They say you never forget your first time… and that's exactly what happened to me about two years ago on Islay, a small island in Scotland that feels like a world apart from the moment you step off the ferry.
For an avid "whisky enthusiast" like me, it is undoubtedly a journey that resonates deep within, one to undertake and repeat (as has happened just a few months later!). But let's take it step by step, because talking about Islay is always exciting… the pronunciation, first of all. It’s pronounced "aila": the island is surrounded by a rugged coastline and powerful ocean waves, just 40 km from the shores of Ireland.
According to some legends, whisky was born on Islay, and it is said that the first distillation was carried out by Irish monks who landed on the island attracted by its climatic characteristics and the massive presence of peat in the marshy areas. The whisky produced on Islay is a whisky that reflects the characteristics of the island: wild, strong, unique. Here, the "terroir" constitutes the visceral part of the distillate.
Islay whisky truly tastes of the ocean, flooded with iodized and marine peat.
The briny notes, which characterize the true typicality and character of the island, are reinforced by the often impetuous wind of the ocean, which, penetrating the warehouses, covers the barrels with salt. Thus, the maturing whiskies assimilate the habitat that surrounds them: a territory still partly wild, composed of marine peat and marked by the reassuring green of nature. The climatic condition of Islay is unique in the world, and the expressiveness of the whisky that derives from it carries with it a true imprint of briny peat, making it sovereign.
The common identity of the island's distilleries is made up of peat, savoriness, sea breeze, and an organoleptic profile that is sometimes cheeky and brash, which does not ask for permission but bursts onto the scene with the force of an Atlantic wave. A "spirit" where salty notes of seaweed, medicinal touches, and memories of embers and combustion are found.
There is a distillery that I particularly adore: Kilchoman, which has dedicated various bottlings to the enchanting Machir Bay beach, not suited for the faint of heart.
Kilchoman is a farm distillery located on the west coast, and their philosophy is 100% Islay: they oversee the entire production process, from growing the barley to distillation, aging, and bottling. The barley is grown at Rockside Farm, adjacent to the distillery, and malted using the distillery's own malting floor.
I return to Italy and, as a lover of even imperfect and tousled pairings, one evening — in a somewhat Proustian mood — I "reconnected" with Machir Bay, tasting an iconic dram of Kilchoman alongside something local, typical of the region that has hosted me for decades: his majesty, Parmigiano Reggiano. So, I recalled a dairy I had visited before the trip: the Caseificio Parma2064, producer of Parmigiano Reggiano DOP in the heart of Emilia. The cooperative manages every phase of production, from milking to aging. Each 40 kg wheel is marked with the number "2064," an identifier assigned by the Parmigiano Reggiano Consortium.
I take a few pieces of 24 months, I approach, smell, and taste…
Then a bit of Kilchoman Machir Bay, to see how they interact, what happens on a palate level, and above all, what emotions they manage to convey. The Parmigiano, with a good olfactory impact where lactic notes prevail, enriched by yellow flowers and fragrant fruit, manages to dance in a pop style with the peated whisky. The salty meets the umami, the smoke intertwines with the sweetness of aged milk.
It’s a rough and direct hug, not immediately welcoming but one that stays with you. I take my time and savor everything. Because after all, as Sergeant Donowitz said in Inglorious Basterds: “There’s a special circle of hell for those who waste good scotch.”
And I would add: “also for those who leave behind a tasty piece of Parmigiano.”
