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.