Caol Ila in Utter Chaos, Part 4 and last


January 19, 2026

Caol Ila in Utter Chaos, Part 4 and last

Because it’s high time to put an end to this Caol Ila onslaught. After forty different expressions, we’ll call it a day—for now.

(Caol Ila
/Diageo)

Caol Ila 16 yo 1982/1998 (43%, Signatory, cask #1770-71, 896 bottles)

A Caol Ila we had already tasted before 2002 (WF 89) but for which we hadn’t yet written up any proper tasting notes, though Rome wasn’t built in a day, was it. Colour: very pale white wine. Nose: it’s fresh, very close to seawater, tight as a thong and packed with charcoal. Well-worn, naturally. Perfect, and even the low strength seems well suited. These are splendid vintages. Mouth: yes, truly perfect, very dry, stuffed with ashes like the ashtray of a cigar club at four in the morning, also brimming with oysters, though there’s little fruit, not even a touch of lemon. Finish: long, even more saline now, and by this point rather medicinal. Iodine, toothpaste, mercurochrome. Comments: it’s practically charcoal eau-de-vie. I don’t believe I’ll even bother changing my score from twenty-five years ago.
SGP:267 - 89 points.

Caol Ila 10 yo 2015/2025 (57.1%, Wilson & Morgan, Barrel Selection, 100 proof, 1stfill oloroso sherry finish, casks #302640-41-42-43, 1055 bottles)

Colour: full gold. Nose: when you see peat and first fill sherry, you’re really only looking for one thing, balance. Let’s see… Well, it’s a success, nicely camphory with touches of wasabi, then candied oranges and the expected green walnut. It works like sheet music (Verdi’s, no less!) With water: peaty nocino! È una bomba! Mouth (neat): impressively compact, saline and very smoky. The sherry only punctuates it all without ever trying to take over, even if there’s a lovely bit of salted dark chocolate. With water: pepper and leather come crashing in, adding tension without upsetting the balance… slightly brutal now, though. Finish: very long, mustardy, peppery and crammed with walnuts. Comments: for a 10-year-old, I’m smitten.
SGP:467 - 88 points.

Caol Ila 15 yo 2010/2025 (56%, C. Dully Selection, bourbon hogshead, cask #17752, 266 bottles)

Colour: pale gold. Nose: the creamy, citrusy softness of a good bourbon hogshead, with smoked almonds, lemon curd, fresh seaweed and cider apples. I nearly forgot the obligatory oysters. Impeccable. With water: the oils emerge—almond, sunflower, hazelnut… Mouth (neat): the expected sharpness, the expected freshness, all the expected maritime elements, plus that slightly green ash that coats the whole. Lemon zest. With water: it stays perfectly defined, with flawless salinity and a fair dose of green pepper. Strongly marked yuzu or finger lime adds even more zing to the whole. Finish: long and pure, lime and seawater, with two or three green olives in the aftertaste. Comments: a modern—and more powerful—counterpart to the excellent 1982 with which we began this final session.
SGP:567 - 89 points.

Caol Ila 13 yo 2011/2024 ‘Wunderkammer’ (57.3%, Morisco Spirits, 1st fill oloroso, cask #58211, 307 bottles)

There’s a lovely kind of Wunderkammer in Edinburgh, when climbing the Royal Mile towards the castle, on the right-hand side. But of course, our friends’ cellars are also a kind of Wunderkammers in their own way. Colour: amber orange. Nose: absolutely gorgeous, with aromas leaning towards orange and tobacco, plus oily waxes and a beach bonfire. Magnificent, truly. With water: it doesn’t shift, only showing a little more young walnut. Mouth (neat): lovely lovely lovely lovely. Smoked pepper, very dark chocolate, walnut liqueur, lemon (from Sicily, naturally), very dry white wine (Grillo again) … With water: oh well done! Finish: long, very salty, leather, tobacco, cardamom, pepper, horseradish, mustard… Comments: dry as a cane thrashing, as we say over here, utterly brilliant from start to finish.
SGP:367 - 90 points.

Caol Ila 1978/1992 (64.8%, Scotch Malt Whisky Society, #53.5)

This is the oldest Caol Ila from the SMWS we've ever tasted—only that rascal Angus sampled the very, very first ones. But 1978, of course, already means the new distillery… Still, beware the strength… Colour: white wine. Nose: it’s a different style altogether, leaning towards citrus, grapefruit, but also coconut, Scottish daiquiri, lime… But at these near-lethal strengths, that doesn’t necessarily mean much. With water: it really bursts forth with petrol, fresh tar, new sneakers, Barbour grease… You get the picture. Mouth (neat): it’s gorgeous, but it’s also very powerful. Medicinal citrus and peppers, let’s say, plus bitter paraffins. With water: a little more civilised, but only just. In truth, this brutality is rather magnificent, thanks to how those petroly, tarry, smoky notes unravel into myriad tiny touches of oils, truffle, rubber, lapsang souchong as often found in these whiskies, basil, coriander. Quite. Finish: very long and very salty, as you might imagine. Comments: all those early SMWS bottlings were rather spectacular. Brutal and rough-edged at the time, but after thirty years in bottle, they’ve mellowed a bit and grown more complex, to our great delight (I swear I don’t work and never worked for the honourable SMWS).
SGP:567 - 91 points.

Since we are among the ancestors…

Caol Ila 22 yo 1974/1997 (54.4%, Signatory Vintage, cask #1974/46, 310 bottles)

Also from the new distillery. One can’t stress enough just how much impact those ‘dumpy’ Signatory bottles, in their improbably velvety boxes (even though I’m not sure it was already the velvet-covered boxes in this particular case), had on generations of whisky lovers keen to move beyond the often rather… uninspiring official bottlings. Colour: white wine. Nose: mad elegance, vegetal and petroly oils, top Chardonnay, olives, roasted pistachios… No need to pile on, it’s already sublime. With water: sublimissimo. Virgin wool, chalk, a brand-new scarf from the Islay Woollen Mill, bread dough, crabs from the Sound of Islay, local beer… It’s like standing right there, it’s insane. Mouth (neat): lemon and ashes, power ten, plus new rubber and seawater. No more, no less, and it’s spot on. Well, a few salted bitter almonds too. With water: the smoked and salted bitter almonds take over the fight. Good on them. Finish: long, magnificent, more bitter but also fatter. Comments: well, it was always going to be like this…
SGP:466 - 92 points.

Caol Ila 12 yo 1992/2005 (46%, Duncan Taylor, Whisky Galore)

We’d already tasted this wee one some 20 years ago, though not under ideal circumstances. Let’s put that right, shall we… Colour: gold. Nose: it’s charming, on roasted peanuts, fresh mastic, ski wax, tiny pickled lemons, almond milk… This time, the peat is discreet, just oily enough. Linseed oil. Mouth: yes, it’s good, on bitter almonds, seawater, green pepper, dark chocolate, tart apples, liquorice wood, gentian… Finish: fairly long, earthy, rooty, with a style that may feel a tad out of fashion. But we, for one, adore roots—in the literal sense, let’s leave cheap identity politics aside. Very salty aftertaste. Comments: a very lovely bottle, I believe the reduction to 46% followed by twenty years in bottle has done it a world of good.
SGP:467 - 87 points.

Caol Ila 30 yo 1995/2025 (50.9%, The Antelope & Kanpaikai, Dollar Cat #2, refill hogshead, cask #809708, 168 bottles)

Many good things come from these folks… Colour: gold. Nose: this is already a slightly rounded, mellowed, more complex old Caol Ila, yet still showing the distillate’s natural attributes, ashes, waxes, seaweed, faint medicinal touches (bandages), and almond oil, with wee notes of preserved lemon and zest from tiny grapefruits. Or pomelos, if you prefer. With water: more wax, paraffin, lamp oil… Mouth (neat): we’re at that stage where a little softness settles in with age, but absolutely not at the expense of the distillate, which remains very briny and ashy. There are hints of kimchi, pepper, even sake, though I promise you these impressions have nothing to do with the bottle’s geographical origin in the taster’s mind. Proof? There’s also a firm hit of manzanilla, stronger than usual. With water: the pepper takes the lead, hand in hand with salted liquorice. Finish: rather long, almost unchanged save for a slight tingle of chilli and those always surprising little touches of strawberry and mango in the aftertaste, which do sometimes pop up in peated Islay. Comments: a very fine bottle, sometimes old, sometimes young. Perhaps like those cats on the label, the ones with seven (or nine, depending on who you ask) lives.
SGP:466 - 90 points.

Caol Ila 32 yo 1992/2024 (51.8%, Whiskyland, Chapter Five, refill hogshead, 210 bottles)

2024? Once again we’re a little late to the party… Colour: dark straw. Nose: very, very, indeed quite astonishing, almost kicking off with verbena liqueur (Verveine du Velay). Then it moves through a few other herbal and liqueur-like notes (yellow Chartreuse) before settling back into the usual suspects of an old CI—shells, ashes, seaweed, gherkins, toasted sesame oil and even olive oil, which has turned up in several recent drams. It’s really quite perfect so far, let’s say it. With water: almond oil, pistachio oil, olive oil, bitter almonds, candle wax. We like that. Mouth (neat): back comes the olive oil, lemon, ash and smoked fish. It’s razor-sharp, just a touch chalky. With water: magnificently salty and briny, full of peppery ashes and 99% cocoa dark chocolate. In short, the beast holds its ground. Finish: long, fresh, peppery, ashy, always incisive. Comments: it’s no secret that Caol Ila is one of the, if not the peated malt that ages with the most grace, as though it were nearly immune to the passage of time. Here’s yet another piece of evidence.
SGP:466 - 91 points.

Let’s finish with the oldest of them all; for once, we’re bringing a bit of logic to this smoky, salty chaos that’s gone on far too long…

Caol Ila 40 yo 1984/2025 ‘Something in the Water’ (51.3%, La Maison du Whisky, Artist #15, refill hogshead, cask #8484006286, 99 bottles)

A bottle adorned with another splendid piece by Radhika Surana, titled ‘Meandering through Relationships -1’. This certainly takes us far beyond those mahogany-veneered boxes and moulded crystal decanters often wheeled out for malts of this kind of pedigree. Colour: bronze gold. A nail? A patch? Nose: imagine a box of assorted fruit jellies and Turkish delights, some delicately smoked. Quince comes first, then fig, minty marzipan, followed by very floral hay and a few touches of patchouli. This is all infinite refinement and delicacy, and that’s not a polite euphemism to suggest it’s a bit muted—quite the opposite. With water: we dive into vegetal, coastal earth with abandon and delight (really). Mouth (neat): Provençal herbs coated in olive oil, a faint metallic edge that might be a by-product of the colour (inverted synaesthesia in action?) and a rather stunning herbal profile, somewhere between artisanal absinthe (from the Val-de-Travers, naturally) and green Chartreuse this time. Nothing here is quite normal, but it’s all rather marvellous. And brine, naturally. With water: it could almost be an old bottle as much as an old malt; one might even speak of OBE-like flavours after just a few months. We continue to drift along sea herbs. Finish: not very long, but wonderfully herbal, camphory and minty, very much in line with the old liqueurs mentioned above. Comments: a formidable old Caol Ila, marked by time—not a static number, not just a label (remember when ‘age was just a number’ was a thing, pre-crisis?), but time itself indeed, passing. We’ve had some deeply moving old whiskies in recent weeks, haven’t we. Wasn’t it Shakespeare who said only art can defeat time? Not too sure about that, but this bottle and its packaging are certainly magnificent in that regard.
SGP:465 - 91 points.

Very well, we’ll have more Caol Ila soon—perhaps we’ll even manage to reach a thousand different expressions on this wretched little website before too long. Naturally, it would be the first distillery ever to hit that milestone, but all of this probably makes about as much sense as, to parahprase Lord Blackader, a cucumber with roller skates.

Check the index of all Caol Ila we've tasted