Caoly Grail

Sir Andrew – known in bardic circles as Sir Dramalot – wasn’t your average whisky knight. His hygiene? Impeccable. His quest? Eternal. Alongside the noble fellowship of VAME Malts (four brave souls with bladders of steel and palates of gold), he wandered the Lochs, moors and storm-lashed coasts of Scotland for five long years, shouting at seagulls and unladen European swallows and interrogating barrels, hogsheads and butts.

Their goal? To find the One True Caol Ila – the stuff of legends and questionable prophecies, hidden beneath layers of ash, sea spray, and caramel secrets.

Then it happened.

In a warehouse guarded by a sheep named Paul, they cracked a cask that whispered, “Drink me, ye fools.” 

It was smoky but gentle, sweet but salty – like a kiss from a mermaid who’s just stubbed out her cigar. Finished in rye, it brought out pecan nuttiness and a finish longer than the Rest and be Thankful roadworks project.

They stared into their Glencairns, and Sir Andrew proclaimed:

“Lads, we’ve tasted from God's hip flask, and it tastes of smoke, sea, and sin. The angels weep, my hand trembles. Bottle it quick before I drink the whole bloody thing myself!”

Caoly Grail – dangerously good, slightly absurd, and totally worth the quest.