There are bottles you drink and bottles you sit with. The Lagavulin 1987 Distillers Edition, bottled in 2003, belongs firmly in the second category. Distilled in the late eighties and given sixteen years to find itself before release, this is a whisky that carries the weight of its era — a time when Islay malts were still something of a connoisseur's secret, before the global hunger for peat turned every coastal distillery into a pilgrimage site.
At £750, you are not paying for liquid alone. You are paying for scarcity, for a specific window in time, and for the Distillers Edition treatment — that signature double maturation in Pedro Ximénez sherry casks that Diageo introduced in the mid-nineties. The 1987 vintage was among the earlier expressions to receive this finishing, and bottles from this period have become increasingly difficult to find in any condition, let alone with decent fill levels and intact labels.
Bottled at 43%, this sits at the standard strength for the Distillers Edition range. Some will wish for cask strength — and I understand the instinct — but there is something to be said for a whisky that has been given time rather than proof to make its argument. Sixteen years in oak, followed by that PX finish, should deliver a version of Lagavulin where the famous Islay smoke has been tempered and woven through with dried fruit sweetness. This is the promise of every Distillers Edition: coastal peat married to sherry richness, the salt air of the southern shore meeting the dark sweetness of Andalusia.
Tasting Notes
I won't fabricate specifics where my notes fall short. What I can tell you is that Lagavulin from this period tends toward a denser, more maritime character than modern bottlings. The 1987 vintage would have been produced with the old worm tub condensers still shaping the spirit's heavier character. Expect an Islay malt that leans into its coastal origins — iodine, brine, woodsmoke — layered beneath whatever the Pedro Ximénez casks have contributed over the finishing period. At forty-three percent, the delivery should be gentle enough to let those layers unfold without heat.
The Verdict
A 7.9 feels right for this bottle. It represents a genuine piece of Islay history — a vintage distilled before the whisky boom reshaped production volumes and global demand. The Distillers Edition format, which can sometimes feel like a marketing exercise on younger expressions, makes far more sense with spirit of this age. The PX finishing has time to integrate rather than dominate. What holds me back from a higher score is the price point. Seven hundred and fifty pounds is serious money, and while the rarity justifies the market value, you are paying a collector's premium that outpaces the drinking experience. For someone building a collection of landmark Islay bottlings, this is a meaningful find. For someone who simply wants exceptional Lagavulin, there are better value propositions — though none with quite this provenance.
Best Served
Neat, in a tulip glass, with nothing more than patience. Give it twenty minutes after pouring. A whisky that spent sixteen years becoming itself deserves at least that much of your evening. If you are lucky enough to open this bottle rather than shelf it, do so on a night when you have nowhere else to be — preferably with rain against the window and something worth reading close at hand.
