Perched perilously close to the sea spray and pebbled shores of Islay’s southern coast, Ardbeg is something of a cult in the world of peated malt. Its fans, often fiercely loyal and inexplicably fond of green branding, revere it not merely for its formidable smoke, but for the sense of wild irreverence it brings to tradition.

Founded in 1815, Ardbeg’s journey has been anything but smooth sailing. It has weathered closures, ownership changes, and one particularly barren spell in the 1980s that nearly saw its kiln flames extinguished for good. Thankfully, Glenmorangie swooped in during the late 1990s with a rescue plan and a marketing flair, and the distillery has since become a global symbol of Islay’s smoky charms.

Its production is delightfully hands-on - old-style wooden washbacks, a relatively short fermentation, and stills with a quirky purifier on the spirit still that tempers the wilder elements. The resulting whisky is gloriously medicinal, with briny lashings of seaweed and peat smoke, yet balanced by an unexpected fruitiness that peeks through the fog.

Despite a relatively modest capacity, Ardbeg punches above its weight in both presence and potency. While its neighbours wear their history with solemnity, Ardbeg seems to dance in a lab coat and goggles, madly experimenting and somehow always landing on its feet.