardbeg distillery on Islay, of course. The name comes from “the brooding, mysterious loch which provides the peat-laden water for Ardbeg,” per the back label on one of the older bottles. Beyond that, we have Ardbeg’s own description: “a special vatting that marries Ardbeg’s traditional deep, smoky notes with luscious, raisiny tones of old ex-Sherry casks.” First bottled in 2003 (from whisky produced in 1993), this won The Award That Shall Not Be Mentioned from That Now-Disgraced Whisky Reviewer in 2009.

Setting aside brooding bodies of water and concupiscent critics, I have some idea what I’m in for: a high strength blend of Ardbeg from an undisclosed combination of ex-bourbon barrels and sherry casks. Peated Islay malts and sherry casks can play very nicely together indeed, but each element has its attendant risks. There’s the possibility of phenolic overload from the peated malt, of course, but also the more general decline in sherry butt quality potentially imparting some less-than-desirable notes. Regardless, I’m cautiously optimistic going into this tasting.

Before I render my own verdict, some final specifics: this comes to us non chill-filtered and at a strength of 54.2% ABV. A 750 ml bottle retails for $80 at my local, or $108.99 via Shared Pour. Closer to home, Master of Malt request £51.49, The Whisky Exchange is £59.95, or Amazon is £57.99, but do shop around. This was a dram kindly shared by Stuart; praise be to him and all our magnanimous benefactors for their ongoing generosity with their liquid assets.

Ardbeg Uigeadail – Review

Color: Medium-pale gold.

On the nose: The initial impression is a fresh and fruity one, as this jumps out of the glass with aromas of spring flowers and ripe cantaloupe. Gradually, this transitions into a whiff of toasted wheat bread, progressing further into a sweet and smoky note of campfire-roasted marshmallows and some spicy scents of cinnamon-flavored candy. Inhaling deeper, I start to get a sticky note of tar and the aroma of meat cooked low and slow in the style of Texas pit BBQ. This continues to evolve for several minutes, with ephemeral notes of peppermint, lemon, saffron, and saline making fleeting appearances.

In the mouth: This is very lean and elegant to start, with a gentle but firm saltwater flavor on the lips. This picks up a bit as it moves further into the mouth, mingling with flavors of salted cashews, ash, and lemon zest, and ripe banana. The phenolic notes bloom gracefully at the center of the palate, coating the cheeks and the roof of the mouth with a gentle smokiness and the persistent flavor of iodine. This fades gradually into the finish, where a drying sensation meets some well-balanced peat notes and yet more salty maritime notes, this time of seashells.

Conclusions

I’m not sure the sherry casks, in whatever proportion, were especially influential here… but it doesn’t really matter. The nose on this is top class, presenting diverse aromas from across the spectrum. Everything is in good balance and the elements are individually distinguishable but also contribute to a unified and cogent whole.

The palate, in contrast, presents itself in more clearly delineated phases. Whereas one aroma would morph into another so seamlessly that they sometimes felt hard to catch, the textures and flavors here are more obviously divided as they progress through front, middle, back, and finish. That said, there’s not an off note or point of disharmony; everything I taste is in balance in its own right as well as with respect to its surroundings.

This ticks so many boxes: it’s presented at high strength, without chill filtration, and is competitively priced (Three diphthongs for $80? In this economy!?!). More than that, Uigeadail gives us all the qualities for which peated Islay malt is revered, as well as feared. However, the scariest part of this whisky is the pronunciation of the name. All the things that could go wrong didn’t, and we’re left with a whisky of distinct character, high quality, and excellent value.

Score: 8/10

Photograph kindly provided by The Whisky Exchange and we do have commission links within this article if you want to support Malt.