I might still write about whisky, but since no-one's reading this anyway, I'm going to write about other things, too.
I met an astonishing woman in the grocery store today. She was probably in her mid- to late-70s. When she saw I only had a couple of items, she wanted me to go ahead of her. I told her I was waiting for the bus anyway and it wasn't as wet inside.
So, she started telling me about her groceries, the trick to shopping at Costco (have a list and leave your plastic at home--only carry cash!) She apologized for having candy canes, she doesn't even like them, but the little ones (grandkids or great-grandkids, I don't know) would be coming over.
Then she told me about the Christmas baking she's doing. She gives most of it away. But this year, her husband, who has liver cancer and might not see another Christmas wants to keep everything. She stood her ground.
Then she said it's not so easy to have the Christmas spirit this year. What with her husband being sick, her daughter just diagnosed with cancer and her sister dying of lymphoma last month.
She has decided no matter how much time her husband has left, she's going to be happy they have that time. And then she apologized to me for nattering on.
I think I'd want a drink.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Why Scotch? Why not!
I haven't posted for a while. Just trying to figure out what to do with this blog more than anything.
I suppose there are some (many, even most) who don't understand the obsessive nature of single malt drinkers. For most people one drink is followed by a few more in hopes of arriving at joviality. But scotch--single malt whisky, if you prefer, like wine and brandy is a joy in the tasting. One is enough to lift the spirit, he punned unapologetically.
But why? That's what I've been thinking over for the past several weeks. This blog was supposed to be something light-hearted, even tongue-in-cheek about Shackleton's whisky. But it occurred to me that was a one-trick pony. So having started the blog, the obvious next step was to use it to try to figure out why I have gravitated to single malt to the virtual exclusion of all other spirits apart from a very occasional glass of wine or beer.
The true afficionados would talk at length about the nose, the taste, the color, etc. etc. While I do appreciate the complexity, I have not made a concerted study of those factors that set one scotch apart from the others. I simply enjoy those aspects and the different families of single malt without being schooled in them. But I used to enjoy a Bushmills and Jack Daniels. While I have kept a single malt Bushmills in the cupboard for nearly ten years, I haven't had a JD for close to two decades.
There are hundreds of experts who will talk about how to drink scotch, but I'm more interested in trying to figure out why I drink scotch. And at last, I think I've figured it out. It's the smoky smell of the peat. I can put my beak into a Glencairn glass for most of the night--it could be an Islay, Highland, Speyside, Lowland. It doesn't really matter. The smoke may be subtle or a three-alarm wet sock laundry. What's important is that a single-malt scotch, with just a drop or two of water is like drinking a good cigar. I haven't been a smoker for nearly 30 years. I don't even miss smoking. But there's something about the smell of smoke in a bottle that signals days end.
It's not an experience designed to liberate the imbiber from his or her sobriety. It's simply a chance to settle back and let one day wind down and recharge for the next. It's a glass of campfire. Single malt isn't so much an experience as a state of mind.
I suppose there are some (many, even most) who don't understand the obsessive nature of single malt drinkers. For most people one drink is followed by a few more in hopes of arriving at joviality. But scotch--single malt whisky, if you prefer, like wine and brandy is a joy in the tasting. One is enough to lift the spirit, he punned unapologetically.
But why? That's what I've been thinking over for the past several weeks. This blog was supposed to be something light-hearted, even tongue-in-cheek about Shackleton's whisky. But it occurred to me that was a one-trick pony. So having started the blog, the obvious next step was to use it to try to figure out why I have gravitated to single malt to the virtual exclusion of all other spirits apart from a very occasional glass of wine or beer.
The true afficionados would talk at length about the nose, the taste, the color, etc. etc. While I do appreciate the complexity, I have not made a concerted study of those factors that set one scotch apart from the others. I simply enjoy those aspects and the different families of single malt without being schooled in them. But I used to enjoy a Bushmills and Jack Daniels. While I have kept a single malt Bushmills in the cupboard for nearly ten years, I haven't had a JD for close to two decades.
There are hundreds of experts who will talk about how to drink scotch, but I'm more interested in trying to figure out why I drink scotch. And at last, I think I've figured it out. It's the smoky smell of the peat. I can put my beak into a Glencairn glass for most of the night--it could be an Islay, Highland, Speyside, Lowland. It doesn't really matter. The smoke may be subtle or a three-alarm wet sock laundry. What's important is that a single-malt scotch, with just a drop or two of water is like drinking a good cigar. I haven't been a smoker for nearly 30 years. I don't even miss smoking. But there's something about the smell of smoke in a bottle that signals days end.
It's not an experience designed to liberate the imbiber from his or her sobriety. It's simply a chance to settle back and let one day wind down and recharge for the next. It's a glass of campfire. Single malt isn't so much an experience as a state of mind.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Whisky lovers, join our quest!
For months, whisky lovers have watched in thirsty anticipation following the discovery of the whisky taken to Antarctica by explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton in 1909. Imagine it! Whisky preserved for a century. Could it be so? The answer is yes! Despite more than ten decades of sub-zero temperatures, the whisky endures. A dram for the ages, as it were.
The question now: Who might be among the lucky few who could sample such a brew? Alas, it seems no-one will.
Instead, samples of the whisky will be used by the current owner of the distillery to recreate this now legendary spirit. The bottles themselves will then be returned to Shackleton's hut in Antarctica to preserve their historic significance.
As laudable as this goal might appear, we are talking about a whisky for which the recipe has long since been lost. Would it not be wise--again for historical reasons--to reserve one of the eleven bottles of this ambrosia for tasting? How else to ensure the replica whisky is true to its 100-year-old sire?
Two crates of the whisky still remain in deep freeze near the South Pole. Would it be such a disservice to history to hold back a single bottle? Perhaps it could be part of a fundraiser to aid in the care of Antarctic historic sites or the Shackleton Scholarship Fund. Whisky lovers around the world could buy lottery tickets for a chance to take part in a comparative tasting. Whisky experts might bid for the opportunity to host such a rare event.
Who's with us? Free The Mackinlay Eleven!
The question now: Who might be among the lucky few who could sample such a brew? Alas, it seems no-one will.
Instead, samples of the whisky will be used by the current owner of the distillery to recreate this now legendary spirit. The bottles themselves will then be returned to Shackleton's hut in Antarctica to preserve their historic significance.
As laudable as this goal might appear, we are talking about a whisky for which the recipe has long since been lost. Would it not be wise--again for historical reasons--to reserve one of the eleven bottles of this ambrosia for tasting? How else to ensure the replica whisky is true to its 100-year-old sire?
Two crates of the whisky still remain in deep freeze near the South Pole. Would it be such a disservice to history to hold back a single bottle? Perhaps it could be part of a fundraiser to aid in the care of Antarctic historic sites or the Shackleton Scholarship Fund. Whisky lovers around the world could buy lottery tickets for a chance to take part in a comparative tasting. Whisky experts might bid for the opportunity to host such a rare event.
Who's with us? Free The Mackinlay Eleven!
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