What the Water Gave Me

Some time ago, I had this notion of learning to live life by embracing the chaos. 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 - what if I just lean into it?  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.

It's a lesson I often forget, but life kindly 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 surf the chaos.

 

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.

In honor of chaotic mystery, here is a taste of one of my favorite artists, Florence and the Machine. 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...

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.

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.

 

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.

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.

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.


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.

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?

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.

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.

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.



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.

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!

 

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.