If there’s one Islay malt that I’d not be as reluctant to put in a cocktail, it’s that Laphroaig, but somehow the thought still feels wrong.

Fun fact: As a kid, I crossed the inner-German border in Berlin frequently before the Wall came down. At the Friedrichstraße subway station, they used to use a floor cleaner with a very dictinct phenolic smell to it. So whenever I have an Islay whisky, I cannot help but remember these days before 1989.