There are only a handful of major Scottish single malt distilleries I’ve never visited, mainly because they’re located on remote islands that require extensive travel. I’ve never been to Highland Park, nor have I toured Talisker, located on the remote and rugged Isle of Skye off Scotland’s western coast.

If you think Skye is remote, then the Isle of Harris might as well be on the moon. Yet, that hasn’t stopped a few dedicated locals from opening a distillery there.

Sitting even further off the mainland, to the northwest of Skye in the Outer Hebrides, Harris—like Orkney—is old viking territory. The name comes from the Old Norse name Harri, yet a little over half of the population still speaks Gaelic.

In the town of Tarbert (not to be confused with the beautiful town of Tarbert on the Scottish mainland), you’ll find about 500+ Harris residents, along with the Isle of Harris gin and whisky distillery. There, you can purchase a bottle of what is, in my humble opinion, the most inspirational and exciting new gin to hit the market since Four Pillars and Monkey 47.

Not only is the bottle absolutely breathtaking, meant to capture the essence of the sea in its appearance, the gin itself expresses the elements of Harris through its infusion of ocean sugar kelp, foraged locally by hand.

Given simply the gin’s origin, process, and breathtaking package, I would’ve purchased a bottle no matter how it actually tasted. But having finally stirred myself an Isle of Harris Martini last night, I can safely say this gin is worth every penny of its price tag.

I’m not sure what I was ultimately expecting, but I was definitely anticipating seaweed and salt. Yet, rather than bowl your palate over with salinity and sushi, the gin pours over your tongue like a delicate and sensual wave of tranquility. It’s incredibly soft and the flavors themselves are gentle and soothing, nuanced in their expressiveness, only revealing their true nature on the finish.

The kelp is most definitely there, but it’s not singular in anyway, nor is it monotone. How does it ultimately taste? It tastes expensive.

And it’s clearly not inexpensive to produce, given what’s required to collect the kelp and distill a base spirit in the middle of nowhere, handcraft one of the most stunning bottles in booze existence, and then transport those bottles off an island that’s not easy to get to.

I’m heading back into work this morning to purchase a CASE for my personal drinking. I’m fully inspired.

-David Driscoll