Nick Offerman On His Third Whisky Collaboration With Lagavulin: The Offerman Edition 11 Year Charred Oak Cask

“My first glass of Scotch was a Lagavulin—neat,” Nick Offerman says, recalling a dram in his late twenties, after years of beer and Irish whiskey. “And I said, ‘Holy Cow! I see what all the fuss is about if this is Scotch.’ And so I was kind of ruined by Lagavulin—from then on, any Scotch that was merely golden or fruity or had, you know, notes of honey, I was, like, ‘What is this boring lemonade? I need a campfire in my glass.’”

Well, park rangers and recreational peated whisky lovers take note—today Lagavulin releases its third collaboration with the 51-year-old actor: Lagavulin Offerman Edition 11 Year Charred Oak Cask ($90), which as its name implies, has the kind of smoke its namesake prizes.

Offerman began working with the 206-year-old Islay whisky in 2014, having promoted it fictionally on Parks and Recreation for years. Coincidentally the favorite spirit of series creator Mike Schur, Lagavulin was the obvious whisky of choice for Offerman’s Pawnee alter ego, Ron Swanson. “By the time we got towards the end of Parks and Recreation,” Offerman says on a phone call from Chicago, “we were in touch with Lagavulin because we were using it on the show enough that at some point, we reached out and said, ‘You know, are you aware that you’re getting millions of dollars of TV time from our show?’”

It turns out they were. “And so we decided to send Ron Swanson up to the Lagavulin distillery to shoot a little storyline there.” In a 2013 episode, Ron makes a pilgrimage to Islay where, as he says, “God’s chosen elixirs are distilled, barreled, and prepared for consumption.”

That introduction at the distillery was the start of a nearly decade-long partnership that has led to a few dozen hilarious My Tales of Whisky videos, the most famous of which features Offerman sitting by a Yule log, sipping Lagavulin and saying nothing—for 10 hours.

The partnership has worked so well, Offerman jokes, “that they ended up sticking my face on the bottle for the Offerman Editions.” The first expression, released in 2019, was an 11-year-old whisky that was heavy on the peat flavor because it’s five years younger than Lagavulin’s 16-year-old flagship whisky. Two years later, the second Offerman Edition was also an 11 year old, but finished in Guinness casks. In 2021, Whisky Advocate named it Whisky of the Year.

And despite having a second career as a fine woodworker—for some 20 years, he has operated the Offerman Woodshop in East Los Angeles, where a collective of woodworkers make tables, chairs, and other household goods—Offerman knows his limits in the whisky world. There will be no custom-made barrels shipped from L.A., though he did read two books on coopering.

“What I learned about coopering is I could learn to build a barrel,” he explains, “but it would take me way too long for something that other people are so good at. So I chose to forego applying to a cooperage for an apprenticeship and instead I just admire them from afar.”

The wood, of course, is where the real whisky alchemy happens. The third Offerman Edition—the “three-peat” if you will—uses American red wine and European oak casks that have been shaved down before being heavily re-charred. Deviating from the previous Offerman Editions, the spirit was fully matured for at least eleven years in these barrels—versus a shorter term cask finishing. The result is Offerman’s smokiest whisky to date, clocking in at 46% ABV. And its devout carnivore creator recommends pairing a dram with a medium rare steak.

While many whisky drinkers can get precious about how a single malt is best enjoyed, Offerman goes with whatever flows. “If somebody makes me a cocktail, I’m happy to have a delicious cocktail,” he says. “Or if they mistakenly serve me a Lagavulin with a couple ice cubes in it—that’s something I would never do—I’m still very happy to receive the gift of a slightly chilled glass of my favorite Scotch.

“I’m blessed with an affable disposition,” he continues, “but I personally just like to have it neat. Usually sitting with friends.”

There’s no punch line coming behind that sentiment. Offerman, who was raised in Illinois and remains close with his family, still can’t believe the serendipity that caused art to imitate life and then inspired a series of eponymous whiskies. “You know, my family and I, we come from very humble working-class origins,” he says, “and so this kind of walking in the tall cotton just has us shaking our heads, laughing and saying, Let’s keep minding our manners and maybe they’ll have us back next year.”