McClelland's Islay

The other night I went to a friend's party in honor of Burns' Night. This is a traditional celebration, usually held on January 25th, to celebrate the life and work of the national poet of Scotland, Robert Burns. The traditions include singing, reciting poetry, eating haggis, and (of course!) drinking Scotch. Here is a recording of one of the songs we sang, My Heart's in the Highlands. Take a listen and sip your sweetest, and let the Scotch and the Song transport you to the beautiful hills of Scotland...

The party was held at one of the houses in a local cooperative community called Twin Oaks. There were only a handful of people when we arrived, but the table was set for serving.

There was a lad there I had been planning to meet for some time now - McClelland's Islay. I had heard mixed things about him, but wanted to judge for myself. We waited for a few more guests to arrive, and then officially began the evening with the bringing in of the haggis.

As the dish was paraded around the room, a few of the folks took on important roles in this ritual such as the reading, the singing, and the stabbing.

While these things were happening, I joined in with my toast of McClelland. His nose was interesting. It had the elements of smokiness that I look for, but also had a more astringent quality that I have sensed before in some of the other ones I've met. At first taste, I noticed a couple of things I really enjoy in a Scotch - a peaty flavor, and a spicy nature. So I added a bit of water and kept sipping.

The conversation went along quickly enough, but I realized I wasn't that impressed. Something that I didn't find with this lad, was the sweetness that has been a companion element to smoke in most of the Islays I've tried. This made him seem a bit harsh, after all. He also didn't seem to have much depth - the peat and smoke were there, but that was about it. He was very forward and straight-laced - no mystery or complexities in McClelland. I ended my chat with him politely, and we went our separate ways.


The songs and poetry readings continued and I turned my attention to the handsome Laphroaig Select that I had brought to the party. His brother (the 10 year) was also there, but I have no doubts of my affections for him, so decided to focus on the Select.

In contrast to the McClelland, this Laphroaig was such a pleasure to be with. Very smooth, with the smoky and spice blending into the sweetness, creating a warm and comfortable welcome-home type of feeling.

That same feeling seemed to be present among the others as the evening transformed into a night of music with many sing-alongs. Singing in this way together speaks to something ancient and valuable in our souls. If you know the story and can laugh with others, or better yet, sing along to a chorus - a sense of community is born, even among strangers. This feeling of community forms a foundation for all sense of purpose in life. For without a group of others to feel connected to, to what end do any of our efforts ever strive towards?

The night was a success, as much fun was had by all. I believe we did the poet proud as a whole, even if I personally, did not partake in that "Great chieftan o' the pudding-race!"