Wedding Cake

I went to see a friend play music the other night at Step-N-Out. He knew I was a fan of Scotches, so he introduced me to a fellow at the bar there. Cutty Sark. I knew before we met that he wasn't single, but my friend thought we might get along. I was glad there seemed to be no real interest on either of our parts; I've learned that messing with the ones that aren't single just leads to trouble.

I later found out, that not only is Cutty Sark blended, but he is actually married, which is a rare thing among Scotches apparently (see reference here). It's an old tradition that most blends don't bother with these days. Marriage is a less popular thing than it used to be outside of the Scotch world as well. Check out my friend Steven Ramsey's song about Wedding Cake and see if you agree.

About Cutty Sark...he seemed nice enough, but his nose was very off-putting. The very first time a Scotch ever passed my lips was way back in the day in my college years. I took one sip, and swore that my friends had given me rubbing alcohol. I never touched another Scotch for the rest of my academic career and for many years after. Never, in fact, until this recent rediscovery.  

I have a theory about whisky in general: you have to reach a certain point in life before you really start to appreciate it - the point when the burn of life makes the burn of the whisky pale in comparison. It seems I have reached that point.

The scent of this one reminded me of that time in college, though. This, and the awareness of his blended status...it made for quite an awkward situation. I tried to taste the flavors anyway, and get to know him. Truly, he seemed a bit worn around the edges - as if I tasted notes that might have once been there, but had since faded, leaving only an echo of spice and sweetness.

We enjoyed the evening together, maintaining a polite conversation and keeping our respective boundaries. He wasn't a bad guy, but this meeting reinforced my decision to stick with the single malts. Getting involved with a married guy is just not worth it, after all.

Despite whatever discomfort the whisky might have created, I at least got to listen to my friend play his music, and chat with his friends and family as well. And next time I go there, if there are no single malts available, I'll just stick to beer.

I think it best to not post photographic evidence of my night with a married Scotch, but here is his label, for reference: