tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64917624652201849192024-03-13T03:15:13.791-07:00Scotch, Song, & SoulThe journey to find the perfect Scotch...Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-48250924899056911202021-01-08T19:36:00.003-08:002021-01-08T19:57:41.361-08:00Dark Storm, Dark Night<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Time has shifted. Times have changed. The world is not the same. And yet, still, there can be a returning. It's not that I haven't had the taste of a lad's company at all in this time, it's just that for so long the soul of it all seemed to be ... missing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A while back now, a friend of mine happened to meet a new fellow. This was a lad I knew of and had tried to cross paths with, but to no avail. My friend, knowing how much I longed to meet this particular lad, took measures to make it possible. And so I came one evening to find myself alone with my beloved's brother - Dark Storm. <br /><br />
We spoke briefly, this elusive lad and I, and I was intrigued. He stayed with me for a time, but I didn't have the space to really sit down and get to know him. At least not until now. <br />
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What was different? What shifted on this singular evening to open the invitation into a deeper intimacy with a lad who had been around for months and months? I'm not sure if I can say. Maybe it was the moon or the stars, maybe it was a divine calling I finally could hear, or maybe it was simply the muse - deciding on just a whim - that tonight would be the night.<br />
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But there is a fine, faded line between the muse's call and the divine's. I'm not entirely convinced they are not one in the same. St. John the Baptist wrote a poem hundreds of years ago about the call of the divine and the hidden way it works in a soul. It has been called the <i>Dark Night of the Soul</i>. Loreena McKennitt lent to this poem the haunting beauty of her voice and so I offer it here: if you are lost, in a dark place, or simply craving the inspiration and passion you know life must hold for you somewhere - light a candle, pour a dram, and listen to this story... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="385" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/MclLF473XtA" width="513"></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Whatever the cause, there was no denying what my senses were telling me - that this night was special. And I felt a deep drive to protect the sacredness that seemed to be shimmering on the edges of my awareness. There has been so much heartache and confusion lately and to trust in the hope of something different was simply terrifying. My eyes closed, wanting to blur the harsh truth of reality into the gentler truth of the heart - which sometimes is more painful in its poignancy.<p>And yes, something was different - but only for the sake of time. Because as I sat, with candle, music, and a fiery dram of a lad in hand, breathing the scent of him in gently - one word floated to the top of my mind ... homecoming. And soon to follow was a sense of welcoming - a warmth, love, and memories. </p><p>I spent long moments exploring his nose. It reminded me of Storm's smoke. But unlike a roaring blaze, Dark Storm brought to mind instead the potent tendrils rising from red-hot embers, and the afterglow of a night well-lived. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLuDOxl9W0OCozMNJ3LMJaJoCP0RYamrRgmXQZ-G5r3AG7-mhiUJOxCGbGwURApEFwxzEM5pzO3XvWFe7xc6nQpWM5fvboZYby3yPTbyyCxv0mwcsnBVcswvv8wclOojA7D3ycuJklJw/s2048/IMG_0498.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1367" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipLuDOxl9W0OCozMNJ3LMJaJoCP0RYamrRgmXQZ-G5r3AG7-mhiUJOxCGbGwURApEFwxzEM5pzO3XvWFe7xc6nQpWM5fvboZYby3yPTbyyCxv0mwcsnBVcswvv8wclOojA7D3ycuJklJw/s320/IMG_0498.jpeg" /></a></div>Scent of a smokehouse and peppery sea spray mingled with hints of apple and a touch of sour. <p></p><p>I realized I was feeling shy. I took my time before bringing my lips to the glass. Had it been too long? There was magic here once and I had forsaken it, unconsciously. How could I know if my return would be welcome? </p><p>There is sometimes a resistance to returning - even when we know we want to, we <i>need</i> to. Perhaps it's the underlying fear that we'll once again have to leave that which we love. </p><p>But with my first small sip, the chill in the winter's air warmed in my glass immediately, and I found myself smiling and trusting - such a forgotten feeling. </p><p>Dark storm had a buttery, shallow flavor at first. But as we spoke, I realized there was more to him. A whiff of ash here, a sense of sea salt there. After adding a bit of water, he showed me his sweet side, softening a bit and becoming playful and fruity. He had all the layers of complexity of his fairer brother's. But there was something else.</p><p>As the conversation continued, I discovered a hint of bitterness in his demeanor. At one time, this would have turned me off. But now, in these times, after these days, understanding gathers up discomfort like a nest. And I have learned that bitter notes often don't mean what I think. There is something nourishing and healthy within the bitter, just as there is within the darkness.</p><p>Perhaps it is the rich truth of deep authenticity - which can be a balm for the heart's pangs of poignancy. Dark Storm spoke to me of imperfections integrated, saying yes, this is where my fault lines lie. I neither wallow in them nor gloss them over. Take me as you will. </p><p>There is power in returning. We can find it in traditions, rituals, ceremonies. And in the way our hearts resist. I suspect that sometimes it's not the fear of having to leave again that gives us pause, but the deep knowledge that truly, once we return, we will never at all be able to leave again. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZij-QlD6TtUDPSJ_xKvFkoKbPDSgNcZAgE64dZ5nm96kycDVbcjEFKufreOTU0TF4nWLIFOMKCjcRgBdhj3U-orvbIO9WpL4iBBGnfoHuAsSbEQrm-TXqyZD1fJv5QYzReCbFTOh930/s2048/IMG_9466.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1493" data-original-width="2048" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCZij-QlD6TtUDPSJ_xKvFkoKbPDSgNcZAgE64dZ5nm96kycDVbcjEFKufreOTU0TF4nWLIFOMKCjcRgBdhj3U-orvbIO9WpL4iBBGnfoHuAsSbEQrm-TXqyZD1fJv5QYzReCbFTOh930/w460-h336/IMG_9466.jpeg" width="460" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p></div>Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-40933450801878853532018-05-24T09:50:00.001-07:002018-05-24T09:50:27.067-07:00LongingThe restless spirit of spring seeps beneath my skin and I find myself filled with a longing for...more. Is this a passing mood or a recognition of a deeper truth? This question seems to return to me like the seasons: in regular cycles and with fits and starts heralding its arrival.<br />
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This spring has been particularly fitful, full of sudden swings - in temperature and temperaments. Warm days followed by snow, hot days followed by freezing cold rains... The buds emerged but then were covered in frost. At times it almost seemed as if winter was just not going to let go. I suspect it is a common story and part of the natural way of things, despite our collective scoffing and apparent disbelief; change of seasons, change of anything, generally comes with struggle.<br />
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One of the questions caught up in this mysterious spring-time longing was the allure of Lagavulin Distillers Edition. Was it really he that was so enticing, or merely the newness of him? Alice Merton sings about this tension - the pull between standing still and moving on - in one of her songs. If this feeling is familiar, pack a bag with a bottle and a glass, and wander off with the whisky as your guide, listening to <i>No Roots</i>.<br />
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When I first met him I was enthralled, but much time had passed before I had a second meeting. He stayed elusive for a long while, but as winter finally decided to let go of its hold, I found him again. We went back to my home, where I introduced him to a couple of friends. They were curious to meet this debonair fellow I had talked about, so I poured each of us a dram and he and I began to get reacquainted.<br />
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The strong impression I had at our first meeting echoed only faintly in my mind. It had been so long that no specific memories of his personality remained - only a cloaked sense of warmth and fascination. It was almost like meeting him for the first time.<br />
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In the company of friends, I shyly brought the glass to my nose. His scent was strong but non-descript. The first sip was creamy and sweet, if a bit flat. A hint of iodine colored the conversation, but not in a bad way.<br />
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After adding water I didn't notice a big shift. A taste of ash kept things real and grounded; there was substance to this lad. Something that struck me as disappointing, though, was that the sips did not seem to linger. He was warm and sweet, distinguished and reserved, but the sensations faded soon after the glass left my lips. He had character, and I enjoyed our conversation, but...he did not sate my longing.<br />
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One might think that should have been enough to settle the question of what my opinion of him was. But there's a funny thing about longing - it can contain a message on either side of choosing; it can mean that we need to stay, or it can mean that we need to move on. And I'm not entirely sure yet how to tell the difference.<br />
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As is often my way, I turn to nature for inspiration and wisdom. The buds and shoots in their winter slumber may not know, through snow or sun, what they are being called to do, but the way ultimately becomes clear. When the time is right, they know which way to grow. No matter how cold the winter, no matter how tumultuous the turning, the spring always comes. I trust it will be the same with the lads. </div>
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For now, there's still something about Lag 16 Distillers that calls me back. We'll meet another time, for sure, and despite confusion around what it all means. In this uncertain world we travel, often bemused by longing, it is helpful to remember that the uncertainty will pass, and though it may not resolve as we expect - the longing leads to living, and living is always the right choice.</div>
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-81036014891592284432018-03-26T12:34:00.000-07:002018-03-26T12:34:28.161-07:00ImpressionsThe first time I met Lagavulin 16 did not leave me interested to ever see him again. Perhaps I should not have been so quick to write him off after just one meeting, but first impressions tend to linger. I didn't let this distaste spill over into the rest of his family, however. When I met the 8 year, I was very pleasantly surprised, and my recent introduction to the double matured distiller's edition left me absolutely longing for more. <br />
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One way or another, impressions affect us. I recently saw Chamomile & Whiskey in concert and soon after, discovered a song of theirs with the lyric, "everything you love leaves you too soon." It's a reminder to make the best of the moments. If you need help finding the beauty in the fact that all of life is fleeting, pour a dram of your rarest find and take a listen to <i>Impressions:</i><br />
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While I was waiting for the chance to meet up with the distiller's edition again, I remembered that I had a small, single-dram bottle of Lagavulin 16 hiding in the shadows of my shelves somewhere. I decided it was time to give this lad a second chance. Perhaps we got off on the wrong foot, and besides - I might be able to discern a thing or two about the family and get some insights into his brother.<br />
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Lag 16's nose had a distinctive peaty bacon and strong earthiness to it. At first taste, while I still found him sweet, there was a rough edge to his profile that I didn't remember. I was patient with the conversation this time, and let him open up slowly. <br />
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At first, I noticed a sweet woodsy flavor, and a bit of pine. Soon after, a bitter note brushed alongside my awareness. These flavors mingled with a creamy sensation and the spectacular synergy of these elements left me in wonder. <br />
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Adding water brought to mind a sea-breeze of salty foam and a bit of heat. Lag 16 was sweet but not overbearingly so, as I remembered.<br />
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I had missed all of these complexities in my first meeting with this lad, but I was glad to be experiencing them the second time around. Perhaps I have changed, and thus my perspective is different. Either way, these new layers and flavors were in sync with the season; the fresh earthiness of this fellow reflected the stirrings of Spring.<br />
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While I sipped on the spirit inside the walls of my home, the natural world outside was coming alive after its winter slumber. Seeds (that look nothing like the plants they will become) break open into a whole new manifestation of themselves. Sprouts turn into buds or seedlings, and even these cannot always inform us of what is to come. These declarations of growth may go entirely unnoticed, unless you dare to take a second look. The emergence of life in Spring time is rife with miracle. <br />
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Yet inherent within this miracle, and in all life and new beginnings is the promise of death and endings. It's a side of things we don't usually like to consider, but it's the one promise that will always drive home the importance of appreciation.<br />
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The Chamomile & Whiskey song begins with the line: "The sweetness on the breeze from the flowers in bloom, so pretty with you today, they'll be gone in June - darlin' we're all the same way..."<br />
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Not only are the flowers short-lived, comparatively - but our own time to experience them is, as well. And yet that awareness brings a heaviness that can also take away from our enjoyment.<br />
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There needs to be a balance, and the delicate blooms are a perfect metaphor of that fine and fragile line between appreciation and disregard. <br />
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With the season of new beginnings on my mind, I turned my attention back to the whiskey. Lagavulin 16 bloomed in the glass into a full, round flavor of pepper, blackberry and fruitiness. When I first met this lad, I had heard much about him, and I took for granted that he was quite popular. In contrast, when I met his brother, the 8 year - I knew that he might not be around for a while. I wonder if that awareness helped me appreciate him more than I may have otherwise.<br />
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Perhaps. The depth of mystery will go as deep as you want it to. But perhaps some things are just a matter of perspective, a trick of the light, or a chance of impression. Sometimes - maybe more times than not - it all comes down to the timing of how and when we see a thing.<br />
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I finished off the last sip of Lagavulin 16, enjoying him in a way I never would have expected. As I reveled in the fading impressions of the fantastic flavor mix on my tongue, I was grateful for the impermanence of things - especially first impressions. </div>
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-86879038004523998012018-02-13T12:28:00.001-08:002018-02-13T12:28:46.038-08:00Witness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrx80I-7wP_Oo6kEadsqBaCASP2NLQF54XzJ5qx-fLVnNvetpiNskIm49UBELxiNbB6D17c4G7p_bs_hdgaw2MGWYebOgZjVQZwjri2Z7NKoAJ6B5SyhYuVJZhyphenhyphenlE1A_NHlx2BecE9BMw/s1600/IMG_8463.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrx80I-7wP_Oo6kEadsqBaCASP2NLQF54XzJ5qx-fLVnNvetpiNskIm49UBELxiNbB6D17c4G7p_bs_hdgaw2MGWYebOgZjVQZwjri2Z7NKoAJ6B5SyhYuVJZhyphenhyphenlE1A_NHlx2BecE9BMw/s400/IMG_8463.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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After partaking in the birthday cake and sampling the delicious spread of food, it was time to begin meeting the rest of the gentlemen. The first group of whiskies I met at the tasting was such a delight. Even if I wouldn't seek all of them out again, I absolutely enjoyed the first-meeting chats. I wonder if part of the pleasure in meeting these new lads comes from the lack of pressure. It didn't matter if I loved them or hated them because Talisker Storm was waiting at the end of the line for me. </div>
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This is something I've contemplated often - how being sure of someone's presence can greatly increase your experience and enjoyment of life. I wonder if, at the end of relationships, that is not the worst of the heartbreak - losing that <i>someone</i> that you know will be there. Everyone can agree that it's easier to get through hard times when you have support, but not having someone to share your joy with can also bring a deep loneliness that is often unconsidered. </div>
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A friend of mine once said to me, "we all deserve to have a witness to our lives." This simple act can be profoundly healing and powerful. It's a subtle thing, though, and hard to pin down. This new piece, by <b>Danieldyemusic,</b> distills the idea into a beautiful song and melody. So, if you're feeling alone, and suffering because of it - find your trustiest dram, take a listen to this song, and sink into solace, knowing - we all need a witness to our lives at times. Here is <i>Gonna Need a Witness</i>: </div>
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<a href="https://dsound.audio/#/@danieldyemusic/another-original-gonna-need-a-witness" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPDqbzS7I68O9fIPHdB4leGKQsLn21tgZrT6qk4HkSXldMeOCEI2mtaq28MZzefNFeU_IFs71j_khZyYNjhFA5TN6G3cuKDMS_JndwzYJJDgTN9Fn_HqoMNfDVPEUiU2ybw3sevcUPZGQ/s320/danieldyemusic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpl3Lhn9BdUbxTB3i0UOZiRPfIRwAj0KXWndBWflHRWTFsYnB9yVdHhU7UHKdunEyXA8CLKvDn4NYcMX6HwM00h5piFT8v6B8SVvTk2ijbrhSJLU5HbhCJxdK_HaLzOfNdg7t8VepIFk0/s1600/IMG_8472+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1297" data-original-width="398" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpl3Lhn9BdUbxTB3i0UOZiRPfIRwAj0KXWndBWflHRWTFsYnB9yVdHhU7UHKdunEyXA8CLKvDn4NYcMX6HwM00h5piFT8v6B8SVvTk2ijbrhSJLU5HbhCJxdK_HaLzOfNdg7t8VepIFk0/s320/IMG_8472+%25281%2529.jpg" width="98" /></a></div>
Green Spot was next up. I had heard of this lad from Ireland, and almost met him while I was there a few years ago, but a convenient opportunity never really presented itself. He was attractive - a sporty green and white label that was simple, but striking.<br />
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He didn't have much of a nose, but his flavor spoke for itself. Mild and very warm, he had a bit of a bite that kept things interesting and made me smile - the Irish whiskies generally know how to spin a story. Despite this, overall I would say Green Spot was straightforward and no-nonsense. A whiskey you could count on, sure enough.<br />
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Next to meet was Spirit Lab Single Malt. Spirit is a local fellow who I've heard great things about in my travels. He had a mild nose and a warm, smooth personality. His creamy notes blended into his rich persona, exciting the conversation. At the end, he was lovely, if not very complex.<br />
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I was enjoying the atmosphere and the great stories and personalities that I was coming across, but it was getting late. Usually after meeting several new lads, my discernment skills start to fade a bit. So many different noses, notes, and nuances - it gets really hard to keep track! I knew it would soon be time to bring the evening to a close, but there were still a few lads I had yet to meet...and thank goodness I stayed to meet them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAfn-6cmHwlOVbKgCf13QtTp5Ef6gfRfmFWkfOXcOh4cAloRT8Bv76l9OsINIKhEOcp7CXZy0BCMei4O5OCCZ5WilgrzrtdAioPRHs72YNERBSgYzZqJc0DyYiXNZVrTpCypY7IQAJ0_Y/s1600/IMG_8477.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAfn-6cmHwlOVbKgCf13QtTp5Ef6gfRfmFWkfOXcOh4cAloRT8Bv76l9OsINIKhEOcp7CXZy0BCMei4O5OCCZ5WilgrzrtdAioPRHs72YNERBSgYzZqJc0DyYiXNZVrTpCypY7IQAJ0_Y/s320/IMG_8477.jpg" width="213" /></a>Three fine Scotches, distinguished and alluring, stood holding their own at the end of the line. Macallan, Talisker, and Lagavulin. These were high quality lads, and they looked it. Clearly these three would be adored by most folks who were lucky enough to meet them.<br />
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I've always loved the Macallan 12. Although not a smoky Islay, that lad was impossible not to get along with. Traditional, respected, interesting, and delightful. This Classic Cut sibling was reputed to be entirely different. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I was completely intrigued. Strong, with a bit of smoke, CC was much bolder than his brother.<br />
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I was glad to discover that he possessed the traditional and wonderful Macallan family qualities - he was grounded and balanced. Beyond that, though, he had so much more. The aspects that really stood out to me were his sweet and peppery nature and a bit of caramel that lingered, drawing me back for more.<br />
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I smiled lovingly at my beloved Talisker as I moved on to meet the final Scotch of the evening. Lagavulin distiller's edition - double matured. I wasn't expecting too much, but I was curious. I had met the usual Lag brother - the 16, and I wasn't impressed. When I met the younger 8 year, I really enjoyed him, but felt like he still didn't compare to Talisker.<br />
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The man who brought the Lagavulin to the party is a good friend of mine. It was the first time meeting this particular Scotch for both of us. So, we raised our glasses and toasted to a fine evening with food and friends. Sláinte! <br />
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The moment of truth had finally arrived. I approached him carefully, taking time to observe his nose. There were all the important elements - smoke, ash, peat, and an earthiness that I was pleasantly surprised by. He was sweet and smooth and I found myself getting swept up in the conversation. He was mature - balanced, and lovely. After adding a bit of water, he opened up, revealing a warm personality that felt a bit like coming home. As the event drew to a close and the last sips of the evening were whispered between us, Lagavulin brought to mind the nostalgic feeling of a deep enveloping embrace.<br />
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As we all said our goodbyes, I found myself wishing I had met the new Lagavulin at the start of the party. I reunited with Talisker and we went home together, but I was distracted. Thoughts of this wonderful new Lagavulin had me questioning my loyalties. I knew it was only a matter of time before I'd have to put the two of them side by side to really know how I felt. Until then, Talisker will keep me happy. No matter what, he is still a lad that never disappoints, and I am grateful to have him there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQpdH0NT3dyN7-7rL_Nu08ncAjsf_1-IYRI5CtWJTv72Lx9zzdiC-gpHXwmrHiXMnZ_Bm_Vl3WxlMxOPCXZtvHSYey1saTmxgBlf1epPM89WVpKAJxy-lUCPk2OBfnP_yPaCLt0TaTpk/s1600/IMG_8483.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1351" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieQpdH0NT3dyN7-7rL_Nu08ncAjsf_1-IYRI5CtWJTv72Lx9zzdiC-gpHXwmrHiXMnZ_Bm_Vl3WxlMxOPCXZtvHSYey1saTmxgBlf1epPM89WVpKAJxy-lUCPk2OBfnP_yPaCLt0TaTpk/s320/IMG_8483.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-64141851673196817532018-02-03T07:48:00.001-08:002018-02-03T11:10:30.159-08:00Winter's Night<br />
Having been reunited with Talisker, I was enjoying having him at home with me on these winter nights. But for a woman who hates the cold, winter can lead to stir-craziness. So, when a friend of mine invited me to a whisky mixer, I jumped at the prospect. There would be lots of folks and lots of new lads to meet. Naturally, I brought Talisker along to the festivities.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisq7aKD0L4K0w1rBRL-Q_kxKYYO0Ri5S48CGhGqPHnpwQV6_5kU9NMHKk5UeN40TAsWKb4QcfzIzKXtfMQ69DcFPZOVXXJBwQMg6p0x-9wdRPEW1-eXZbrqzO-pNfy_b-4ptlXWCKdJKo/s1600/IMG_8472.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="677" data-original-width="1600" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisq7aKD0L4K0w1rBRL-Q_kxKYYO0Ri5S48CGhGqPHnpwQV6_5kU9NMHKk5UeN40TAsWKb4QcfzIzKXtfMQ69DcFPZOVXXJBwQMg6p0x-9wdRPEW1-eXZbrqzO-pNfy_b-4ptlXWCKdJKo/s400/IMG_8472.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Besides great conversation and new whisky to meet, there was a beautiful pot-luck spread of delicious foods. It turns out it was the host's birthday, so there was also chocolate cake. We lined up all of the bottles in general order of strength and smokiness. Talisker was at the smoky end, second only to a new Lagavulin brother I had yet to meet.<br />
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Winter nights have long been a source of inspiration and stories. There's a song that I've recently learned that speaks to this. The lyrics mention drinking wine, but I'm sure Scotch would suffice for the same purposes. Hopeless romantics everywhere, grab a dram of your best and listen to Kent Gustavson's version of <i>Rovin' on a Winter's Night:</i><br />
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<a href="https://dsound.audio/#/@drkent/rovin-on-a-winters-night-drinkin-good-ol-wine" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWb-NcfIHgVsfXnayCFZ5g0fP9lvwJIeKBkNZYnqi7LQU09ww0CHVf0z5cDMX90AAp9d16qxCWBuFhdSq9SwujJFM1FCvgyAbcPrRYfyfgxTHU7YuS5_sBCVjcGGOtCsG9S8ElaDQxxXU/s320/drkentrovin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIIbBlVJMqrbdPGTM6GrMXg68hro9tekE9ZMzRDwyQjwIvQzxU5P_cr44l-DvmRUuPZl3cn0H319RFMUffXrWgBy1OtJ0VX536ENvciB7jwJMvlJCawMfShSeHLZBZFGm6aRoUBxWj_8/s1600/IMG_8466.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIIbBlVJMqrbdPGTM6GrMXg68hro9tekE9ZMzRDwyQjwIvQzxU5P_cr44l-DvmRUuPZl3cn0H319RFMUffXrWgBy1OtJ0VX536ENvciB7jwJMvlJCawMfShSeHLZBZFGm6aRoUBxWj_8/s200/IMG_8466.jpg" width="133" /></a></div>
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I started with Knob Creek, the first in the line-up. A bourbon in a short bottle, he was mild and sweet. He had a bit of a bite, like burnt sugar and a little bit of salt and pepper to him. While I was chatting with KC, I met Margaret who was actually on her first official whiskey date. Having never really met any of the Scotch lads, bourbons, or Irish whiskeys, she was jumping in with both feet and having introductions to all of them this evening. I briefly reminisced on my first whisky tastings, and assured her she would have a wonderful time.<br />
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There were a couple of other bourbons besides Knob Creek, and even though I knew I wouldn't really hit it off with any of them, I didn't want to be rude. So, I introduced myself to all of them, in turn. Old Forester was distinguished looking in his simple, straightforward bottle. He was mild and kind, but I didn't spend much time with him before moving on.<br />
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Next there was a local fellow from Kopper Kettle. He and his brothers were at the <a href="http://singlemaltmuse.blogspot.com/2017/12/" target="_blank">Women Who Whiskey</a> event back in November, but I didn't really get a chance to speak with them. His nose was a bit floral with notes of cream. I enjoyed our chat and he was sweet, of course, as most bourbons are. I also noticed a musk overtone and hints of pine. Overall he was a lovely gentleman.<br />
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While I was getting to know the last of the bourbons in the line up, I met one of the other guests at the gathering. Aaron, a true bourbon fan, told me fun stories from his childhood growing up in Kentucky. We exchanged praises of our favorite liquors, and when I told him of my love for Talisker, he admitted that he wasn't much for the Scotch lads.<br />
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This made sense though, since the distillery was such an integral part of the area he grew up in. During Christmas time, he and the other children would travel there to meet and take pictures with Santa. You can't really compete with the notstalgia of childhood memories when it comes to picking a favorite spirit. When I asked his personal favorite? Aaron had a hard time choosing, but picked 4 Roses Bourbon. Sadly, that particular whiskey wasn't at the party, but I made a mental note to keep an eye out and have a chat with him should our paths cross.<br />
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Next up was a very exotic specimen. The tallest and thinnest of the line up was Brenne French Single Malt. I didn't even know you could find a single malt from France. I didn't think they did that kind of thing in the country, but there he was, looking smart with his blue label and standing proud with his neck stretching far above the others. I doubt I'd find the chance to meet such a one as him again, so this was a wonderful opportunity. He was very different from any of the other single malts I've ever tried.<br />
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A fresh pineapple and banana nose flowed into a soft and complex flavor of fruity vanilla. Adding water strengthened his nose and revealed more flavors such as citrus and peanut. It almost made me think of juicy fruit gum. He was lighthearted and shy - very surprising, but such a delight to chat with.<br />
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It was time for birthday cake, and I thought it would be wise to take a break and enjoy some of the fantastic looking food. There were still several lads to meet, and I knew things would get interesting. I realize that Lagavulin 16 didn't impress me much, but I was fond of his younger brother - the 8 year. So, all night at this party I couldn't keep myself from eyeing their older brother, the Double Matured Distiller's Edition. At the end of the line, next to Talisker Storm, the Lagavulin stood patient and nonchalant; but I couldn't wait to meet him...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxDJJlLUwoAvyM3Ul6FLVxd-jJEL5aTjf9-KXZuokdamDfhwQMFIjooJFu7jGYwtB44H6gG235ybZGh7D82597H93ssp58W0l2lX6hon4Ux2vcr0XaTh_T9jE3F6_wsH5GJH-XLNskEE/s1600/IMG_8484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRxDJJlLUwoAvyM3Ul6FLVxd-jJEL5aTjf9-KXZuokdamDfhwQMFIjooJFu7jGYwtB44H6gG235ybZGh7D82597H93ssp58W0l2lX6hon4Ux2vcr0XaTh_T9jE3F6_wsH5GJH-XLNskEE/s320/IMG_8484.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-7702220127288568152018-01-15T15:50:00.001-08:002018-01-19T19:33:47.398-08:00I Wanna Get Better<br />
On New Year's Day, a couple of friends and I went on a short winter romp through some hiking trails. It's a lovely tradition that started last year, and I hope it continues for many years to come. There's a certain magic to the beginning of a new year - in a way it's like the birth of a new companion. Taking a walk in the winterness of January 1st feels like an introduction to this new friend that has entered into my life. Time will tell exactly how this year's personality will unfold and reveal itself, but it only seems proper to officially introduce myself in this way.<br />
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January is also a month rife with resolutions and hopes for change. Unlike many, I really love resolutions and I think New Year's Day is the perfect time to start them. A song I've heard recently feels fitting with its talk of mistakes and the yearning to grow. In this newly born year, if you haven't made any resolutions of your own yet, grab a pen and paper, a dram of something spicy, and listen to <b>Bleachers'</b> <i>I wanna get better</i>:<br />
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Soon after the hike, I had an impromptu meeting with a friend of mine I don't often get to see. I didn't know which lads would be at the bar she suggested, but I was confident I'd find someone enjoyable to talk to. Turns out I was right. </div>
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We headed over to The Shebeen, which has been a favorite of mine since I moved to town. They had a few Scotches on the shelf, and I quickly spotted the lad I wanted to have.<br />
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The lovely bartender, Simone - graciously agreed to allow me to take her
picture, even though I didn't have a good camera with me. She poured me
a dram of the lovely local whisky - made from Scottish barley brewed
overseas, but then aged and finished here in Virginia.<br />
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Virginia Distillery's Highland whisky is one that I've met and chatted
with on several occasions. Since our first surprise meeting at the <a href="http://singlemaltmuse.blogspot.com/2016/07/shake-your-boogie.html" target="_blank">Blues Festival</a>,
I was really impressed by this lad. I've been meaning to find some
quality time with him to really get know the deeper aspects of his
personality.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCbGBOtnTbqHvJ6UevqSBNJSa36BFCS1llUvrdtVtbICExr-NZP9V0m5CX7VGovI6CLKw5mGS1s8F_DToWOCJZAOS_DEQvmsLZbbqeixL4fdatZU10XMieLSHh3yNFhGfW8sl3g83l2k/s1600/20180103_174409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaCbGBOtnTbqHvJ6UevqSBNJSa36BFCS1llUvrdtVtbICExr-NZP9V0m5CX7VGovI6CLKw5mGS1s8F_DToWOCJZAOS_DEQvmsLZbbqeixL4fdatZU10XMieLSHh3yNFhGfW8sl3g83l2k/s320/20180103_174409.jpg" width="180" /></a>His nose immediately struck me with caramel, sweetness, and a hint of
burnt sage. I sighed into the glass - regretting that it had taken so
long to discover these things about him. The first sips revealed much of
what I remembered - he was smooth, warm, and gentle. I was thrilled at
how this night was beginning. Continuing the exchange with VA
Highland, I turned to my friend and we started to catch up. <br />
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We reminisced about last January when we met up to do much of the same - chat with the lads and catch up on each others' lives. We were both so hopeful, at the beginning of 2017, for what the year would bring. This time, talking about the differences between now and then, I named what felt distinctly different to me: in hindsight, last year's drive for change came from a much more desperate place. This year the drive is pure determination.<br />
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Change can come from desperation or determination, but with determination, your odds are better. </h4>
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We toasted to good things ahead and decided to order dinner. I was excited to eat one of my absolute favorite dishes in town - the Sadza Cakes. These lovely corn polenta steaks are served with sautéed spinach, snow peas, sundried tomatoes, a delicious buttery lemongrass sauce, and the whole thing is topped with parmesan shavings. Disappointment is never part of the experience.<br />
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I turned back to the Highland to see how he paired with the magnificent medley of flavors, and he did just fine. As I sipped along, I found more elements of his own personality revealed. There were notes of cinnamon, ash, and smoke. His nose opened to sweet banana. There was a flatness to the finish which I noticed, but it didn't lessen my enjoyment because the flavor stayed firm otherwise. At the very end I noticed bitter and a bit of lemon. He was much more complex than I expected.<br />
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My friend and I talked more while we ate and enjoyed our beverages. We realized that in many ways our situations had improved in the last year, and that was encouraging. It was lovely to find time to reconnect with both my friend and the VA Highland, but the hour grew late, and we all had to head our separate ways.<br />
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Whatever the reasons or motivations, deciding to strive towards growth and improvement is usually a good idea. Resolutions are a great way to do this, but the most important thing to remember is that you need to show up. For friends, for life, or for the newborn year - you have to show up to meet them and see what they might have in store. The rest you can figure out along the way.<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-37348702313780912882017-12-30T13:54:00.000-08:002017-12-30T14:09:37.682-08:00End of the JediThe end of year holiday season always brings a bustle of activity. Parties, shopping, travel, family, decorating, baking, eating, drinking...<br />
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It's quite the whirlwind, even for the most grounded of people. And being grounded is not something I'm usually accused of. Even though I've been working on simplifying my life, I did not quite escape the frenzy. However, as I found myself whisked about here and there between the currents of traditions, obligations, and nostalgia, I was somehow able to maintain a sense of calm through it all.<br />
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One of the highlights for me from the past couple of weeks was seeing the new Star Wars movie - <i>The Last Jedi</i>. In listening to bits of the soundtrack, I stumbled upon a young composer who writes his own music in the style of various popular culture themes. This poignant piano piece touches that calm, soft place within that is perhaps what allows us to find guiding stars in the swirling night: <i>End of the Jedi</i> by <b>Lucas King.</b><br />
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I met with a few friends at the new Alamo Drafthouse. I had never
been to one of these movie houses before, and I was looking forward to
being served a dram directly at my seat while I watched the story of the Resistance unfold.<br />
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The theatre was bedecked appropriately with a blow-up R2D2 and Darth Vader and a Christmas tree covered in various Star Wars themed ornaments with several mini light sabers, to boot. There were also several fans dressed in various costumes milling about.<br />
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I had read the menu ahead of time and was excited to enjoy the company of a good ol' Islay - Oban 14. When we <a href="http://singlemaltmuse.blogspot.com/search?q=oban" target="_blank">originally met</a> I knew that nothing significant would come of it, but it was good to reconnect with him - a stout and smoky lad. The lights went down before I had a chance to snap a picture, but he was a warm and delightful companion to watch the movie with.<br />
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A couple of days later, it was time for Potter's Craft Cider's annual Wassail. This event is a young tradition that I am proud to have been a part of since its creation, four years ago. In past years it has been very rainy, but this year the sun was shining and the skies were clear. It was cold, but more brisk than bitter - the perfect weather to enjoy the last bit of autumn with the fresh scent of apples and cider drifting in the air.<br />
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This perfect day was made more so by the delicious food
provided by Bo Hatchet Catering. This was my first time trying their
food, and I was thoroughly impressed. Their veggie option was butternut
squash soup, topped with cream and roasted sage, and served with
jalapeño corn bread. It was superb. </div>
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For drink, I opted to go with <b>Potter's Craft Highland Cider</b>, which is aged in VA distillery's Highland Malt Whisky barrels. Those barrels initially hold bourbon as it ages, then the sweet seasoned wood is filled with whisky brewed and distilled in Scotland, and finally the barrels give of themselves again to age the cider.<br />
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I sipped slowly, and contemplated the molecular level swirls of interactions - between whisky, wood, and cider. The sun began to set, and I found myself in one of those moments of
calm. Grateful for the nourishing comfort food, the music, the friends,
and the festivities - I marveled at the beauty of tradition and
connection. <br />
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That same night was a work party that I wasn't exactly excited about attending, but I promised one of my coworkers that I'd introduce her to a Scotch. The menu wasn't extensive, but Glenlivet would be there. I knew he was a decent enough lad to enjoy a conversation with, and I thought he was also mild enough for a first timer.<br />
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The party was at Wild Wing Cafe and the kind waitress, Jeanie, obliged me by posing with the Scotch. She poured two drams and I brought one over to my friend. My friend took one small sip...and then walked the other way. She had no interest in him.<br />
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I sighed, remembering a phrase I often say: <i>you don't develop a taste for whisky until the burn of your life makes the burn of the whisky pale in comparison.</i> I wouldn't say she's had an easy life, but she is young yet and clearly not ready for the whisky.<br />
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I also drank a beer that night - Goodwood's Bourbon Barrel Stout. It was quite delicious, and again I thought of those currents that run between. I wondered if the barrel used to age the beer I was drinking then might have also crossed paths with any of the other spirits I'd had in the past days.<br />
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The next week things ramped up: to-do lists grew while the time passed quickly. Thankfully, life - as does nature - provides us up with opportunities for balance. As I swirled through the days and activities, I found myself tapping into a deeper rhythm. Like the eddies in rivers and rapids, the hectic pace of our days naturally will ebb and flow, and if we pay attention we can catch those little calm spots where sometimes the current stands still or even flows back.<br />
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There are respites built into the fabric of things, if only we decide to find them. </i></h4>
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I found one of these eddies at an impromptu meeting with another friend of mine. We stopped by BJ's, a new taphouse in town, and it turns out they had a Scotch I hadn't yet tried - <b>Glenfiddich 14 - Bourbon Barrel Reserve</b>. I also ended up running into another friend I hadn't seen in a while, completely randomly.<br />
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It reminded me of how we need to make space in our life for the hands of serendipity to reach us. It's not just for our sanity that we must find the eddies amongst the rapids, it's for our greater destinies. It's in the calm and gentle swirls of quiet moments with friends, with our thoughts, with our dreams - that's where we find the resources to leap back out into the fray and continue on our journeys.<br />
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Perhaps it was the influence of the season, but this Glen tasted a bit like Christmas to me. The smoke and spice were there, but also a bit of salt or brine, and a hint of pine. <br />
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The next day I traveled back home. I found that even the time spent there, while generally hectic and overwhelming, did not seem to unsettle me as much as it usually did. In fact, I had a wonderful time seeing family and friends, filled with laughter and love.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDonzL5fmreE9IyGm5JVLVg_1GER6tUKrYHtkrrr5qkB1oiRFcJmU0vDbg7iJJtlbtZvDVlvHXqwIEdM6RKhFNEeMdTGEkL4hyNBOXK_RYcQYSNRBfFiiAUs3H8nUM2heKIk2DIvxm3AI/s1600/IMG_8284.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDonzL5fmreE9IyGm5JVLVg_1GER6tUKrYHtkrrr5qkB1oiRFcJmU0vDbg7iJJtlbtZvDVlvHXqwIEdM6RKhFNEeMdTGEkL4hyNBOXK_RYcQYSNRBfFiiAUs3H8nUM2heKIk2DIvxm3AI/s320/IMG_8284.jpg" width="213" /></a>On Christmas morning I was surprised and warmed by the sight of Talisker Storm under the tree - he had come home to me, and I was so happy to see him.<br />
<br />
Perhaps it is the impending end of the year or perhaps it is the poignancy of traditions, in general. But it seems there are pauses and moments that want us to find them. Those little safe havens amidst the rapids of life that we long for - somehow also seem to long for us. Don't deny those moments, because then you deny yourself, as well. Go to them, take a bottle of your favorite dram, and rest in those spaces before heading out into the rapids of life again.<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-51902010785091642512017-12-16T09:51:00.000-08:002017-12-16T09:51:57.672-08:00Women Who Whiskey - Part II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOHTOC9nM6uj8_wdC2Y9Ar5YJVeYUedDk2RCDGp8-EhmjCtcuijHF8f726mXHhUz4-UEaEGcc7O0fuVBRM4Y2gPXFzFQjwxA8NpH2f41KfiLXNF_DCChL7rUKitucOX2szd1bqEr_cg8/s1600/IMG_7985.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="911" data-original-width="1600" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigOHTOC9nM6uj8_wdC2Y9Ar5YJVeYUedDk2RCDGp8-EhmjCtcuijHF8f726mXHhUz4-UEaEGcc7O0fuVBRM4Y2gPXFzFQjwxA8NpH2f41KfiLXNF_DCChL7rUKitucOX2szd1bqEr_cg8/s400/IMG_7985.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
The Women Who Whiskey event was, very simply, a great time. (<a href="https://singlemaltmuse.blogspot.com/2017/11/women-who-whiskey-part-i.html" target="_blank">Read about part I here.</a>) It was well run and organized and at the same time very laid back and comfortable. Sometimes life gives us these little treats of a day: feel-good weekend afternoons with good music, good friends, and good spirits. You can't go wrong with a mix like that, really. Like a classic dance song, it's guaranteed to lift the mood of those who come along.<br />
<br />
If you're feeling a little ho-hum and need a change, call a friend, grab a dram, and listen to this ageless number by by Blue Swede - <i>Hooked on a Feeling</i>:<br />
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It was a beautiful Fall day with clear skies and mild temperatures. A little chill on the air reminded us that winter was near, but the sunshine and blue skies assured us that it was not there yet. After my friend and I met a few of the local fellows and listened to some live music from the band, we were hungry. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFguujboOo1LlGj2-pPKUIFwAkq35r8ANIUQ9M3zUtyVBNf16rZi132eQ70xQrIarAA0g-Zfuej9YPSEIU18M3_VXePyBf75udMeJyItet1ccqAm2TWTDx2Llu4pprxXIhSuW8p2ghss/s1600/IMG_7978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="879" data-original-width="1600" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIFguujboOo1LlGj2-pPKUIFwAkq35r8ANIUQ9M3zUtyVBNf16rZi132eQ70xQrIarAA0g-Zfuej9YPSEIU18M3_VXePyBf75udMeJyItet1ccqAm2TWTDx2Llu4pprxXIhSuW8p2ghss/s400/IMG_7978.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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There were two wonderful food truck options available to us: Blue Mountain Grill and Spiked Booze Infused Sliders & Subs. It was hard to decide, but I finally went with the veggie tacos from the Spiked Truck and the Pumpkin Cheesecake from Blue Mountain. My friend got the soup and grilled cheese from Blue Mountain. It was all fantastic. <br />
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One of the coolest parts about the event was meeting all the interesting
folks who were tasting and pouring the whiskeys and other spirits. There were also a few booths offering edible wares. The good feeling vibe pervaded every stop we made. It was clear that the folks there were passionate about their craft, whichever it was.</div>
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At many of the booths, it was the owners or creators of the companies offering samples. It was quite a treat to meet, first hand, the very person(s) who created the spirit I was about to meet or the food I was about to eat. <br />
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We met Izzy from Caramont Farm, and John and Nancy from Goodwin Creek Bakery. It was hard to choose, but my friend and I both decided to buy a baguette for the trip home. <br />
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Bill from KO distilling was there with several of his fellows. His name tag identified his position of "Thirst Responder," which I found very clever and amusing. Through conversation I also realized that he was one of the founding partners of the distillery.<br />
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I introduced myself to two of the whiskies - the Virginia Moon White Whiskey and their newest - Bare Knuckle Bourbon. The White Whiskey was intense, as Bill warned me he would be. I accepted the offer to temper this one with a bit of pineapple juice. The Bourbon, though, was smooth peppery spice with a musky finish. This newest addition to the KO family fit right in with the theme of the event. The front label features a historical woman who was a boxer, and the back label offers homage to women, in general, who have fought for their families, their voices, and their dreams.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9AW8d-JNEKjMUsC6BHMAWHJGWFJFSGOq14-WWlLwmSjpL249H_Efz9irXbuF8h9ql1f2z0iUTezWY2AE8CtF6YB6SkYnTe8Gj9zZA5HrNua4xPzhL1e581ZueQfAFoN2xP9E1V-Bjx-c/s1600/IMG_7984.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1391" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9AW8d-JNEKjMUsC6BHMAWHJGWFJFSGOq14-WWlLwmSjpL249H_Efz9irXbuF8h9ql1f2z0iUTezWY2AE8CtF6YB6SkYnTe8Gj9zZA5HrNua4xPzhL1e581ZueQfAFoN2xP9E1V-Bjx-c/s320/IMG_7984.jpg" width="278" /></a><br />
As we sat listening to music, we met a woman who had done all of these things. Diana was a new business owner having recently added entrepreneur to her other titles of veteran and mother. She told us
of her confectionery creations, and a little of the story behind the
inception of her business, <i><a href="https://www.lilliepadcreations.com/" target="_blank">Lillie Pad Creations</a>. </i>- "<b>If you don't find
what you love, you're just gonna die</b>."<br />
<br />
Lately I've been hearing this
sentiment from more and more people. There seems to be a collective
awareness rising about the importance of following your passion.<br />
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<br />
Looking
around at all the people at this event who are bravely entering into
the risky venture of running their own businesses, it was inspiring.
Some of the businesses have been around for generations and some are barely a few years
old, but there is that common bond. The road is the same, even if
they are at different points along it, and one can act as mentor for another. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMHfjjBPWkBbT67myux0z84lBWrEMuPvHNlLGcZiHqqX6SND4vebP_-WJOmN-ClgoIyQnXRXCehc7q9m8QCSMy7kjoo7FbvkzOwcPjT2j9Td4H2oFJsqGa4hWGMwNzhsBCZ-pge2MLpc/s1600/collage-2017-12-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="392" data-original-width="730" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoMHfjjBPWkBbT67myux0z84lBWrEMuPvHNlLGcZiHqqX6SND4vebP_-WJOmN-ClgoIyQnXRXCehc7q9m8QCSMy7kjoo7FbvkzOwcPjT2j9Td4H2oFJsqGa4hWGMwNzhsBCZ-pge2MLpc/s400/collage-2017-12-13.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">The importance of having a mentor or
guide in ventures such as this cannot be underestimated; forging a path
down these roads is always challenging, and often risky.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNj-uUJ6pgWiEuE2lgmNCFLkDrvOYQl3DNQ_jAGhZO4mEY4T8ngfSjj3GuQxTLSt5DOY45YaCElh8GtaxBWDyghxHHWjCUetZj80zRx-2HXZ0XjxvJrA7-XkQCw2HaC2bBrhTLJZ1AK9c/s1600/IMG_8041+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1233" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNj-uUJ6pgWiEuE2lgmNCFLkDrvOYQl3DNQ_jAGhZO4mEY4T8ngfSjj3GuQxTLSt5DOY45YaCElh8GtaxBWDyghxHHWjCUetZj80zRx-2HXZ0XjxvJrA7-XkQCw2HaC2bBrhTLJZ1AK9c/s320/IMG_8041+%25281%2529.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">And yet, you can't let that stop you. As Diana told us, you need to find what you love. I would take that a step further, as well. You need to find what makes you come alive...and then you've got to go and do it. </span><br />
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<i> </i></h4>
<h4 style="text-align: center;">
<i> Success is guaranteed to no one, but
if you never try, it's guaranteed that you'll never succeed.</i></h4>
<br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;">As I contemplated these thoughts, we continued to visit the different booths and meet more of the local fellows. At the Vitae both, </span><span style="font-weight: normal;">I tasted the Golden Rum, which was sweet and creamy. It probably would
have paired well with the pumpkin cheesecake, but my timing was off and I
finished the rum before the cheesecake showed up.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMr6SY6X4kU-xFZEreKtbBKVV_HKi4ge7yV3DNxVETn-6FWTtKB_szv_1G8qlQxxr4W_TQ42ohEHuSLtLjoJhdTqUHp__OKmDJ7XeD05ewBRg3VeVJYEfNqpu6mcXZJre1-sz6S3D1Nw/s1600/IMG_8023+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1210" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihMr6SY6X4kU-xFZEreKtbBKVV_HKi4ge7yV3DNxVETn-6FWTtKB_szv_1G8qlQxxr4W_TQ42ohEHuSLtLjoJhdTqUHp__OKmDJ7XeD05ewBRg3VeVJYEfNqpu6mcXZJre1-sz6S3D1Nw/s320/IMG_8023+%25281%2529.jpg" width="241" /></a><span style="font-weight: normal;"> One of the last stops I made in the day was to the A. Smith Bowman booth. Jacob and Tori, who were pouring, introduced the selection of brothers with the boast of being the oldest legal distillery in Virginia. I try not to let lineage impress me too much when I meet a new whiskey, but the next fact they told me about peaked my curiosity. Bowman's Single Barrel Bourbon is the first whiskey ever to win the "World's Best" competition two years in a row. There's a lot to be said for consistency and quality in that statement. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;">There were a few others there I wanted to meet as well but it was getting late in the day, and I had the conversations of the many new fellows I met swirling in my head. I had a short conversation with the esteemed Single Barrel Bourbon and I was quite impressed, to be honest. He was smooth, sweet, and balanced. I knew I'd have to make plans to meet him (and his Port Finished brother) in the near future.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-tR_Q22QfpeF5Amn0IqPQ-f8RX55YmkFHcTQ4yIRb7tHybaTA2qeEP2H7Vn8lxO0WW3AP26mqgkdDVxJdEAHQtF96f3C59_BEvTaNkuZ0JyIGgh2zC036RbWYVRm9vj4dupVM0HFWaU/s1600/IMG_8017+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN-tR_Q22QfpeF5Amn0IqPQ-f8RX55YmkFHcTQ4yIRb7tHybaTA2qeEP2H7Vn8lxO0WW3AP26mqgkdDVxJdEAHQtF96f3C59_BEvTaNkuZ0JyIGgh2zC036RbWYVRm9vj4dupVM0HFWaU/s400/IMG_8017+%25281%2529.jpg" width="266" /></a><span style="font-weight: normal;">Soon after, we realized that sunset was near and it was time to go. I took one last quick walk around to at least shake hands with some of the fellows I didn't get a chance to chat with: the Kopper Kettle boys from Belmont, the group from Chesepeake Bay, and the lone rogue from Ironclad.</span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Happy and sated, my friend and I gathered our wares and headed back for the bus ride with Earl. As we neared the end of our journey, the Blue Swede song came on the bus radio and we all sang along. It was a perfect ending to the day. </span><br />
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Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-43735249168415823842017-11-26T20:36:00.000-08:002017-11-26T20:54:15.475-08:00Women Who Whiskey - Part I<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love the Scotch lads, and the journey to find the perfect Scotch has been amazing. With the recent scarcity of Talisker Storm, however, it has occurred to me that perhaps I should broaden my horizons. There are lot of whiskeys of different styles, tastes, and backgrounds, right here in my own state. Maybe spending more time with the fellows closer to home would be a refreshing change.<br />
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So when I heard of a nearby event - <i>Women Who Whisky</i> - this seemed like a perfect opportunity. There would be eight different local distilleries represented, each presenting a few different gentlemen, at least. Local options never fail to impress when it comes to music, so I expected it would be the same with the whiskey. The Sally Rose Band is a perfect example of the amazing local music that is around this area.<br />
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Sally is a talented musician, songwriter, and performer. Her music is funky and jazzy with beautiful southern soul melodies, and her band was scheduled to play at the whiskey tasting event. It was promising to be a wonderful time. I asked a friend to come along with me, and we planned to go for the day. Have a taste of what's local and listen to the Sally Rose Band perform <i>Bones:</i><br />
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The event was very well planned and organized. It was hosted at Virginia Distillery, and run by the Virginia Distillers Association. Parking was off site, and we were shuttled by Cville Hop On Tours a few miles down the road to the tasting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEaowScLornP8pLyE9oBv77GPE8pewCio8BZUKnaVuYRpORJQkyoMrSjcwfJB9bgE8FY4_iJpsuZl-MJxMc9zfBwlsoaUh5pfgonXk-hFjdhok_HctJry4Y-QYChWIL6qlp1UZX8QdrEk/s1600/IMG_7909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="557" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEaowScLornP8pLyE9oBv77GPE8pewCio8BZUKnaVuYRpORJQkyoMrSjcwfJB9bgE8FY4_iJpsuZl-MJxMc9zfBwlsoaUh5pfgonXk-hFjdhok_HctJry4Y-QYChWIL6qlp1UZX8QdrEk/s320/IMG_7909.jpg" width="320" /></a>Every single person who was part of this event was super friendly. Our first experience of this was with Earl, the driver who shuttled us to the warehouse where the tasting was being held. His bus was bedazzled in stickers from all of the distilleries, breweries and vineyards he had travelled to.<br />
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The weather was great, the passengers were in good spirits, and it really set a great tone for the rest of the day. We were ready to meet some great new whiskies and have an amazing time doing it.<br />
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Something that I noticed right away about a lot of these local fellows, is that they were very natural. Many of the distilleries try to use only local ingredients and often organic as well. This is very impressive to me.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgRjf9erjJ6r_j_v_7Fevshq3cliJ8-Q48-TY3oSPBiH5DIB344tUn9Mq7Rx3dXykZ1pfFXfM2Yqn4WJduf603yNNBAQP5FUFUViNjo0I4dHqSlP2SaLTMYTblqJKlXvSdCEouMpkpN8/s1600/IMG_7911.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="326" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNgRjf9erjJ6r_j_v_7Fevshq3cliJ8-Q48-TY3oSPBiH5DIB344tUn9Mq7Rx3dXykZ1pfFXfM2Yqn4WJduf603yNNBAQP5FUFUViNjo0I4dHqSlP2SaLTMYTblqJKlXvSdCEouMpkpN8/s320/IMG_7911.jpg" width="231" /></a>The first group we decided to meet was the Belle Isle brothers. Made from 100% organic corn, there were four there: Their original premium moonshine, ruby red grapefruit, honey habanero, and cold brew coffee flavors. I started with the original. A clear spirit, and its taste was sweet and spicy, sharp and creamy.<br />
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The first impression was a good one. My friend started a conversation with the coffee fellow, and I butted in a bit. One sip of the coffee moonshine, and I was enamored. But this was just the first stop. It was early in the day, and there were lots more boys to meet. We thanked the folks and moved on.<br />
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We moved to the other side of the room, trying to find the least crowded table, and we came to meet Kyle of Dickie Brothers Orchard. My friend noticed the circa 1750 on their banner and inquired about that very impressive date. We learned that the land was originally sold to the family by King George II and the farm has stayed family-owned for 8 generations.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzcmxfbyyl_hXdI8G8TCCWS9BtECZ9BLsI-dbTCeoiD5PzGIqU612Tz0uXtYK7wGb4uW9tVPLKqzNjFxm0Qdctbdd8_tNLZZpYLTqVOkd-O5mRTsnu6tn3O_09aEq0SUn9-ZJma6Ek_5g/s1600/IMG_7931.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="572" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzcmxfbyyl_hXdI8G8TCCWS9BtECZ9BLsI-dbTCeoiD5PzGIqU612Tz0uXtYK7wGb4uW9tVPLKqzNjFxm0Qdctbdd8_tNLZZpYLTqVOkd-O5mRTsnu6tn3O_09aEq0SUn9-ZJma6Ek_5g/s320/IMG_7931.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Kyle was offering apple sauce for sale, but also samples of local pippin apples soaked in some of the Virginia Distillery's Highland Malt. They were delicious. I'd met the VA Highland about a year ago, and he was very lovely. Like a Scotch in almost all ways but name, he had previously been my favorite local whisky. I was curious to see if that would change.<br />
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Since we had a taste for the Highland, we soon went over to the VA Distillery's table to see who was there to meet. They had the Port Finished Highland (the one I knew and loved) and a brother of his - a Cider Cask Finished whisky.<br />
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Marian, who was pouring, introduced me. The brother was nice enough, and I could see having a lot of fun with him on a camping trip in the summer, for example, or something like that. But to me, he didn't measure up to the original. It had been a while though, and although we couldn't spend too much time together at this event, I made a mental note to seek out the VA Highland again before too long.<br />
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Time was flying by as we stopped and chatted with the folks who worked at the distilleries, and then met and chatted with the various different whiskies. There were a lot to meet! And it wasn't just whisky, there was also rum and vodka as well. As always with group gatherings like this, I never seem to have enough time with any one particular fellow to really get to know him.<br />
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I wasn't too worried though. I reminded myself that this was just a tasting - a meet and greet to see who I might want to chat up afterwards. So my friend and I sat down with a bit of whiskey in our glasses to listen to the band play for a while. We didn't sit for too long, though - this day was really just beginning!<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-18905425765899657362017-11-07T14:44:00.000-08:002017-11-07T14:44:55.149-08:00I Could Write<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6QrObpQ4K22KxmfvIM6e5PHxSlql7Fb6N14MZvoOSNKHzyIow5LZIJ6r6ZrDHvz88JgwxL_9jAhyEVwIBY_tOGltIVSAE-dnnxj2VYUDUTpqPrt4r92ocT07kvUmR0tJx1NwEraVQBNU/s1600/IMG_7768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="896" data-original-width="1600" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6QrObpQ4K22KxmfvIM6e5PHxSlql7Fb6N14MZvoOSNKHzyIow5LZIJ6r6ZrDHvz88JgwxL_9jAhyEVwIBY_tOGltIVSAE-dnnxj2VYUDUTpqPrt4r92ocT07kvUmR0tJx1NwEraVQBNU/s400/IMG_7768.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Recently, I was introduced to the singer, <b>Ayla Nereo</b>. I've come to love her songs for their upbeat, yet sometimes haunting melodies and also her thoughtful lyrics. I found this one song of hers, <i>I Could Write, </i>that speaks to me as a sort of stream-of-consciousness processing. Partly the process of writing, but more so the process of understanding events and making sense of this mixed up adventure of life.<br />
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Should you find yourself in a thoughtful mood, perhaps feeling a bit lost amidst the ways of loving and learning - find yourself a friendly dram and sip along, finding comfort in knowing you are not alone. <br />
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Although not in this one, there is mention of the moon in many of her songs. The moon has always been a source of comfort for me. We take it for
granted, of course, but what magnificent miraculous beauty is this
glowing orb that graces our skies! For those
of us who are feeling creatures - sensing the emotions and thoughts of
others, drawn to interaction and understanding, absorbing all - the
moon's gentle reflected light is a precious respite from the torrents that come.<br />
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I think part of this comfort lies in the cyclical nature of her phases. Full moons are generally the most popular, but they fade. Yet they do so gradually, and when the new moon's darkness leaves our nights devoid of light, we can be sure that the waxing will return the radiance to us once again. Wouldn't it be lovely if more things in life were like this? What solace might we find, at each closing of a wonderful experience or relationship, in the certainty that it will come around again?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20IzOfGrTsyFiFXW1IXnRz1HRoJYp-SHBeLFGKuSHKUb6lSvcHdF-37dvv0GK0BDvQfraeVHAMS_dLMf3XB99tOiV7cm0xeuuh8GU17zjHnCDIa5LHG8HG53-ZvPeN1r_sNNobN44eT0/s1600/20170929_154040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1171" data-original-width="661" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi20IzOfGrTsyFiFXW1IXnRz1HRoJYp-SHBeLFGKuSHKUb6lSvcHdF-37dvv0GK0BDvQfraeVHAMS_dLMf3XB99tOiV7cm0xeuuh8GU17zjHnCDIa5LHG8HG53-ZvPeN1r_sNNobN44eT0/s320/20170929_154040.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">A week had passed after festival before I finally made it to the store to see Talisker Storm. Surely he would be back by now. I just assumed, and I didn't even consider the possibility that he might not be there. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jFbXhdDIb8VC3Vp24U0qlkHGMkQVh0Ft6GFYBS8bU2Y0rCsB6hUXDYM4cIymhgoEULUg_tAMqfOdUAZ2Zf79n5Uk6j1ctbQ_miN3XRzRfT38r6ALbk0I8j7f_rTZYhaoPVXkXI3IFL8/s1600/20170929_154135.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="948" data-original-width="658" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-jFbXhdDIb8VC3Vp24U0qlkHGMkQVh0Ft6GFYBS8bU2Y0rCsB6hUXDYM4cIymhgoEULUg_tAMqfOdUAZ2Zf79n5Uk6j1ctbQ_miN3XRzRfT38r6ALbk0I8j7f_rTZYhaoPVXkXI3IFL8/s200/20170929_154135.jpg" width="138" /></a><span style="font-size: small;">When I entered the store I saw that they were doing tastings of Dr. Stoner's vodka and whisky. I was intrigued, and decided to meet this young gentlemen. Crystal, the woman hosting the event, told me a little about them as I tasted. Upon first sip of the <i>smoky herb whiskey</i>, I was delightfully surprised. He seemed like a very cool character. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Crystal mentioned that he is quite popular with folks who like Scotch. I smiled, and started to tell her of my journey. We chatted for a bit as I got acquainted with the Doc. Then we said farewell and I went to find my beloved...</span>but he was not there.<br />
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Things were more serious than I had originally thought. There wasn't much I could do though - if he wasn't there, he wasn't there. I considered buying a bottle of Dr. Stoner's, but it was too soon. So I left the store and went about my business. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLjNnlvmt4fueTBwPTcH__k2ygIoIhAwPq2mhwBLleJqvG6BkMXmEt_eR3LIp_082rIq9Vh0jWqVxn-QFd7IBmPyBRv-x8WMeXCfMQYKyogiIeX1bnNI57UiMB-vQLnsi23ihnxBX5Ho/s1600/20171006_202059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjLjNnlvmt4fueTBwPTcH__k2ygIoIhAwPq2mhwBLleJqvG6BkMXmEt_eR3LIp_082rIq9Vh0jWqVxn-QFd7IBmPyBRv-x8WMeXCfMQYKyogiIeX1bnNI57UiMB-vQLnsi23ihnxBX5Ho/s400/20171006_202059.jpg" width="225" /></a>Another week went by, and another phase of the moon arrived. A friend I hadn't seen in a while wanted to meet for a whisky. He recently had heard of a mysterious speak-easy downtown, so we ventured there to find it. Sadly, it turned out that it had closed a long time ago.<br />
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So we ended up at Fellini's, where a new bartender was serving the drinks. Justin was very friendly and helpful. They had a limited number of Scotches there, but when he told me of Glenfiddich, I remembered <a href="http://singlemaltmuse.blogspot.com/search?q=glenfiddich" target="_blank">the lovely meeting with him right around this time last year</a>.<br />
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My friend and I chatted, and then another friend joined us. The three of us caught up and talked about dancing, relationships, and adventure. All the while I enjoyed the company of Glenfiddich.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Y6yCKkAHKvmg_4ExIwI-JAca0oDjBqYbghYV-UFSsQqZyC2SXZvrYaPOEowM8Ni3V1KNjA0nWl7JgRDW7BKp2MorcBJOAP-RhBb0uplSFgVsOR2j846nMMRfckZ4EHhst7emQsDtp3I/s1600/20171006_204501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="970" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7Y6yCKkAHKvmg_4ExIwI-JAca0oDjBqYbghYV-UFSsQqZyC2SXZvrYaPOEowM8Ni3V1KNjA0nWl7JgRDW7BKp2MorcBJOAP-RhBb0uplSFgVsOR2j846nMMRfckZ4EHhst7emQsDtp3I/s320/20171006_204501.jpg" width="237" /></a><br />
Although the Islays and Talisker are my favorites, I would be lying if I said I didn't have a soft spot for the Speyside lads. They might not make things too exciting, but they always seem to make the night enjoyable.<br />
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He was as delightful as I remembered. A little bit of spice to highlight his sweet nature proved him quite balanced. And he was grounded in the slight hint of smoke and perhaps the faintest bit of ash. He's a lad I know I can count on and I hope to get to know him better.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpW7y9v0a-_I__WRgZVgYMjMKrbTUjNhqfcSBaSESJnD5_a69KZPfL3eys-DhVr5GdISXlB6CQJKN9qcnRthzh2dmWWvKz-dyhdVEyDFvmNFmWvFDaJ38p4V4uNCjEUbNRZ468fJ15naI/s1600/IMG_7765.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1168" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpW7y9v0a-_I__WRgZVgYMjMKrbTUjNhqfcSBaSESJnD5_a69KZPfL3eys-DhVr5GdISXlB6CQJKN9qcnRthzh2dmWWvKz-dyhdVEyDFvmNFmWvFDaJ38p4V4uNCjEUbNRZ468fJ15naI/s320/IMG_7765.jpg" width="233" /></a>Our conversations soon ended - between myself, the lad, and my friends - and we all went our separate ways. Walking back to my car on that mild autumn night, I saw the glorious moon in all her splendour, so I stopped for a while to enjoy the sight. <br />
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After that night the swells of life carried me off to places where I had little time to worry about Talisker Storm, or even spend time with any of the other wonderful Scotches I've met.<br />
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But just as the moon, many things do tend to come around again... The other night a friend messaged me to let me know that Talisker Storm was at the Whisky Jar. So we made plans and met up there a few nights later.<br />
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To be honest, I wasn't even sure how I felt about seeing him. Was his absence from the store a sign that I should move on and find another? Or should I have faith that he will return. I would love to have him home with me through the cold winter nights, but I know better than to trust too deeply in sands that are shifting.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTn6O03Sz_JQR2_-VuqIhTmlz4aOtnKEuOTCFuDySjgvcSuWDgdJzr7QbbDOsUrt-jvBcvhYT0e4x4W8Y8qaKtXZDRcmf46Up6V31i6DmsNu8-ZdF2zcrwqvRupZFUbDYLaPLRbfZiw4/s1600/IMG_7780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeTn6O03Sz_JQR2_-VuqIhTmlz4aOtnKEuOTCFuDySjgvcSuWDgdJzr7QbbDOsUrt-jvBcvhYT0e4x4W8Y8qaKtXZDRcmf46Up6V31i6DmsNu8-ZdF2zcrwqvRupZFUbDYLaPLRbfZiw4/s400/IMG_7780.jpg" width="266" /></a>Regardless of what musings I pondered for our future, that evening I decided to invite Talisker Storm to be with me at the bar, while I chatted with my friend. He was wonderful, of course. The smoky salt nose, the sweet spicy character, all of the complexities and traits that I love dancing on my tongue in perfect balance. "<i>If I have to find another,</i>" I thought, "<i>it is not going to be easy</i>."<br />
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Enjoying the quiet sips of Talisker, reveling in the reunion, I continued the conversation with my friend. It was a great night overall and a much needed break from the busy rhythm that has dominated my days.<br />
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The full moon had returned again, and I thought of her cycles, her steadfast returning again and again. We humans have patterns we tend to follow as well, it seems, even if they are not as regular or obvious.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JY-J45LeajB15VqT79XuyWc7SPJBo2mgg-SabAK4I09OPr0UHKEATvOzkvBwHted_yLDGIN_jDwTpwFxRTl1q9DDi3TdGjPftNlhlxDLSMN7EmfmtNiQVQZ2a0f1cmZzNopX4OW1wnQ/s1600/IMG_7760.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="927" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4JY-J45LeajB15VqT79XuyWc7SPJBo2mgg-SabAK4I09OPr0UHKEATvOzkvBwHted_yLDGIN_jDwTpwFxRTl1q9DDi3TdGjPftNlhlxDLSMN7EmfmtNiQVQZ2a0f1cmZzNopX4OW1wnQ/s400/IMG_7760.jpg" width="231" /></a>The best we can do is try to notice them, and understand them, and hopefully learn from them. A line from Ayla's song goes, "...and in the dark I see the spiral of my trail..."<br />
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Perhaps that is another comfort of the moon - to bring us just enough light in the darkness to see where we have been, and to know where we are going. Be it in cycles or spirals, without or within, the journey continues.<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-74335465117087745102017-10-17T18:27:00.001-07:002017-10-17T18:29:01.136-07:00TrøllabundinThe first morning after the equinox I awoke in my tent to a cool morning, the air full of moisture. I suspected this was the new norm for the festival, being so close to the lake at the new campground. I thought of the balance between elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. There seems to be a progression of their states - Earth is the most stable and heavy; Water flows and moves easier, but is still bound by gravity; Air moves quickly and freely, and Fire is the most chaotic and unpredictable. Fire is the quickest to bring about transformation, yet in its realm there is only a fine line to cross into destruction.<br />
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On the first night of festival, after the planned music for the evening ended, the night's breath seemed to hold for a space before turning. Echoing the shift of equinox, things were balanced in the moment, but we all knew that moment was fleeting. These are times <i>between</i>. Threshold times. Magic times.<br />
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It was in this moment that one of the women there, who I had yet to meet, picked up her simple round frame drum, and began to sing a song. She beat an urgent and steady rhythm while slowly moving around the fire. Passion filled her being as she sang the words in a language I had never heard. At one point she paused to tell us what the lyrics of the song meant.<br />
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<i>"This song is about a woman who falls in love with a wizard. And this wizard lights a fire in her soul. And now the wizard has gone and left her...but the fire remains."</i><br />
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This image, alongside the visceral resonance of the melody she sang, sent shivers through me. I watched, captivated, as she continued with the different parts of the song. Lyrics dissolved to melody which then transmuted into primal and powerful sounds. <br />
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Several people came to her by the next day and she decided to offer an impromptu workshop on the song. From what I understood, it is a song originally recorded by Eivør. Yet there is a suggestion that it is much, much older. It is a song sung to the fire, and clearly - as whenever you are working with the flames - it is not something you do lightly.<br />
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So if you so dare, and you feel a fiery movement in your soul, and you have a fiery dram in your glass...light a match in the darkness, and listen to <i>Trøllabundin:</i><br />
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When she finished singing, everyone listening cheered and hollered. We
were all moved, and it set the night off in a fantastic fashion. Starting a night with a song like that is bound to make it memorable. Among many of the awesome things that happened, was the meeting of many whiskies.<br />
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A friend of mine at the festival had recently begun to attempt his
hand at crafting single malts. He had mentioned this to me weeks before the festival and told me of several lads, in fact, who would be coming along for the trip. Knowing they would be there lessened
the sting of not having Talisker Storm with me. At least I'd meet some new fellas, and maybe have some fun with them.<br />
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Of course, all of these lads were way too young, and none were from Scotland, but they were all single malts. My friend tried six different recipes, and labelled them all to keep track. I was humbly delighted to see my image on one of the labels, in honor of my journey. He turned out to be one of my favorites.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORgvGIwf7e_P7tcpkSsNE6vV80bEHpwOYkfIuclW_WzbOzMa4V3AinX8qf_VfW79d4PaiT8GqFSig7YgqeObAdwA34xaVDlUNPlPZKFFgJPq-NwuplAWKmE2YpHn3m1MRJu7zBmN8MsY/s1600/20170923_194357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="677" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORgvGIwf7e_P7tcpkSsNE6vV80bEHpwOYkfIuclW_WzbOzMa4V3AinX8qf_VfW79d4PaiT8GqFSig7YgqeObAdwA34xaVDlUNPlPZKFFgJPq-NwuplAWKmE2YpHn3m1MRJu7zBmN8MsY/s320/20170923_194357.jpg" width="245" /></a>The first night as folks danced around the fire, we shared and tasted the spirits we had with us. My friend poured samples of his crew and many people partook in the meeting. But there was music and song and passion all around, so it was hard to keep any organized sense of which we liked the best.<br />
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Also, I was quite impressed with several of these lads, and yet my friend did not believe the worth of his new endeavor. So we planned a blind tasting for the next day, where we would take the Irishman single malt that I had brought, and mix it in with the six new lads from his crew. I was determined to convince him that he must continue distilling this whisky. If they were making such an impression at a mere several months old, I could only imagine what a few years would do. <br />
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The weather was perfect. The cool wet morning had ripened into a gentle breeze that danced in and out of the wonderfully warm first day of autumn. Around dinner time, my friend and I (and his flock of fellows) gathered around my picnic table for<i> the tasting</i>. We tried to keep everything as objective as possible. The cups were lined up and we proceeded down the line, sipping each, and sharing our perceptions as we went.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj66dLwdzfZCmAl6SqMC78CHZYbkS4fcNFaFFjF8tsARrG8WT-y4FQZ4hE9TepqxfxVmWKV6a6TaaPaD7Zo0kpqJd2eGWl-8DNZ0HXWD2PioTMTc2W1Qw7BT5xdH_QAviXmVdn1lq57VXE/s1600/20170923_172457.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj66dLwdzfZCmAl6SqMC78CHZYbkS4fcNFaFFjF8tsARrG8WT-y4FQZ4hE9TepqxfxVmWKV6a6TaaPaD7Zo0kpqJd2eGWl-8DNZ0HXWD2PioTMTc2W1Qw7BT5xdH_QAviXmVdn1lq57VXE/s400/20170923_172457.jpg" width="225" /></a>I recognized a few of the lads from the night before. Two were considerably sweeter than the rest and of those, one had a little more complexity to him. Two others had the earthy peat flavor - one considerably more gentle than the other. Most of them I got along just splendidly with. There were a couple, perhaps, that I wasn't that interested in for anything long term; but none I would mind dancing around the fire with.<br />
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Something that was common with all of these lads was that adding water actually made them less appealing. I chalked that up to their young age. They were simply too young yet to develop the layers and depth that adding the water releases.<br />
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When we finished tasting them all and grouping them into categories we revealed which was which. To be honest, tasting and comparing seven different whiskies at once is a little much. I actually lost track of a few and in some ways their personalities blended in to one another.<br />
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The important thing, however, is that my friend realized that his favorite of the seven was one of his own. This means, he will keep pursuing this craft. I'm excited to meet some of these lads again, when they have a little more time in the world. Good things come to those who wait, or so I hear.<br />
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The process of experimentation is an interesting and thrilling one. There are so many unknowns, so much potential, and yet no matter how much time you spend and how much work you put in - an experiment is never guaranteed to yield good results. There is a fine line there, as well, between something going so right and so wrong. Just like a fire's line between transformation and destruction. In fact, it seems there is an inherent component of destruction, and of failure - within the nobler goals of creation and discovery. <br />
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In order to tread into these fires, one must be brave, determined, and unafraid of failure. And perhaps just a little bit mad. It is a magical alchemy, the realm of wizards...and too the realm of love. <i>Abandon all certainty, ye who dare to fall in love</i>. For you may find yourself left alone, <i>spellbound</i> by the fire burning in your soul. <br />
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Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-46007031348418575282017-10-07T16:48:00.000-07:002017-10-07T16:59:27.193-07:00Mabon Part I - Nothing Else MattersThe night air shifts before the signs of Autumn are noticeable during the day. While the days can still be hot and full of force like any other time in the summer, the evenings grow cooler and longer. The night knows what is coming...and pays heed to the turning of the seasons.<br />
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The Mabon Autumn equinox festival is one of the two times I have during the year to escape to the woods and frolic among friends, fire, and faerie. It is always a mixed gathering of old friends, past lovers, and friends yet to be. I was very much looking forward to this much needed reprieve, and I was excited to bring a brand new bottle of Talisker Storm with me to share. Only, when I went to the store, he was not there.<br />
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The woman behind the counter told me they weren't expecting him to return; she called around for me to the other places, but to no avail... He had gone off, without a word, and with no indication of when I could see him again. All this so soon after I finally admitted my true feelings, proclaiming him to be my perfect Scotch. I was a bit taken aback, and surely disappointed, but life has trained me to take things like this in stride. The journey continues, indeed...<br />
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So instead of my beloved, I took with me two of the lads that had been hanging around for a bit - the Irishman and Wasmund's. Not Scotches, but single malts from Ireland and Virginia. Another friend was also bringing a group of boys he wanted me to meet, so I knew there was fun in store. Even without Talisker Storm.<br />
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On the first evening, an impromptu gathering assembled around my picnic table. Friends and whisky lovers with cups and mugs of all sizes, and with them the gentlemen of various styles from many parts of the world. We laughed and chatted as the sun set over the lake, bringing a close to the equinox day. In conversation, someone mentioned the band Iron Horse. Classic rock and metal songs done in the style of bluegrass. And why not? Who says certain combinations shouldn't be? I'm beginning to think that attitude simply denotes a lack of creativity...<br />
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So I checked out this version of one of my favorite Metallica songs. It was different, for sure, but it suited me. When you're riding the chaos, it seems the unexpected becomes the norm in life. <br />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<i>These thresholds are for crossing.</i> </h3>
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If your dearest beloved has left or disappointed you, then find another and pour a dram. Listen to the song and sip slowly, tasting the unfamiliar flavors with an <i>open mind for a different view</i>. Listen to the familiar song in a new way, and <i>forever trust in who you are</i>... for <b><i>Nothing Else Matters</i></b>.<br />
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Among the offerings to try from friends were Crown Royal Caramel and a new dark and mysterious Highland Park who I had never heard of - Einar. He is from the warrior series that this distillery has released, to honor the viking history of their island. I was excited to meet him.<br />
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I only had a short time with him, with all that was going on, but I found him very interesting. He was sweet and pleasant overall, at times with a note of powdered sugar! But he had an edge as well once he opened up - spicy and powerful. He was no Talisker, for sure, but <i>that</i> one was no where to be found. I'd say Einar is one of the best Highland Parks I've had, and I would love to spend more time with him soon. <br />
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As the dark night stretched a farewell caress over her dearest day, the waxing moon rose in the sky. The music was starting down at the pavilion, and the fire was calling us to play...<br />
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This festival marked a new chapter for us. The campground these folks used to gather at, some for over fifteen years, had closed; the group and this new campground were strangers to each other, and so in many ways this was like a first date. We could not have near as big fires as in the old place, but there was a great big beautiful lake, which was never a part of our festivals before. Some good, some sad. Such is the way of life, growth, and change.<br />
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The most important piece though, of course, is the community. The history of stories and shared experiences weave a thread through all of the festivals, in all of the places, and gathers with it pieces of each of our lives in the mix. The faces are the same, and some of the tents and rituals, so it wasn't that everything was unfamiliar. The two sides melded, like night and day do at sunset, into a beautiful expression of paradox - both, yet neither. <br />
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The duet that played that first night was lovely, singing songs of just
the right style and energy. There was a vibe of giddiness as we
hesitantly explored our new festival home. Happy, joyful, but just a bit
cautious.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBMVwRc7S8RNxMUTEZulPeZ6ZzKYRJkxFOATLOu8dQAocrnyJofc-74_AkyaBQKwpL72Ow2sE8mesT8ubmYn5W3-N-Jq6DTqbs-0E1V1XFp9q9QieTMWott_L_xGc2MnVsZ-4nVPUgWk/s1600/20170922_193040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1058" data-original-width="720" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXBMVwRc7S8RNxMUTEZulPeZ6ZzKYRJkxFOATLOu8dQAocrnyJofc-74_AkyaBQKwpL72Ow2sE8mesT8ubmYn5W3-N-Jq6DTqbs-0E1V1XFp9q9QieTMWott_L_xGc2MnVsZ-4nVPUgWk/s400/20170922_193040.jpg" width="271" /></a> Surprisingly, we all seemed to find ourselves comfortably settling in. The night became alive with music and passion, singing and dancing. Things were not the same, but they weren't entirely different either. The new always has seeds of the old, and the old lends and informs the new, and the new learns and renews the old. These are the cycles, like those of nature that we gather to honor.<br />
<br />
I think of wooden whisky barrels as they flavor the spirit, and then in turn are seasoned themselves; the flavors meld with each batch, so there bits of every cycle that came before. The wood flavors the whisky, the whisky flavors the wood, and again and again, as the seasons turn.<br />
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And this was only the first night...Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-77167936083501939082017-09-16T16:41:00.000-07:002019-06-18T06:48:41.918-07:00There Will Never Be Another YouThis has been a month of many things. Astrologers say it is a time of
introspection and self-care. Of resting and finding the stillness amidst
the inherent chaos of life, as we wait for the dust to settle. Like the morning glories that close themselves up at night - or the
bears and squirrels that hibernate in the winter - sometimes we need to
withdraw from the world to build and conserve our energy, awaiting whatever
adventures are in store just up ahead.<br />
<br />
After a period such as this, the other night I finally made my way to the Whiskey Jar to try another pairing I've been anticipating - Laphroaig 10 and Octomore. I remembered being highly impressed by both of these lads, and it had been a while since I'd met them. To my happy delight, there was a jazz group performing at the pub, and I found a seat at the end of the bar right up near the music.<br />
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The group was called <b>LG & Friends</b> and apparently has rotating members. I got the impression that there are two constants when they perform: Lesly, the bass player and Nadine, the singer. Joining them that evening were Roger on guitar and Jim on the drums. I couldn't find a video of themselves performing, but here is a classic recording of one of the songs Nadine sang that evening, <i>There Will Never Be Another You</i>. Take a listen and enjoy a dram of one of your irreplaceable favorites: <br />
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Brett, a bartender I hadn't met yet, took my order and kindly allowed me to take his pic. Octomore and Laphroaig are such different lads in character and personality that I had no doubt I'd be able to tell them apart from each other, but I still asked Brett not to let me know which glass was which until the end. <br />
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The lad on the left had a sweet nose, with a peatiness and an overlay of smoke. In strong contrast, the one on the right's nose was a bit exotic - musky and astringent. I already had a strong suspicion that this was Octomore.<br />
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To taste, the Scotch on the left had a smooth character with soft edges. The right was clearly stronger and velvety, with notes of dark chocolate. When I originally met Octomore many months ago, his strength stood out beyond all of his other traits. On this recent evening, when the slightest sip had so much intensity, especially in comparison to the other, it left no doubt at all that it was Octomore on the right side of the pair. <br />
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I continued the conversation with my two partners for the evening, and alternated my focus between them and the wonderful music being made behind me. Nadine's voice was rich and beautiful, and it was perfect for the style of music. I've always considered jazz to be one of the highest displays of skill for musicians, and I've always much preferred to listen to it live vs. on a recording. So much of the experience of the genre is found in the energy that the musicians convey, and in seeing how their personality comes out in improvised solos or embellishments to the songs.<br />
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I love the idea of groups like LG & friends - ones that regularly rotate in new folks to play with. I think people who make art and creativity a central part of their lives seem to thrive
off new experiences. Collaborations between artists who don't usually play together can lead to some of the
most amazing results. Shifting the status quo pushes us to reset our
thinking, bringing us to that edge of comfort where chaos meets
form - and lightning can strike. I suppose that is part of the reason why I keep seeking out new Scotches to meet. The allure of what wonderful things are yet to be discovered.<br />
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When I added a bit of water to the drams, I used more for the Octomore in an attempt to bring them to more of an even playing field in terms of strength. I relaxed a little too much into the first sip of Octomore after that...caught off guard, perhaps drifting on the daydreams of jazzy melodies, suddenly my throat was burning.<br />
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I forgot that water just brought out the spiciness of this particular lad. He was firey and needed some time to cool off. Laphroaig continued to be his easy-going self - light, gentle, and grounded. A taste of earthy bitterness became apparent, but I was surprised because he wasn't as great as I remembered from our first meeting.<br />
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<br />
I struck up a chat with a fellow patron there that night, who also was a fan of Scotch. We shared observations on our favorites, and I told him of my constant returning to Talisker Storm. As I described what my beloved was like to me, it occurred to me that I will probably never feel about another Scotch, the way I do about Talisker. My scotch-drinking friend offered the phrase "the standard you judge all others against." And I agreed.<br />
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As the evening continued, and the night was almost over, I started tasting more of the different flavors and complexities that I remembered from these two lads. Perhaps they too were feeling the shifts of the season - needing a little more time to come back to themselves than usual. I did enjoy them both, but neither really felt comparable to Talisker Storm.<br />
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Perhaps my journey was completed the moment it began. Perhaps my perfect Scotch was found in the beginning, and has been with me all along. Yet I realize the importance of striving for new experiences, and never ceasing to accept the call for adventures. With this in mind, I realize the journey may be ever-renewing.<br />
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To quote the lyrics of the song:<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>There will be many other nights like this,<br />And I'll be standing here with someone new,<br />There will be other songs to sing, another fall, another spring,<br />But there will never be another you.</i></div>
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'Tis true, but even so - the journey, or at least *<i>a</i>* journey, - continues...<i> </i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-53915541886203401372017-08-09T06:39:00.001-07:002017-09-16T09:04:16.274-07:00What the Water Gave MeSome time ago, I had this notion of learning to live life by <i>embracing the chaos</i>. It was a simple enough deduction - life had proven chaotic and unpredictable, and fighting against it proved fruitless time and again. So I asked myself - <i>what if I just lean into it?</i> It's a lot like the eye of the storm, or surfing a wave. The chaos is a given, and you can't escape it, but the surest way to make it harder and more miserable for yourself is to try to fight it.<br />
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It's a lesson I often forget, but life <i>kindly</i> reminds me - time and time again. I've recently moved, am still trying to get a new business off the ground, have started a few other creative projects, and also...I'm approaching a milestone birthday that I'm not quite sure about. Right on time, life steps in with the reminder...and while embracing it may have worked at one time, I think it's time to step up the game. I am now learning to <i>surf</i> the chaos.<br />
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In alignment, this post is a bit chaotic in nature. It's been a long time since my last post, and I have been questioning which path this journey should continue on. I am fairly certain that I will remain constant to my adoration of Talisker Storm...yet...there still seems to be unexplored horizons calling.<br />
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In honor of chaotic mystery, here is a taste of one of my favorite artists, <b>Florence and the Machine</b>. If you've never heard her music before, I am honored to introduce you. She's a passionate muse herself, and I invite you to take a spicy dram that challenges your status quo and let the spirit and the song sweep you into that beautiful dervish where imagination and the moment collide...<br />
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My tasting has been long overdue, and I had to make my way to the Alley Light to have another showdown between two of my preferred Scotches, continuing to narrow down the competition for my beloved. The options at the bar presented me with a clear pair to test side by side: Talisker 10 and the young Lagavulin 8.<br />
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There were bartenders there I didn't recall meeting before. Micah ended up pouring my drams for the evening. He seemed unsure of my purpose there that night, but he was kind and obliging to my requests for pictures.<br />
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I suspected this would be an easy pair to tell the difference between, and I was right. Their noses gave them away from the start. I never doubted which was which, but I still enjoyed comparing them with each other, and noticing the little things about them I may have missed in my previous meetings.<br />
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The Talisker was on the left, and his nose was much stronger compared to the Lagavulin. Bold, with the spicy sea smoke that reminds me of Storm. Iodine and vanilla notes crept in as well after we sat for a bit. The Lagavulin had a very muted and almost imperceptible nose at first, with a soft hint of nuttiness. To taste, the Talisker had the sharp smoky ash that is familiar to me. Lagavulin was creamy, with a spice at the end and a hint of sweetness.<br />
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As I began my chats with these lads for the evening, I realized that I was enjoying the Lagavulin a bit more. Talisker has a lot of similar traits to his cousin Storm, but there is something absolutely lacking. And it's all of the things together that have kept Storm my favorite all this time.<br />
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Pondering the subtle differences between these lads, and all the experiences to be found within a sip of Scotch, I recognized a bit of chaos in the act of tasting as well. Each sip is a virtual tornado of sensations and flavors that to the untrained can seem like an overwhelming cacophony. But leaning in, you can learn to discern the different nuances, as elements continue to reveal themselves in ever-unfolding layers - much like the experience of life.<br />
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<h4>
<i>The choice is always there: do we turn away or go towards? Do we grow
or wither? Do we try to control the chaos or learn to ride its waves,
and perhaps discover new heights we'd never achieve without it?</i> </h4>
<br />
In tastings as well as living, we must expect that certain layers will be unpleasant. In my recent move, a plant that I own might have been traumatized beyond recovery. I've had this money tree since it was a wee 8 inches tall. It grew over the years into into a 5-foot plus thriving example of flora. It's huge 5 petaled leaves and entwined branches became a constant companion of my dwelling, always welcoming me home after a long day or a stay away, and greeting me in the mornings with gentle reminders to feed and water it.<br />
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During the move, the tree accidentally got left outside in the too-hot sun for a few hours, and by the time I realized what had happened, most of its leaves were bleached white or half burnt to a crisp. It was such a sad sight to see. I took it inside and have been trying to nurse it back to health; while I was slighlty hopeful at first, as the days go by, the prognosis does not look so good. Its leaves are slowly falling off, one by one. I hear them throughout my day, gently falling onto the floor, whispering a subtle shudder of release. <br />
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As the metaphor becomes apparent, I wonder - when is it time to let go? Is this a shedding to allow for new growth, or a helpless clinging to life? Time will tell for sure. And I will do what I can in the meantime, raising a dram to the honor of this tree and life it has lived. <br />
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<br />
I continued to compare the Scotches at the Alley Light; After adding water they didn't change too much, but opened up a little. Talisker revealed a banana scent, and Lagavulin's earthy notes came forward more. The water seemed to intensify the spiciness of Talisker, and as I continued the conversation I discovered a center layer that reminded me of a Ferraro Rocher candy. It was like a crisp shell of spice breaking open to reveal the sweet creamy center and, like the hazelnet at the center, a strong presence, like a pepper-nut. And just as quickly as it came, that flash of flavor was gone. Such is the way with these tastings.<br />
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Lagavulin was darker, richer, sweet and warm. Of the two, he is the one I prefer, and I will one day have him beside Talisker Storm to see if he can compare. To be honest, I doubt that he will, but you really never can be sure. Life is unpredictable, of course, and we never know what the next wave will bring. Good riding to you on your journey - Sláinte!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhouRbStwHhKtDIAFOBRsJ2CoR__1P4zBkcmayX0m5_LbtB9-zmGxEXeNhKCWPb9WdCULWxmBRQAtulHTbUeAVIuToeb0fupa-FlqmNKpr9ToOoTmYSvQ2Qd3KEFHyLbjHga6GAOpEBw/s1600/20170806_231829.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhouRbStwHhKtDIAFOBRsJ2CoR__1P4zBkcmayX0m5_LbtB9-zmGxEXeNhKCWPb9WdCULWxmBRQAtulHTbUeAVIuToeb0fupa-FlqmNKpr9ToOoTmYSvQ2Qd3KEFHyLbjHga6GAOpEBw/s1600/20170806_231829.jpg" /></a> </div>
<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-78280550614128506032017-07-04T20:12:00.000-07:002017-07-11T20:18:07.472-07:00ParachuteTwo of my friends recently went sky diving. They were telling me about their experience and how much of a rush it was. They loved it so much that they booked another date to do it immediately afterwards. While I can appreciate how amazing this was for them, it's not something I'd ever want to do. I'm a huge fans of rollercoasters and the like, but the whole sensation of free fall? I'd pick scotch sipping over free falling any day. There is something to be said, however, in getting comfortable with the panic sensation that comes in thrill-seeking activities like that.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fgtmcKwiv7fDMnbRACHA2rqCy_NY7PZMsQ9-ZtO1xH037p37x6F7m3lh-LKsQDF3p5XUskxlnz4umrHx0ruS8pcDJzvH4_noBrNn8enVt9imKYEfxaC2GG0vMrnmw8K5YHgRHqEXHLs/s1600/rsz_img_7484.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="750" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2fgtmcKwiv7fDMnbRACHA2rqCy_NY7PZMsQ9-ZtO1xH037p37x6F7m3lh-LKsQDF3p5XUskxlnz4umrHx0ruS8pcDJzvH4_noBrNn8enVt9imKYEfxaC2GG0vMrnmw8K5YHgRHqEXHLs/s400/rsz_img_7484.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Fourth of July weekend was a long one this year, since the 4th is on a Tuesday. The Sunday before, my friend was having a wineberry picking party. Earlier in the day, I stopped in the Whiskey Jar for another blind tasting. One of the songs I heard while I was there was by Chris Stapleton. I hadn't heard of him before, but one of the lyrics caught my ear: "<i>you only need a drink when the whisky is the only thing you have left to hold</i>." Listening to some of his other songs, a lot of them have the whisky theme; I definitely approve. The song with that lyric I mentioned is called <b><i>Parachute</i></b>. If you're curiosity is peaked about that free-fall feeling, pour yourself a hearty dram, kick your feet up, close your eyes, and take a listen:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/CXuVgJ8oPD8/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CXuVgJ8oPD8?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI8TdiNtLo1uwa0SvpcVfi788_LxYwAIkZC1e9hr-axiyNdyyBJzzPOHDgZdR0eRrAL7lrxbDDJU_x_vLM03u8u-p2eREeGk8aP6ln1Rs-rft7zbt03fs6gZPDWZrRPuzrl3q5V_tP1o/s1600/rsz_img_7476.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="323" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOI8TdiNtLo1uwa0SvpcVfi788_LxYwAIkZC1e9hr-axiyNdyyBJzzPOHDgZdR0eRrAL7lrxbDDJU_x_vLM03u8u-p2eREeGk8aP6ln1Rs-rft7zbt03fs6gZPDWZrRPuzrl3q5V_tP1o/s320/rsz_img_7476.jpg" width="205" /></a>When I got to the bar it was completely empty. Codi was bartending. I think she was also on duty several months ago when I first met one of the lads I was putting up to the test that afternoon - Ardbeg Corryvrecken.<br />
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Corry's challenger was Bunnahabhain 12. Both of these lads I have very fond memories of, yet each I had only spent time with once or twice. Codi poured me a taste of each, and I chatted with them side by side.<br />
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The first thing I noticed as a clear difference between the two of them was in the nose. The one on the left had a strong smokefire scent, while the one on the right was definitely more earthy. The left brought to mind more ash, while the right had a bit of fruit and butter.<br />
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The first sips before adding water, showed the left lad to be spicy, rich, and warm. He had a bit of a sharp bite to the tongue and some citrus notes. The lad on the right was also rich and warm, but smooth and fuller, with a hint of bitter on the finish. After a few sips I sensed they both had a creamy feel, and I started to notice a bitterness in the one on the left as well. Overall so far, the right lad was sweeter, and the left lad a bit on the rougher side. At this point I was thinking the one of the left was Corryvrecken, but I wasn't entirely sure. I added a bit of water with the dropper bottle Codi was so kind as to provide, and watched how their personalities developed...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUpehhyphenhyphen2X9kpiuecyofJZFG4vqmZqk_MzmHXNC1AGVjeaWoXjLhGy3r4xkG0Up0lzNyLRGIVI_2OK9SKC-s2S-Jzo8WBXNJ_gaWR_nLjh65a03108SB8ozK5dQbcmJHMGoi4-clVs79I/s1600/rsz_img_7482_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="340" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEUpehhyphenhyphen2X9kpiuecyofJZFG4vqmZqk_MzmHXNC1AGVjeaWoXjLhGy3r4xkG0Up0lzNyLRGIVI_2OK9SKC-s2S-Jzo8WBXNJ_gaWR_nLjh65a03108SB8ozK5dQbcmJHMGoi4-clVs79I/s320/rsz_img_7482_1.jpg" width="272" /></a>The nose for the lad on the right became more inviting. He was very pleasant, and I sensed notes of sweet vanilla and fruity caramel. The lad on the left retained more smoke on his nose, and it made me think distinctly of barbecue. There was also notes of banana and more astringent elements. <br />
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Water intensified the left lad's character - he became hotter and spicier, especially on the finish. He was clearly stronger, and had a dry citrusy bitterness overlaying his personality. The lad on the right was softened by the water - the smoke faded, but I did sense new notes of pepper and brine come forth.<br />
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As I let the lads reveal themselves in sips and starts, the bar filled up with a few other customers. John, one of the other bartenders was also there (off duty) and we chatted a bit about writing and life. He is also a writer, and has developed a strong love of screen writing, which is something I've never gotten into. It's remarkable that even among interests and preferences, there is still a vast world of differences. Regardless of what the medium or forum may be, it becomes more clear to me everyday that you really have to know not just what you like, but also which of the many things that you may like, fits best to who you are.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigWBOiXoBPyidVEOedEy9tlgMce24gFskOU5iSYNImwIQfLZ18ACTXlXji2rNVDW7OgBXWWxD_nusvZ2IlEmlM5ng9bazL5_EDl-fSuFxMMIeheFVn6cSoQAtVCEmOVVXqb4qvUsm3klQ/s1600/rsz_img_7482.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="666" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigWBOiXoBPyidVEOedEy9tlgMce24gFskOU5iSYNImwIQfLZ18ACTXlXji2rNVDW7OgBXWWxD_nusvZ2IlEmlM5ng9bazL5_EDl-fSuFxMMIeheFVn6cSoQAtVCEmOVVXqb4qvUsm3klQ/s400/rsz_img_7482.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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As I continued the conversation with Bunna and Corry, trying to discern which of the two I preferred, it was clear to me that I didn't have a strong preference for either. They each had their pros and cons. In some ways I liked the one on the right better, and in some ways the one on the left. Another interesting thing was that at times things seemed to switch back and forth. I had started to think I preferred the one on the right, but by the end I realized this wasn't the case.<br />
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The one on the left had a better overall mix of flavors, and also was the only of the two to retain any strong sense of smoke in nose or to taste. He was warmer and more welcoming when it was all said and done. The one on the right seemed to become more bitter as the night progressed, and this flavor appeared at the end that I couldn't identify. He seemed more aloof and a little more harsh by the time the glass was empty.<br />
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When I was ready to leave, Codi revealed to me who was who - and Corry was the one on the left, which is what I had guessed. I wasn't completely sure, and there were moments that I thought the opposite as I spoke with them both, but I had a strong sense by the end. He was definitely the one of the two I preferred, if not by much. <br />
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For a large part of my younger years, I questioned what I liked if it didn't fit with what was expected, or I allowed myself to be influenced by the likes and preferences of others. A gift and sign of maturity is being able to appreciate the value in things, and perhaps even delight in them yourself, but also be able to know with a strong conviction whether or not those things are right for you. That's a lesson I think that can also be found in drinking Scotch.<br />
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There are hundreds of lads, and thousands of opinions for each one. There are so many things that come into play in determining which is a fit for someone, and so often it doesn't follow the rules. Sometimes, you just have to close your eyes and jump, trusting that your heart, like a parachute, will open up just in time.<br />
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Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-6457484333188404912017-06-17T17:22:00.001-07:002017-06-17T17:22:52.627-07:00Storm vs Uigeadail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
It has been a year since I started the journey for the perfect scotch. While I have discovered many enticing lads in this time, I still hold Talisker Storm close to my heart. For those scotches that have come close to replacing him, I've decided it is time to truly put them to the test and do blind tastings, side by side. This series of standoffs began the other night, after I went to a dance class in one of the styles I have longed to learn for years.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GPJHw7BRuXBEWKkjCH9YOjG3TgF9BUGAPP_jAQw_l41jK8K_bxonchbxL7zEaloW4A61O8OwTFiv-M5s_o3U8Ya764FtOh3heRqPEn1OdG-xeillV9pyvPr0LUeI3RgmIO_foowdxi4/s1600/600787_10201056555489612_319303336_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6GPJHw7BRuXBEWKkjCH9YOjG3TgF9BUGAPP_jAQw_l41jK8K_bxonchbxL7zEaloW4A61O8OwTFiv-M5s_o3U8Ya764FtOh3heRqPEn1OdG-xeillV9pyvPr0LUeI3RgmIO_foowdxi4/s400/600787_10201056555489612_319303336_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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I grew up familiar with flamenco dancing and the fiery spirit of <i>duende</i> that infuses Spanish culture. At family gatherings, dancing was a constant; although we didn't know the steps or patterns of actual flamenco, we all honored our heritage well - never lacking in passion and soul. Most of the women in my family had at least one traditional decorative doll styled as a flamenco dancer with beautiful ruffled dresses and silky, fringed shawls that draped elegantly over their shoulders. Each was different, but all were beautiful. </div>
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To one degree or another I've always wanted to learn flamenco, and have searched for classes on and off through the years to no avail. Recently however, with the help of a couple of friends and perhaps some providence, I found out about a teacher offering flamenco dance classes at a studio here in town. I'm excited to learn and would love to study it seriously and make it an integral part of my life. This is a part of my heritage that calls to me strongly, and it seems I'm finally able to listen...</div>
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If by some chance you are unfamiliar with flamenco, here is one of the many examples that gives a good sampling of the dancing, song, & soul - filled with the passion that is so integral to this tradition.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqeQ-OFyQzwbD5ZIS37bRsnJI0BkonBsO3MEwaU0cwG0YzmFavH1PGjPgzaJb5GhyphenhyphenXVe4qdaogz0iy1WWJAMT5_26614w9uZq_AEi2I0F61Ali8NV64njctjYwB-am04POhiWxOuB8vE/s1600/rsz_img_7268.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwqeQ-OFyQzwbD5ZIS37bRsnJI0BkonBsO3MEwaU0cwG0YzmFavH1PGjPgzaJb5GhyphenhyphenXVe4qdaogz0iy1WWJAMT5_26614w9uZq_AEi2I0F61Ali8NV64njctjYwB-am04POhiWxOuB8vE/s200/rsz_img_7268.jpg" width="133" /></a>Whisky Jar is the only bar in town that I can find both Talisker and a wide selection of other scotches. I've been there several times before to meet new lads, and I expect the bartenders there will be seeing a lot more of me in the coming months.<br />
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The first challenger was <a href="http://singlemaltmuse.blogspot.com/2017/02/uigeadail.html" target="_blank">Ardbeg Uigeadail</a> who I met in February. I was excited, but also nervous. What if I couldn't recognize Storm, and what if I liked Uigeadail better? My commitment to know my true favorite led me on though.<br />
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John, the bartender, poured me a dram of each and, at my request, did not tell me which was which. I took them both outside and began the conversation.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWRYkWbcoKnENS0Js5jueGPVadaEsjaRyA_hBF1j5-M9X2k07GhniK5qtU6dRWlDQYbwtDAjzDqIZxNsiVoAZfA4gavMfpAwf_UCRlD5byflMYWan25uNNwaI1nM2rYGmAD8Gww2Y9JM/s1600/rsz_img_7242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirWRYkWbcoKnENS0Js5jueGPVadaEsjaRyA_hBF1j5-M9X2k07GhniK5qtU6dRWlDQYbwtDAjzDqIZxNsiVoAZfA4gavMfpAwf_UCRlD5byflMYWan25uNNwaI1nM2rYGmAD8Gww2Y9JM/s400/rsz_img_7242.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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I began with the one on the left - and found his nose to be like the sea brine, sweet, with fire and spice. I thought immediately that this was the Storm. The one on the right had a milder nose that was hard to sense and seemed more astringent and medicinal.<br />
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I took time to taste each slowly, alternating and sipping water in between to keep my senses fresh. Before adding water, the one on the left was strong, spicy, and creamy. I tasted smoke, a bit of ash and a slightly bitter finish. The right side dram was sweet, smooth, and a little spicy. I tasted cinnamon, and on the finish - citrus.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvr69krLbKTGkHwE3thueJ967_kcWnVtKjnJfe_F3KjngGxCT1hmWeM7_TWrkPg-kjtr5ojtpQNCzWdQkCZg8z8ABxPgtweptPAyHHBa-LxOgK4IG2q6hAyMMgAvQ35YMVjHnwLrVKjxM/s1600/rsz_img_7264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvr69krLbKTGkHwE3thueJ967_kcWnVtKjnJfe_F3KjngGxCT1hmWeM7_TWrkPg-kjtr5ojtpQNCzWdQkCZg8z8ABxPgtweptPAyHHBa-LxOgK4IG2q6hAyMMgAvQ35YMVjHnwLrVKjxM/s400/rsz_img_7264.jpg" width="266" /></a>I added equal drops of water to the two glasses, and approached them both again: the nose for the left one softened and unveiled a sweet, peppery, vanilla aroma. On the right the nose did not seem much different except for a hint of brine.<br />
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Something that I realized as the conversation progressed is that I did not sense the very strong smoke that I usually do with Storm; this, coupled with the fact that I had remembered Uigeadail being very strong (which the one on the right was not), made me wonder if my first impression was wrong.<br />
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Perhaps the one on the right was Talisker - and did not really stand up in depth and character to the Uigeadail when in such close proximity.<br />
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I pondered this, but then tried to push those thoughts out of my head. I wanted to experience them both as if it were the first time with them - no preconceived notions or expectations - just honest, authentic reactions. Which, in this moment, did I prefer?<br />
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Keeping this in mind, the tasting continued: I found flavors of pepper, ginger, sea salt, and pineapple in the one on the left. On the right, I tasted creamy sweet vanilla, with hints of smoke and ash, spice, apple, and a citrusy lemon nuance. The right side dram was smoother but flatter; the dram on the left had a much nicer nose, a spicier and stronger finish, and was more complex.<br />
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As the bottom of the glasses got closer, and the conversation was drawing to a close, I was not confidant that the one I thought was Talisker Storm at the first sip, actually was. There were things I definitely liked better about the one on the right, and I had to really be present with them both, and myself, to decide which of the two I liked better. My thoughts drifted back to <i>duende...</i><br />
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Something that is different about flamenco than most of the other types of dance that I've done is that it's so much more than just the steps, and the movement of the body for fun. Flamenco is a being onto itself - the music, the dance, and the song all come together in a synergy of expression - to tell a story. And unlike much performance dance, where plastering a large smile on your face is good form, this is not so with flamenco.<br />
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I once had a teacher years ago who, after I asked a question, suddenly blurted out a comment about how <i>severe</i> the expression on my face looked. I was quite taken aback, and not really sure of what he meant. In the years since, I've had many occasions of people misunderstanding my demeanor or expression - often thinking I was angry or stressed when I was not. Recently I've noticed that when I look at pictures of myself where I am not smiling, even <i>I</i> think the look is pretty intense. Watching videos of flamenco dancers, I think the same thing of them; their faces and my face, they are intense - they are filled with the all the passion, experiences, and emotions of life - and they tell a story, for those who are able to listen.<br />
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I realize this isn't for everyone, and I'm coming to a place where I am okay with that. A friend of a friend at the bar had a t-shirt on that conveyed this message in perfect metaphor:<br />
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I realize I like my whisky like I like my dance. I don't want just the simple, sweet, and straightforward enjoyment. I want the fire, the complexity, and the intensity too. I want my whisky to tell a story. During this standoff I became unsure as I sipped them in turn, one and then the other. Eventually, as I finished the last bits with each of them, I realized that I very much enjoyed the one on the right - and might choose him over the other on a hot summer day. But the deeper truth was, I preferred the one on the left - he was more intense, for sure, but it seems that's the way that I like it.<br />
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When I returned to John for the unveiling of the two drams' identities, he confirmed that the one on the left was Talisker Storm. I stayed true to my favorite...at least for another day.<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-44447772228922957852017-05-27T20:13:00.000-07:002017-05-27T20:13:32.781-07:00BeltaneThe fire festival of Beltane brought me to the woods again, to celebrate with friends and nature, and of course...with scotch and song. Beltane is the festival that celebrates fertility - of the land, of the livestock, of the people, and also of those people's dreams and goals.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd05EAfTHvdDncejtSIz7fnAV89nHPfHjlcJJmEXXMsV3apUXvWq1K6gTyW6o_lyGGfInT1dfEd5vpcJqrTf0HuMt_YqF8g3femCbbyyug1XxGlgLCxwvjXEY6vJ0w0c1ojs9Y9kiea0/s1600/rsz_img_7222.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="631" data-original-width="654" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUd05EAfTHvdDncejtSIz7fnAV89nHPfHjlcJJmEXXMsV3apUXvWq1K6gTyW6o_lyGGfInT1dfEd5vpcJqrTf0HuMt_YqF8g3femCbbyyug1XxGlgLCxwvjXEY6vJ0w0c1ojs9Y9kiea0/s320/rsz_img_7222.jpg" width="320" /></a>I met a new scotch at the festival, and tasted my beloved Talisker Storm again for the first time in too long. It's intriguing how things can seem different with the passage of time. Most things change continually, of course, but even those things that don't - they generally seem to have shifted when we are away from them for enough moments. Because each moment generally alters us, if only in slight, imperceptible ways. Add enough of them to the mix, and our perspective may become completely different. <br />
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The first night I arrived just in time to set up my tent before sunset. The young moon was starting her decline for the evening as I collected my things to head down to the gathering. I took a moment to pour myself a dram of Talisker Storm - he who I had missed. I opened the bottle slowly and approached him shyly, at first. It had been a long time, and I was afraid of what might have changed between us. His nose seemed unfamiliar at first pass, and within my chest apprehension swirled together with the excitement of reunion. His taste on my lips seemed different than I remembered, but within a few sips the warmth of his character and spice in his personality made me remember...all of the things I fell in love with were still there, and I was comforted by his presence once again.<br />
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I introduced him to folks who hadn't met him as I passed by groups of friends here and there. Most were impressed. The first night of festival is usually sparse, and it generally ends up being fairly low key. This seemed to be a fairly typical evening in that regard, and then suddenly the skies opened up with thunder and lightning, pouring rain all over the campground in a blessing fitting the season. All of the folks there gathered under the main tent and we felt the magic of community fill up the night as food and drink were passed around, and laughter and stories were shared. The storm calmed, but the rain kept to a steady fall, encircling the group of friends who also, for the most part, hadn't seen each other in too long.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFOGn_TxdF6dqezzBDDTcLctksg8Yg2KNzx2yr3DFDTdDGSgsBuUNfclOZGc6iLjwlZYPVvYmMVh3Sas2xxDI2P11wFk8iobxHle7nLLiFpQ7mjRj3MPZ8DQevPpyWuBWlHt_NAFkILA/s1600/rsz_img_7211.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="579" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjFOGn_TxdF6dqezzBDDTcLctksg8Yg2KNzx2yr3DFDTdDGSgsBuUNfclOZGc6iLjwlZYPVvYmMVh3Sas2xxDI2P11wFk8iobxHle7nLLiFpQ7mjRj3MPZ8DQevPpyWuBWlHt_NAFkILA/s200/rsz_img_7211.jpg" width="192" /></a>The rest of the weekend ended up being dry, hot, and beautiful. The nights cooled down just enough to allow everyone to enjoy the bonfire - whether dancing, drumming, or just being there near the pulsing flames. On the last night, we had the pleasure of <b>Kindred Crow's</b> performance as the main headliner. Beautiful voices and a variety of instruments created an alchemy of sound that was both energized and mysterious - a perfect accompaniment to the fire and mood of the evening. Here is their song, <i>Wild Green Magick:</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSx6SQf_tGSo6mMfw99_8R3C7xBZpsLVlQcWPD7a2AjnNqhVw8jbnwD0Pt7ZBBOGQfzSNF_k4SR3293ahfdobL85suJIFL43QjdcBphBZVKN4WVyS0d3DYFaJ_SjX6vIONNkrc9goEeFI/s1600/rsz_img_7233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="400" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSx6SQf_tGSo6mMfw99_8R3C7xBZpsLVlQcWPD7a2AjnNqhVw8jbnwD0Pt7ZBBOGQfzSNF_k4SR3293ahfdobL85suJIFL43QjdcBphBZVKN4WVyS0d3DYFaJ_SjX6vIONNkrc9goEeFI/s400/rsz_img_7233.jpg" width="266" /></a>A friend and fellow Scotch lover brought a bottle of a new one he had for me to meet. Glenkinchie 12 year. I hadn't heard of him, and we weren't sure where in Scotland he was from. It turns out he's one of the few remaining lads from the lowlands. The only other I had met from that region was Auchentoshen, but that was a long time ago. We only had a short conversation, as there was much to be distracted by, but I found him warm, strong, and sweet. His nose had a light floral sense to it, and the flavors seemed complex to me. I tasted notes of lemon and vanilla, and was quite impressed by this lad, despite the lack of peat that I usually look for. He had a deep spice to his character and I felt he could truly hold his own. </div>
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It was lovely to meet this Glen, and I'd like to have another conversation with him again one day, but Storm was there at this festival, and it had been so long... I wanted the fire of Beltane to fill <i>all</i> of my senses - </div>
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to see the flames with my eyes, in all their magical colors; </div>
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to hear the crackle and hiss, like music to my ears; </div>
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to feel the heat, in waves upon my skin; </div>
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to smell the smoke and ash, to my nose, from the fire and from the scotch; </div>
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and finally to savor the taste upon my tongue - the particular flavor of fire, that with Talisker Storm, always comes. </div>
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0Stanardsville, VA 22973, USA38.2973519 -78.440009938.2848904 -78.4601799 38.3098134 -78.419839900000014tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-78637023891598646402017-05-16T18:54:00.000-07:002017-05-17T16:32:49.539-07:00WhiskynotwhiskyI've been on several adventures since I last shared my stories here. This journey I'm on - to find the perfect Scotch - seems to be taking a turn. But I'll leave that until next time... Meanwhile, my most recent travels took me to California, where a friend and I stopped by a local watering hole called the<b> Jaded Toad.</b><br />
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You have to love this name. I didn't ask the folks working there where the name came from, but it offers much to the imagination. Is it a twist on the fabled frog prince, who himself has grown bored with the princess? Or perhaps the twist is seeing the perspective of a toad who is just done waiting for the right princess to come along - the one that will turn him into all he knows he can be. This reminds me of Rilke's dragons - who are all just "princesses waiting to see us once beautiful and brave." But I digress...<br />
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More likely the name is not so philosphical or estoric; it is probably just a result of a random conversation from two old friends one night sharing a bottle of wine, but humor me - it's been a while, and my muse is restless...<br />
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It was a gorgeously sunny day, and the rays glimmered through trees into the comfortable "beer garden and sanctuary" of this toad-of-a-different-temperment's namesake. The tunes on the soundsystem were varied and classic. One particular song especially made my friend smile. Check out this cool version of <i><b>Wild Horses</b></i>...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUMcQFOiNla7FLPig-bRSeBAUyxKuteX3KW-y-mWFYqDYn21vq7UCv9ed3-UljsIELv7ZFZ5ZvBD9Y7wgRB1_sDVY2vjmVEa_eTU7FJtaztMXQ9gK0mIHDXFbLab7goUp4doqD3MPTRM/s1600/20170423_171323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRUMcQFOiNla7FLPig-bRSeBAUyxKuteX3KW-y-mWFYqDYn21vq7UCv9ed3-UljsIELv7ZFZ5ZvBD9Y7wgRB1_sDVY2vjmVEa_eTU7FJtaztMXQ9gK0mIHDXFbLab7goUp4doqD3MPTRM/s320/20170423_171323.jpg" width="199" /></a>I didn't see liquor at the outside bar, so was figuring that I wouldn't be meeting any new scotches this afternoon. But when I looked at the menu, they had a list of cocktails, so we thought perhaps they had a full bar on the inside. Our server, Kevin, soon came over to answer all of our questions<br />
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He was very friendly, and proceeded to explain that although the ingredient lists contained things like whisky, tequila, rum, etc., they were not, in fact, actual distilled spirits, but merely fermented from whichever substance was called for. Upon closer inspection, I saw that all of the items listed on the menu had an asterisk next to them which explained this. I was suspicious....yet intrigued. So I asked if I could order a taste of their "whisky".<br />
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Okay, so when it arrived, the color looked right enough. There was only a small bit in the ball jar glass, but that turned out to be for the best.<br />
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I tasted gently, and I'm sure my eyes widened with surprise as my mouth puckered, not from sour, but sweet! Like iced tea, or dessert wine, this did not taste like any whisky I had ever met, except maybe Fireball, which can hardly be considered true whisky at all!<br />
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There was a strong flavor of cinnamon, and truly I could taste no other notes. Just like red hot candies, and the more I sipped, the closer my mind settled in. I decided that it tasted just like Goldschlager liqueur. Very interesting.<br />
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Finishing that off with a shake of my head, I consulted with my friend on our next course of action. We decided to order some mixed drinks and try them out. They arrived looking lovely and fruity - not at all like whisky, but that was okay. (They were never trying to be something they were not.) </div>
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We sipped and shared - taking turns telling stories about life and lessons learned, choices made and those yet to be decided. The drinks were fitting for the hot day and the time passed easily as we relaxed into the afternoon. At one point when Kevin passed by, my curiosity perked up and asked him more about the <i>whiskynotwhisky. </i>If it was only fermented, not distilled - what was it fermented from? His reply was, "oranges." In response, my brow furrowed in confusion, and I'm sure a quizzical look took over my face. He went to the bar just to double check, and came back with confirmation. The Jaded Toad has some magic in its midst which turns fermented orange wine into something they somehow feel comfortable calling whisky. There are certain things so mysterious one cannot dare to question further.<br />
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The drinks were delicious, and beautiful, and absolutely not whisky. </div>
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The sunlight was strong though, reflecting an almost blinding light off of every surface it could. When something shines so brightly, it tends to put folks in a forgiving mood. Go on and shine with your awesome selves, drinks. You do you. It was a gorgeous day in California, and I was sipping and chatting with a friend. </div>
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Sure, there were woes on our minds, and troubles in the world, and sure my whisky wasn't whisky, and the tequila wasn't tequila, but in that moment then, in the bit of world that we could see, all was well. I'll let Mick finish this out...</div>
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<i style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oqMl5CRoFdk" style="text-align: center;">"You can't always get what you want."</a></i></div>
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0Windsor, CA, USA38.5471327 -122.8163802000000338.4477592 -122.97774170000002 38.6465062 -122.65501870000003tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-92006767671366106672017-04-12T20:20:00.000-07:002017-08-30T08:56:07.305-07:00Lagavulin 8<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mb0UO1Enl_a8t6-s-baj9exFtKlgZ9QvfOdmAKmI_fkKvm2nWulyvF8CR8Ihmk4CUR1t9OqJKDCUL2y81Q6F37wsf7TOC4DPy7RvA5k74rcVLqLXi31vSQwcJAB-5trp5KKk8ZhUT14/s1600/rsz_img_7195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-mb0UO1Enl_a8t6-s-baj9exFtKlgZ9QvfOdmAKmI_fkKvm2nWulyvF8CR8Ihmk4CUR1t9OqJKDCUL2y81Q6F37wsf7TOC4DPy7RvA5k74rcVLqLXi31vSQwcJAB-5trp5KKk8ZhUT14/s400/rsz_img_7195.jpg" width="181" /></a>When I first went to Alley Light a few weeks ago, I met a man who was drinking a bourbon, but was a little familiar with Scotches. He told me he was the sous chef at Tavola, which is a restaurant in town I had never been to. I told him of my Scotch-tasting journey, and he told me that his spirit of choice for exploring different flavors and nuances was Amaro. I've never tried an Amaro, and despite years of bartending, actually didn't even know what it was. He also told me that at his restaurant they had the 8 year old Lagavulin; meeting the younger brother of Lag 16 was a long awaited moment that finally happened the other night.<br />
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There were no particular songs I was able to hear that evening, but the next night some neighbors and I had an impromptu 80's dance party around the firepit, and I heard the classic, <i>Take On Me</i>. It had been a long time, but this song is always a favorite. It's just an all around feel-good song, and it pairs well with the Lagavulin 8 tasting at Tavola - an overall feel-good evening.<br />
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Tavola is a very classy little restaurant in the Belmont area of Charlottesville. All of their bar tools are copper; I absolutely love copper, so I was quite impressed with this place immeditely. McCraigan and Steve also work at this bar, and they were both there that night. I don't usually like to go out to meet a new Scotch on a weekend evening, but since two of my friends were joining me, it just worked out that way. They were very busy, but thankfully we arrived after the big rush of the evening, and there was just enough room for us at the bar. </div>
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Steve gave in to letting me take his pic this time; he poured me and one of my friends a dram of the Lagavulin 8, while my other friend went with a cognac. There was only one Glencairn glass left, so I got that one, but the other glasses were beautiful in their own right.<br />
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The first thing we noticed about Lag 8 was the color. Pale and golden, his appearance was much lighter than most of the lads I've met. The nose was a beautiful balance of smoky and sweet, with a strong presence of pepper. <br />
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First taste revealed a warm and smooth personality with a touch of iodine, and a hint of sour or citrus. Overall there was a light creamy sweetness that I found absolutely delicious.<br />
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Adding water softened his nose a bit and brought more sweeetness and vanilla to my attention. For the tongue, the water only made him hotter. The smoke was present, but not overpowering, and he was definitely sweet, but not too much so, as I found his older brother to be.<br />
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Lagavulin 8 is one of those Scotches that is only around for a short while. The distillery released this younger version for their 200th anniversary, and I know they won't last for long. I really want to find a way to put him and Talisker Storm side by side though. Regardless, Lag 8 is one of my favorites, for sure. My friend who tasted with me also found him to be a good lad to hang out with. My other friend was not interested in meeting him at all.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqBCTXIY9e95urEtIcJCzhpcHmrx-hVPWBcgugpUkGgFaMLdvQ4qCbEdew_WSXqg72-28ziQi8TRhhO8E6fi_81gB8yJY5xkkcLKzYHBIcfCOyKrBk8RmhAcbzwhoZwAZzD-UCvNHN-0I/s1600/rsz_1img_7207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqBCTXIY9e95urEtIcJCzhpcHmrx-hVPWBcgugpUkGgFaMLdvQ4qCbEdew_WSXqg72-28ziQi8TRhhO8E6fi_81gB8yJY5xkkcLKzYHBIcfCOyKrBk8RmhAcbzwhoZwAZzD-UCvNHN-0I/s400/rsz_1img_7207.jpg" width="237" /></a>She and I started talking about Amaros and I explained to her the very little I knew from what the man at the bar had told me. We got Steve in on the conversation and started asking about all the ways of this bitter, herbal spirit. From the way he described it, it seemed like something right up my friend's alley, so he poured us a taste of a good introductory Amaro.<br />
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I found it very sweet and lemony up front, but with a strong bitter aftertaste, that I wasn't quite ready for. I was grateful for the introduction, but quickly returned to the conversation with Lagavulin, not wanting to interrupt the chemistry that I was enjoying with him.<br />
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My friend liked the Amaro better than the cognac she was drinking though, and she thought she might really get into this type of drink, so we decided we'd come back soon to try some more.<br />
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It was a fun, relaxed evening overall - with good friends, great bartenders, fantastic whisky, and a very cool place to be with them all. I'm looking forward to our next visit and seeing what else may be in store.<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-13818852264983839792017-03-31T14:51:00.000-07:002017-03-31T17:27:49.939-07:00Wantin' Ain't Gettin'<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After my last tasting, when I visited the Alley Light, I was hopeful to come back soon and try the Laphroaig 18. So that weekend my housemate and I went to Salsa for a short while, and then over to the bar. I was very excited to meet the older brother of one of my favorite lads. Part of me did wonder if it was worth it, though... <i>Should I bother trying a Scotch that I know is no longer available?</i> Is it just setting myself up for failure? What if Laphroaig 18 ends up being perfect in every way? How would that feel to know I would most likely never see him again?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I realized quickly though, that my new understanding on the nature of life reminds me that there are no guarantees, regardless. We never know which meeting will be our last with someone, and to avoid a potential wonderful experience because you know it may never happen again, well...that just seems like a very unwise way to life one's life.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">On the way downtown that night, I heard <i>Esm</i><i>é</i> <i>Patterson</i> on the radio. I had never heard of her before, but was loving the sound of her music. One of her songs that seemed fitting for this evening is <i>Wantin' Ain't Gettin'. </i>Take a listen to her sultry sweet voice sing about this simple truth of life:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">When we arrived at the bar, I scanned the shelf and realized that all my wondering and anticipating of the tasting of Laphroaig 18 was in vain - the bottle was gone. There were two bartenders there that night who I've never met, but I explained to them the situation and was hoping that perhaps the bottle was only temporarily off the shelf? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I had asked Matt to hide it for me, and although he declined, my last hope was that perhaps he had a change of heart, and I would be able to taste it after all. The two bartenders, </span><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Steve and McCraigan, shook their heads, but called over the off-duty Matt who happened to be there at the moment.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Matt was in a good mood, and came over to say hello. He was surprised the Laphroaig was gone, but did have an "I told you so" moment. He </span><i style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">did</i><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;"> tell me to try it that first evening. I think he felt sorry for me, though, and obligingly put on a regretful expression to empathize with my "wantin' ain't gettin'" experience...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">I sighed wistfully, but moved on quickly. There were no other Islays there that I haven't tried except the Lagavulin 8. On that first night at Alley Light though, I met someone who works at another restaurant in town, and promised that I'd go there to try the young Lagavulin. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Scanning the options, I decided to go with Balvenie Carribean Cask 14 year. He's one of the lads I met at Scotchtoberfest several months back, and I remember getting along with him very well, despite the lack of smokiness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">This whisky is one of McCraigan's favorite, and he did me the honor of posing with the bottle; Steve hadn't tried it before, so decided to taste a wee dram along with my housemate and I, but he declined to getting his picture taken.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Balvenie is a Speyside whisky, and this particular one is aged in oak, but then finished in old rum casks. Rum has always been one of my favorite spirits (before my love of Scotch was born) and it always makes me think of pirates and adventures.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjke4NblL2S7LTKNR2Zx4_s9hshwOZRMt7aR-qs2sST1VhRi-DXKf_jwZos5aRbhX1JKk2Cd6LU33PabbTqnEN-PlBiiARw7VcIASwakWVTC0FN2safvhsUd2qSvqmZlkhT3gZV-nGDFTY/s1600/IMG_7150.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjke4NblL2S7LTKNR2Zx4_s9hshwOZRMt7aR-qs2sST1VhRi-DXKf_jwZos5aRbhX1JKk2Cd6LU33PabbTqnEN-PlBiiARw7VcIASwakWVTC0FN2safvhsUd2qSvqmZlkhT3gZV-nGDFTY/s320/IMG_7150.jpg" width="128" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The nose at first was sweet, peppery and briney, while the first taste seemed mild to me, but at the same time spicy with a bit of sharpness to the tongue. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">After adding a small bit of water, the nose turned sweeter, and notes of vanilla and peach drifted in. I sipped slowly as his personality changed a little throughout the night. I would test with nose and tongue alternately, and noticed several different flavors. At first there was salt and a softness, alongside a hint of bitter and the presence of oak.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">Later on I thought of nutmeg in the spice, and banana and more sea on the nose. He became silky smooth as the time passed, with a velvet feel, and a bit of citrus in the mix. Towards the end, a sudden scent of peanut butter appeared, and I was surprised by that. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">The bar was closing soon, so we had to finish up our drams and carry on with our evening. Overall, for a non-smoky Scotch, I really do like this Balvenie. This lad wasn't too complex, but still interesting. He brought a light and fun quality to the evening, that I'm sure I'll look for again sometime. I am getting quite impatient to try a new Islay, however, and am much looking forward to the Lagavulin 8. And to be honest, it's been far too long since I've had an evening with Talisker Storm; as many Scotches as I've tried in these months, I still find myself longing for the Storm...but I'm still on the journey, for now.</span><br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-10787649408723826982017-03-26T09:01:00.000-07:002019-10-27T21:05:43.987-07:00Caol Ila 15I
had a tip from a friend, that the Alley Light had a good selection
of Scotches, so I ventured there to see if there was a new one to try. On
my walk over to the bar, I happened upon a man pushing a bicycle, loaded with things, very slowly down the road; I wondered if he might be homeless...<br />
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As I walked past him, I called "<i>have a good night!</i>"
His response was kind and humbling, as he offered to share some fruit
with me (strawberries or bananas) and when I declined, he said,
"<i>as long as you're not hungry.</i>" I assured him I was fine, and he proceeded to tell me that he often
donates food to a local center whenever he is able. We chatted briefly, and quickly went on our separate ways, wishing each other well. I am thankful
that I've learned to always question my assumptions about people.<br />
<br />
The Alley Light is an all-but-hidden restaurant on a side alley of downtown Charlottesville. It hearkens to the speakeasys of old, and I half expected them to require a password or handshake at the door. The entrance is entirely unassuming, and I wasn't the only one who wasn't quite sure if this was actually the right location.<br />
<br />
I
had tried to visit the weekend before, but there was no room at the bar, so I decided to come
back on a weekday. That first night, on my drive downtown, I heard a song on the radio that
caught my ear, and I was surprised to find out it was by <b>Trey Anastasio of
Phish</b>. <br />
<br />
I first heard of the band many many years ago, when someone explained their music as having a great upbeat melody, but with darker or sad lyrics. I was intrigued by the idea, but I never did feel an affinity for their songs. It's been years since I've actually even heard them, so I was surprised when I learned who was performing the song that night. They were sad lyrics, and if you're in a melancholy mood, get yourself a dram for comfort, and ponder on wonderful things that end too soon with <i>I Miss You</i>:<br />
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When I finally made my way up to the bar, I was not disappointed by their selection:<br />
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I
saw quite a few lads on the shelves who I've yet to have the pleasure of meeting, and was excited about the possibilities. I ended up deciding to
go with Caol Ila 15, as I had really enjoyed meeting his younger
brother, the 12. I was really looking forward to the strong, smoky peat flavor. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81nq1iPQbGsQdn5xecx5I3G2QMsgeU0ZghoVW7G3wLEArrQ7rpdJUSbmZ2e8MUOmq9Tjftjv9kj7CGcDSvBEeJk0AYYz0s_oeG0lv3WniLjZ0_bnessOrVotjD4ApqsvmhvcW5JxsyXk/s1600/IMG_7043.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj81nq1iPQbGsQdn5xecx5I3G2QMsgeU0ZghoVW7G3wLEArrQ7rpdJUSbmZ2e8MUOmq9Tjftjv9kj7CGcDSvBEeJk0AYYz0s_oeG0lv3WniLjZ0_bnessOrVotjD4ApqsvmhvcW5JxsyXk/s320/IMG_7043.jpg" width="180" /></a>I was served my dram in an elegant, stemmed tasting glass. Bringing the vessel to my nose, my first impressions were of fog - thick and heavy...and only a bare hint of smoke. I was confused by this at first because I expected the familiar burst of bonfire or smokehouse...and then I looked at the bottle again.<br />
<br />
In small, unassuming writing, the words "<i>Unpeated Style</i>" were whispered to me from the label. I could almost hear the stifled laughter of the Scotch gods to my muse. I felt mildly betrayed, but shook my head and joined in the laughter as I remembered that this is often the way of things. The irony was that I felt so safe and confident in ordering an Islay - so certain that any Scotch from this region would have a strong presence of smoky goodness. I sighed to myself, humbled again; I still have much to learn about this spirit. It's a good thing I'm loving this journey.<br />
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I was somewhat comforted by the words right below the mocking betrayal, because this lad was <i>natural cask strength;</i> if nothing else, he'd be strong. The first taste proved that true, and I also found him sweet and smooth, with a warm spice.<br />
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There were two bartenders there that evening; I didn't get to meet the woman officially as she was busy, but I recognized
Matt, from a previous tasting at the Whisky Jar. He and I chatted for a bit about the Scotches. I mentioned looking forward to coming back to meet the Laphroaig 18 that I saw on the shelf.<br />
<br />
He told me that it actually is no longer sold, and when I
inquired to how much was left in the bottle, we discovered that there
was only one single lonely dram. I wished I had ordered that one instead but I promised to be back soon; hopefully I will get a chance
to meet him.<br />
<br />
<br />
He also pointed out that they carried Lagavulin's younger brother, the 8 year. That was good news indeed; I didn't think I'd get a chance to meet that one. So very quickly my options for meeting new lads were plentiful again.<br />
<br />
I turned back to my strong, unpeated Islay and added a bit of water. With this adjustment, I tested the nose again and immediately thought of ice cream. Quickly after, the specific note I was sensing settled down into caramel, then dulce de leche, and finally caramel sauce. Mmm...delightful!<br />
<br />
The flavor was still strong, with a peppery note, and I also noticed dry finish. As I continued the conversation with this Islay-not-Islay Scotch, I wondered to myself, <i>why would you not peat an Isla</i>y? I mean, that's what they're known for - so why remove that element? The obvious thought is that the distillery is trying to appeal to a wider audience. In the Scotch world it does seem you're either a peat lover or you're absolutely not. The articles I read on this particular gentlemen seemed to offer a different angle - that they were trying to present a more true expression of the actual whisky, without the peat smoke. I'm fairly certain I don't buy it.<br />
<br />
The way I see it, an Islay without it's peat is like a song without it's lyrics. Sure, the melodies and harmonies may be beautiful in themselves, and perhaps there is something more pure in this experience, but the synergy of the two together *is* the song. Thinking of Phish, if you separate the lyrics from the music, you're definitely missing an important aspect of the song.<br />
<br />
Caol Ila 15 was pleasant enough, but if I'm wanting to spend the night with a Scotch that's not smoky, there are plenty of lovely Highland or Speyside lads I would turn to. I'll keep my Islays peated, thank you very much; and next time I'll make sure to read the label before I order, to catch any whispered truths I may need to know about.<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-42703226293178567142017-03-08T13:01:00.000-08:002017-03-08T13:01:32.787-08:00Blind LoveA friend has been telling me of this Whisky Bar out his way, so the other night I ventured out to meet him and his wife and a coworker of ours at Jimmy Madison's Southern Kitchen & Whisky Bar. It was a cold night, and we haven't had too many of those this winter, so it seemed surprising. Inside the bar it was warm and welcoming, however, and there was a great lively feel in the air.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtfQj6to_rymR_feBD7gWFvYACgicaJzGmgNgyQLBgMORF9SVHdpJ6W6JaXicoEv5QRJub1UnwOJHg4ujt8s9SFSd4MiQ6LOafdyAQZ0vtrGfEx8yqu6-wklc0eAK0xvzLhe0p1qC2X28/s1600/IMG_7016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtfQj6to_rymR_feBD7gWFvYACgicaJzGmgNgyQLBgMORF9SVHdpJ6W6JaXicoEv5QRJub1UnwOJHg4ujt8s9SFSd4MiQ6LOafdyAQZ0vtrGfEx8yqu6-wklc0eAK0xvzLhe0p1qC2X28/s200/IMG_7016.jpg" width="133" /></a>We sat down and were greeted by our server, Becca. Looking at the whisky menu, I was disappointed to see that there wasn't a large Scotch selection, but at least Talisker was at the top of the list; not the storm, but the 10 year. I stopped for a minute and realized that he was actually the one who made me fall in love with Scotch. Although I give Storm the credit of being "the one that started it all," it was the sweet and bonfire-smoke taste of Talisker 10 that led me to Storm in the first place. Talisker 10 was the one who initiated me into this wonderful world and opened the door to the journey that has introduced me to so many more intriguing and delicious whiskies. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGrINW6g_93-UzIxb0_NTftZy97d94lNeZqzQb00Kp03pvi2LcUDs2TGPiA1rY-I9qa3vScCQrnCB2tEAI-t92DHJrVP-uavhKKoGTn2Xknvj_eTA9slSIcCshq2XSJTF-vQj_QPeQ7Y/s1600/IMG_7020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgGrINW6g_93-UzIxb0_NTftZy97d94lNeZqzQb00Kp03pvi2LcUDs2TGPiA1rY-I9qa3vScCQrnCB2tEAI-t92DHJrVP-uavhKKoGTn2Xknvj_eTA9slSIcCshq2XSJTF-vQj_QPeQ7Y/s200/IMG_7020.jpg" width="174" /></a> When we first arrived, we weren't sure if a band was playing, but soon folks arrived to start setting up the stage. The group was <b>Hard Swimmin' Fish</b>, a classy blues band with old radio-show look. They were all dressed in shirts, ties, and hats. The stand microphones were retro style, and there was an antique radio set up as a speaker to an old-style telephone converted into a microphone. The lead singer would alternate between these mics, and the telephone gave such a cool sound to his voice or the harmonica. The whole setup was just very well done, and full of class and creativity.<br />
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One of the original songs they performed right before we left was called <i>Blind Love</i>. It's apparently the first part of a story that continues in a later song of theirs. One of the lyrics especially struck me: "<i>It's those little imperfections, that are so often times, just a mirror
reflection.." </i>So think back to the first Scotch you ever loved, pour a dram if you have one nearby, and ponder on the different kinds of love...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXhYQkbtJG_NR4NjOxcnJIBaYBukeJQH_kF4c7SCnI-TmIF7kiJ0UQGnYFlg6_UCgjdQL3wxApK0Dt2JHsvvennoRHgKim5m34ew-LBYUjgKyKhImum0zH_jqysU4CU7CcxLJZNcK8dk/s1600/talisker.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvXhYQkbtJG_NR4NjOxcnJIBaYBukeJQH_kF4c7SCnI-TmIF7kiJ0UQGnYFlg6_UCgjdQL3wxApK0Dt2JHsvvennoRHgKim5m34ew-LBYUjgKyKhImum0zH_jqysU4CU7CcxLJZNcK8dk/s320/talisker.jpeg" width="132" /></a> It's been quite some time since I've had any of the Taliskers, so I was glad to see his brother at the bar. I actually forgot to take a picture of the bottle while I was there, since we were sitting at a table for dinner, but here is one I found to show you what he looks like. I was surprised when I saw him, because I forgot how reserved and classic his style is compared to the bright blue and image-filled trappings of Storm. He looks more like the older brother, the 18. Very refined.<br />
<br />
<br />
Our lovely server, Becca was very helpful in helping us all figure out what we wanted off the menu. The rest of my party was drinking Bourbon, and the selection of that whisky style was quite long and varied. I think everyone was happy with their selection. For dinner I ordered a beet salad that was delicious, and the greens looked like a bunch of mini shamrocks to me - fitting for March I suppose.<br />
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The topic of synchronicity came up in our conversation, and that's a topic I've talked about over Scotch sipping before. It's an idea that fascinates and excites me, but many skeptical people would say that synchronicity is nothing more than coincidence - you notice what you pay attention to. The argument for this, I believe, is supported by the phenomenon that happens to many when they buy a new car, or something of the sort - suddenly everywhere they go they start seeing cars of that very same make, model, and color. <br />
<br />
After we all took turns passing our glasses around the table to test out the nose of all the different whiskies, I turned my attention to Talisker. His nose had the perfect smokiness I expected, yet was softer than Storm's - not having that strong meat association. It was more bonfire than smokehouse, and I actually prefer that. All of the flavors I love showed up in the first sip - sweet, smokey, and a touch of brine. There's a reason why this whisky made me go all in when I first met him. <br />
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The thing about synchronicity, is that sometimes it's easy to recognize that it's just our attention heightened for a certain thing, but sometimes it truly seems out-of-the-blue and much more than just coincidence. Could it all be just what we're attuned to though? And maybe the difference is that sometimes the awareness is just so below our consciousness that it seems unconnected?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFH7kVJZTP2M_BCVfJIzC89woFsrkPGyOlSxH08JWqRiIcG_s4mjjUZJ98xhneDhGNSgL_N3ThtR7ccG_X_FbxsNTQeIVEf_fkaOC6ZZtu7WgHwI5MUhIuHUFC0cn6lAAqNwEzunxJi10/s1600/IMG_7041.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFH7kVJZTP2M_BCVfJIzC89woFsrkPGyOlSxH08JWqRiIcG_s4mjjUZJ98xhneDhGNSgL_N3ThtR7ccG_X_FbxsNTQeIVEf_fkaOC6ZZtu7WgHwI5MUhIuHUFC0cn6lAAqNwEzunxJi10/s400/IMG_7041.jpg" width="300" /></a>Usually when people talk about synchronicity, there's a positive connotation. But folks can become hyper-senstitive to things they <i>don't</i> like as well. Sometimes especially if they try to ignore it. This starts crossing into the territory of the <i>Shadow</i> - the idea that what we hate most in others is what we don't like about ourselves; as the lyric says: "<i>those little imperfections...just a mirror reflection</i>."<br />
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The real question, though, is - does it matter? If there is an explanation for <i>why</i> we're noticing something, does that make it less important? Our brains are wired to notice things that are helpful to us - that's how evolution and survival work. The best things and the worst things - we're designed to notice what will best enable us to live the life we want. <br />
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On a deep level, whether mystical or not, there has to be some knowledge of the path that would best fit with who we want to be in this world. It's the connection to that knowledge that can wax and wane. I think that's why people so often enjoy synchronicity - it helps them feel connected to something that is at the same time deeper, but also more vast. We like to look back and find connections between events and decisions and find a path that leads us to a better place.<br />
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Nine months ago I met Talisker 10 for the first time - enough time ago to grow a whole new life. In some ways this journey has created a new life for me; I've met many new Scotches, and had many new experiences that I never would have if it were not for that first sweet, smoky sip of Talisker. And the journey continues...<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-45309252402821808632017-02-14T16:54:00.000-08:002017-04-07T18:04:25.176-07:00UigeadailThe other evening I met a friend to catch up and have a wee dram. I hadn't intended to meet a new lad that evening, but as things unfolded, it turned out that I would...<br />
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One of the Ardbeg boys, <b>Uigeadail</b> was sitting unassumingly on the shelf; when I spotted him, I knew I had to meet him. The two other brothers I had met, Corry and the 10 year, also had the same alluring green bottle with celtic designs on the label. Each enticed me in their own way with the smoky sweetness I look for. The word among those who know them, is that Uigeadail is the best of the three.<br />
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In speaking with our bartender, Codi, I noticed a spectacular tattoo in progress on her arm. I didn't get a picture of it, but it was an outline of an impressive pirate ship. Codi explained to us that it was her own spin on a representation of her astrological sign of Pisces - related to the water, but not the typical waves or fish symbol. <br />
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Ugigeadail means "Dark and Mysterious Place", and as such would probably
have been well paired with the Black Water song from last
time. However, sometimes even though things seem like they would fit
together, life doesn't arrange them to be so.<br />
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In honor of our bartender's adventurous spirit, I share with you a song about Gráinne
O'Malley, a fierce, legendary pirate queen from Ireland. Find a spicy dram to dare and drink as you listen to this exciting version of <i>Óró, Sé do Bheatha 'Bhaile.</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_7zXW56d-sDXCrSLs0wScdqC2BClcKZAmV9X_bLIgAc4diClIoty7MhRlNLvswRagBZRFcS4myG4ZY5RFFDufknWNcoGCRQXMcTSn2RsdKjQcqOuG9V0ZspE6akzF2LgFTKH_OFbgag/s1600/20170210_154434.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_7zXW56d-sDXCrSLs0wScdqC2BClcKZAmV9X_bLIgAc4diClIoty7MhRlNLvswRagBZRFcS4myG4ZY5RFFDufknWNcoGCRQXMcTSn2RsdKjQcqOuG9V0ZspE6akzF2LgFTKH_OFbgag/s400/20170210_154434.jpg" width="251" /></a> Uigeadail's nose was smoky and strong, but all bonfire and wood, none of the meat smoke scent that some of the others have. I savored the smell for some time before I ventured a first taste, relishing the delicious peatiness. When I finally sipped a small bit, it was clear that Uige was strong, but the sweet spiciness rose up to match the smoky flavor in a wonderful dance of flavors. <br />
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A bit of water softened the peat to his nose, but only made the taste of him stronger. As he opened further, more flavors were revealed. I sensed a bit of salty sea in his nose, and tasted flits of peach and butterscotch on my tongue. He was quite a pleasure to be with.<br />
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My friend and I chatted about different things, and spent a good bit of time discussing the choices we make in life with regard to how we spend our short time here on this earth. So many get caught in the net of others' judgements and ideas, and waste so much precious time chasing things they don't even want. It can be hard to keep a steady course in this world when everywhere you turn people are telling you their own version of the truth. <br />
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The pirate ship on our bartender's arm is a perfect example of navigating the waters of other people's expectations. She took a common theme, but made it her own. That kind
of thing is what we all need to do. Take the world in, and then put our own spin
on things; listen to our own deepest truths, and then express them back into the
world as best we can. It's something that seems to be harder and harder
to do in this world, but is crucial for the health of our souls.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTE5DCl1-97YpZpgNoVS7KJhFuLt7-SuDSgcZhlYOaG2QAeUL-AlGnpz33t8fUn-lcaQFepLYd-oZZeou_Ht4nEfIc4XeYWIL3BEf4o4eDrPeQu4X86VrvR89pYmFerDb2LWdqkIfDBU/s1600/20170210_154419.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTE5DCl1-97YpZpgNoVS7KJhFuLt7-SuDSgcZhlYOaG2QAeUL-AlGnpz33t8fUn-lcaQFepLYd-oZZeou_Ht4nEfIc4XeYWIL3BEf4o4eDrPeQu4X86VrvR89pYmFerDb2LWdqkIfDBU/s320/20170210_154419.jpg" width="210" /></a>Even though the three Ardbegs all have similarities, and all come from the same distillery, they all have their distinct differences, strengths and weaknesses. As I got to know Uige better as the evening progressed I did notice a tinge of dry bitterness in the finish, but it wasn't harsh or unpleasant. He's a warm lad, peppery notes pervading the sweetness and the smoke. He's one I want to have alongside Talisker one day to see how close my affections for them are. <br />
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Uigeadail is a strong, spirited Scotch. I imagine it's the sort that a Pirate Queen would prefer, or any person fighting their way in the world, to stay true to herself.<br />
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<i>Sláinte!</i></h3>
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-5926556467686934342017-02-09T12:41:00.000-08:002018-06-03T07:04:29.043-07:00Black WaterI heard an interview with Paul Auster on the radio the other day discussing his newest book. He related a story from when he was 14 years old - where another boy was struck and killed by lightning, just inches away from him. Understandably, this has affected him his entire life. An event like this - where chance cherry picks one person over another for some extreme event - inevitably causes a person to question: <i>what if?, why them?, why not me?,</i> and ultimately, <i>what <b>now</b>?</i> For the human mind, which seems wired for finding patterns and creating order, the constant chaos of our experiences certainly give us a lot to work with. Life has a steadfast commitment to unpredictability.<br />
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On my tasting outing this week, I discovered Red & The Romantics playing at The Whisky Jar. It's a regular Monday night gig for them, apparently, although it was my first time. This song of theirs is the most fitting to share, about the river of time - <i>Black Water</i>:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7hrZgd4BvendUnL56JlzkYNZfd4PSMx9UvY_xuKP0bh9jkkyiXuurUomAI2p4f8n1L4xn9XgM37sKlVHdcWL9-kecCvFvA0-2PcwC_CE1Fzdo-HWLOH4SDxkSGbtj2zJpffoYEyN2aE/s1600/IMG_6998.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp7hrZgd4BvendUnL56JlzkYNZfd4PSMx9UvY_xuKP0bh9jkkyiXuurUomAI2p4f8n1L4xn9XgM37sKlVHdcWL9-kecCvFvA0-2PcwC_CE1Fzdo-HWLOH4SDxkSGbtj2zJpffoYEyN2aE/s200/IMG_6998.jpg" width="179" /></a>Before the whisky tasting, I met a friend for dinner at Revolutionary Soup on the downtown mall. We had a lovely meal of soup, salad, and a wrap. Always delicious, with often local and organic ingredients, this is one of my favorite dining spots in Cville.<br />
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I discovered a fun thing there that I hadn't noticed before: one of the tables is an old chess board with a small drawer built in. There is a little note inviting patrons to write a few words to leave in the drawer for future folks to discover. I've seen this sort of thing in coffee shops before, and I love the idea, in theory.<br />
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I shuffled through the pile of napkins, bottlecaps, and scraps of paper, reading snippets of strangers' days. Some were silly, some were sad, some poetic, hopeful, and/or mysterious. While I was mildly interested or intrigued by a few, for the most part they seemed wholly inconsequential. And of course, why wouldn't they be? Such an open invitation for connection between total strangers seems a bit like a shot in the dark. But there is something in such contrived randomness, isn't there? It leaves us hoping...even expecting, to discover something profound.<br />
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After our meal, my friend and I wandered over to the Whisky Jar to see what we could find. The band was jamming, and a beautiful sound of lively music and Red's deep, soulful voice filled the room. We sat down at the bar and were greeted by the super chill bartenders.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Romaine and Matt, my kind and friendly bartenders. </td></tr>
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I scanned the long menu of Scotches and was intending to try a new Islay, when I saw the listing of another variety that I had heard of: from the Orkney Isles - <b>Highland Park Dark Origins</b>. The mysterious name hooked me, so I ordered a dram.<br />
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I had tried the HP before, but wasn't impressed. This one was much nicer than I remembered the 10 year being. Reading a bit up on his background, I learned the name <i>Dark Origins</i> is a tribute to the distillery's early years, being somewhat of a black market operation when it first began. Dark Origins is aged completely in Sherry casks, most of them first-fill. This lends much to his character.<br />
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The nose was sweet, and the first taste deliciously creamy. Adding water didn't change much, however. If anything his nose became softer and lighter. Dark Origins, although technically not from the Highland region, reminded me of my favorite Highland lads, perhaps with a richer and slighlty more vanilla flavor.<br />
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The founding of HP's distillery is credited to Magnus Eunson, who apparently had the respectable positions of butcher and church official during the day, but who would smuggle whisky in the darker hours. Of course, there are questions around the facts of it all, and much must be left to the imagination.<br />
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As the night continued, I got to know the Orkney lad a little more. He was quite enjoyable overall. At times I tasted a hint of banana, and at others a bit of lemon or citrus, or a hint of smoke or ash. There was a salty, briney aspect that I've come to associate with the Island Scotches, and through it all a buttery caramel taste that was delightful. I wondered what the original Highland Park whisky would have tasted like, and if Magnus Eunson ever considered what his illicit actions might lead to hundreds of years in the future.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNoO1F82nm4sNGRYUerrbKhfSpQsl3HQtc5DrRmq0B66UXAtsHc3nDsx8U9570QgbIqHzZy55ckawPjaFI5kpBx8aFVKNDmOME3ntsgGtoP81JOpjz2Yfwlm1QKFOToKTE-H4_JFHQ-A/s1600/IMG_7000.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDNoO1F82nm4sNGRYUerrbKhfSpQsl3HQtc5DrRmq0B66UXAtsHc3nDsx8U9570QgbIqHzZy55ckawPjaFI5kpBx8aFVKNDmOME3ntsgGtoP81JOpjz2Yfwlm1QKFOToKTE-H4_JFHQ-A/s400/IMG_7000.jpg" width="307" /></a>Much like the influence of the unpredictable and chaotic aspects of life, there is a romanticizing of history that comes with the passage of time. Whatever begins simply as missing facts or holes in a story soon blooms into a a shroud of mystery, and that is very satisfying. For truly, we are all romantic creatures at heart - searching for meaning and inspiration in our daily lives, so that we, in turn, may provide that for others.<br />
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I'll leave you with the words of Red & The Romantics: <i>"The black water flows where nobody knows, and disappears into the night, so take down the bottle and let's have toast - to love, to death, and to life!"</i><br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6491762465220184919.post-74738796544555213752017-02-01T12:43:00.000-08:002017-02-01T22:29:10.507-08:00McClelland's IslayThe 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, <i>My Heart's in the Highlands.</i> Take a listen and sip your sweetest, and let the Scotch and the Song transport you to the beautiful hills of Scotland...<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFuoG468ENozMxsWprQq1NfZ9_2GfnvSUqZ7GYJgT40g2-Ab4QLaLjJR2VX22J9ARonaFaQ4KWdDQJmG9Tfsc3wj_gYEI6_g63CjHQ91Zjpk720TmX9DoZ3ZyDkqZNEt3_OqKQHOOgwQ/s1600/IMG_6977.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvFuoG468ENozMxsWprQq1NfZ9_2GfnvSUqZ7GYJgT40g2-Ab4QLaLjJR2VX22J9ARonaFaQ4KWdDQJmG9Tfsc3wj_gYEI6_g63CjHQ91Zjpk720TmX9DoZ3ZyDkqZNEt3_OqKQHOOgwQ/s320/IMG_6977.jpg" width="128" /></a>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTjftIHLVb1eKYuu-2gDLGywdnuwCib28FtelXA6bu2nzhLO8WngaNhb71sjI9mdob1WhlGMEuAfjjFRlIhELiPXLVnhcD1LgnrmraRHWc0YS2VzVRn9DFSq3lWyptZa04YApCZJbVHo/s1600/IMG_6983+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKTjftIHLVb1eKYuu-2gDLGywdnuwCib28FtelXA6bu2nzhLO8WngaNhb71sjI9mdob1WhlGMEuAfjjFRlIhELiPXLVnhcD1LgnrmraRHWc0YS2VzVRn9DFSq3lWyptZa04YApCZJbVHo/s200/IMG_6983+%25281%2529.jpg" width="142" /></a>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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?<br />
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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 "<i>Great chieftan o' the pudding-race!</i>"<br />
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<br />Sherryhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16701003278649053296noreply@blogger.com0Louisa, VA 23093, USA38.0251394 -78.00416489999997838.0001214 -78.044505399999977 38.0501574 -77.963824399999979