So, apparently there is a terroir battle between those who smell each soil particle in a glass and those who only smell alcohol and cry “Pour on!” I’m posting Dwight Furrow’s review of the situation, along with Compound Interest’s blog on the aroma of the sea–something particular dear to my heart when I curl up with a Laphroaig or Ardbeg at night and imagine lighthouses, storms, creaking tree limbs, and zombies. I commented on Furrow’s article with 3Quarks Daily, which underscores the difference of peat when you travel from Islay, to Skye, to the Orkney Islands. I’d add that having sampled three bottles from Margaux recently, there’s more gravel in those 2.842 sq miles than the rest of Bordeaux. Sláinte