Wantin' Ain't Gettin'

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...  Should I bother trying a Scotch that I know is no longer available? 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?

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.

On the way downtown that night, I heard Esmé Patterson 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 Wantin' Ain't Gettin'. Take a listen to her sultry sweet voice sing about this simple truth of life:

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? 

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, Steve and McCraigan, shook their heads, but called over the off-duty Matt who happened to be there at the moment.

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 did 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...


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. 

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. 


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.


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.

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. 

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.

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. 

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.

Caol Ila 15

I 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...

As I walked past him, I called "have a good night!" His response was kind and humbling, as he offered to share some fruit with me (strawberries or bananas) and when I declined, he said, "as long as you're not hungry." 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.

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.

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 Trey Anastasio of Phish.

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 Miss You:

When I finally made my way up to the bar, I was not disappointed by their selection:

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. 

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.

In small, unassuming writing, the words "Unpeated Style" 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.

I was somewhat comforted by the words right below the mocking betrayal, because this lad was natural cask strength; 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.

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.

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.


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.

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!

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, why would you not peat an Islay? 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.

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.

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.

Blind Love

A 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.

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. 


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 Hard Swimmin' Fish, 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.

One of the original songs they performed right before we left was called Blind Love. It's apparently the first part of a story that continues in a later song of theirs. One of the lyrics especially struck me: "It's those little imperfections, that are so often times, just a mirror reflection.." 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...

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.


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.

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.

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.

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?

Usually when people talk about synchronicity, there's a positive connotation. But folks can become hyper-senstitive to things they don't like as well. Sometimes especially if they try to ignore it. This starts crossing into the territory of the Shadow - the idea that what we hate most in others is what we don't like about ourselves; as the lyric says: "those little imperfections...just a mirror reflection."

The real question, though, is - does it matter? If there is an explanation for why 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. 

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.

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...