There Will Never Be Another You

This 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.

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.

The group was called LG & Friends 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, There Will Never Be Another You. Take a listen and enjoy a dram of one of your irreplaceable favorites:

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.

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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.


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.

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.

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.

To quote the lyrics of the song:

There will be many other nights like this,
And I'll be standing here with someone new,
There will be other songs to sing, another fall, another spring,
But there will never be another you.

'Tis true, but even so - the journey, or at least *a* journey, - continues...

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!

 

Parachute

Two 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.

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: "you only need a drink when the whisky is the only thing you have left to hold." 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 Parachute. 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:

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.

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.


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.


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...

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.

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.


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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Lagavulin 8

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.

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, Take On Me. 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.

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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.


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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Uigeadail

The 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...

One of the Ardbeg boys, Uigeadail 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.


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. 
 

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.


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  Óró, Sé do Bheatha 'Bhaile.

 

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.


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.


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.

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.

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.

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.

Sláinte!

McClelland's Islay

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

Selfish Art

Today was a warm day for winter; a gentle, steady rain continued to fall from the overcast sky as it has had a wont for doing this week. It was perfect weather to meet a new Scotch, so I went downtown to meet a friend for a drink.

It's getting harder to find new places that have single malts I haven't tried, and especially since I've decided to stick with the peaty ones. Luck was on my side this evening though, as we decided to visit Commonwealth Restaurant and discovered a lovely collection of Scotches.

It was a quiet evening at the bar, and my friend and I basically had Erek the bartender entirely to ourselves. I was happy to learn that they usually carried Talisker, even if he wasn't there this evening.

There were some great songs playing on the radio at the bar, the volume just barely audible so the music almost seemed dream-like. This was fitting as several of the songs were versions we had never heard of otherwise familiar tunes, adding to the surreal effect.

It was a good night for music overall, as later that evening I discovered Noah Gundersen while listening to the radio on my way home. I was so captivated by his voice, lyrics, and melodies that I stayed in my car long after I parked, just to hear the show until the end and find out who it was.

The last song he played in the set, I thought fitting to share here. It's a song about songwriting, meaning, and doubt. If you find yourself in a rainy day sort of way, find a blanket, pour a dram, and learn of the sincerity of Selfish Art:

At Commonwealth, I noticed two bottles of Ardbeg right away; I recognized Corryvrecken who I had tasted months ago, but was unsure of the other. It turned out to be the 10 year; I had met that one briefly at the end of one night during Thanksgiving holiday, but I felt a proper meeting was due.

Erek the bartender

 

&

 

Ardbeg 10

The strong peaty nose was evident even before the glass reached my lips. It was a deep meaty smoke scent, that really I've only found in a few others thus far. First taste revealed a solid character. He was balanced with spice and smoke, and just strong enough.  Adding a bit of water softened the nose a bit, but the meatiness of the smoke was still there. The flavors blended some, but didn't really change his personality. A little more of the brine came forward, and I realized that he had all those qualities that I loved. As I sipped this Scotch and chatted with my friend, I realized I was going to have to put him side-by-side with Talisker sometime. Ardbeg 10 is that good.

Noah's lyrics in the song above ask "Am I giving all that I can give, Am I earning the right to live?" I often wonder this myself, and the sentiment has also visited conversations with this particular friend before. We talked of many things from politics to agave plants. We've each had our tough times in recent years, but have decided that 2017 is the official "Year to Make Shit Happen."  Solemn vows such as these - sworn while sipping whisky on rainy days in quiet bars with friends - these vows have a powerful momentum.


Erek's preference in Scotches falls on another part of the Island - the Highlands. I asked him what his current favorite was, and he offered me a wee sip of Glenmorange Quinta Ruban.


I love the sleek elegance of this bottle for its shape and it's classy black and gold label. The whisky has a pinkish hue, which reflects its name, as Ruban is Gaelic for ruby. He had an airy, light nose and flavor. Sweet for sure, and probably seemed more so in contrast to Ardbeg. There was a slight medicinal flavor and I suppose if I have time to converse with him longer I would discover many more subtleties to this handsome Highland.



Having worked up a hunger, we decided to go across the street for some dinner. Outside we we happened upon two lovely women looking striking against the shiny evening. It was a photo-op we had to take advantage of.

 

I had never been to Draft Taproom before and the food was suprisingly, amazingly delicious! I had the brussels sprouts with spicy aioli, and my friend had the pierogies. With a neat system of serve yourself taps and a wide selection of brews, it's truly a great spot that I will have to visit again.

Rain offers a great amount of poetic potential to an evening. What is dull can turn to shine; what is sharp may be softened; and on every surface from walls to ground - light is reflected, insipring reflection.


My friend and I said our goodbyes and headed off into the drizzle laden night. I walked to my car, serenaded by the rhythmic fall of raindrops on cobblestone, thinking on what lies ahead, but happy in the moment.

 

Dalwhinnie 15

The new year has started off with busyness that is too much a reminder of yesteryear. I am a lover of resolutions though, and although I am continually making changes and new goals throughout my days, I find January an especially fitting time to refresh this process. In with the new! (And absolutely out with the old.)

I find I am different than most in the regard that I don't have unreasonable expectations of myself in terms of growth and change. I know change is challenging, and it often takes time and repeated efforts. Normally I can get my new year's plans off to a good start within the first week or so. This year, though, I'm going to need the whole month.

I managed to escape from duties the other night to meet a new Scotch. It was a cold and rainy night, and I teetered for a minute with deciding to stay in. I made my way out into the night though, and was pleasantly surprised when I walked through the door of Miller's to see Matthew O'Donnell setting up for an apparently impromptu show. I smiled, thinking of my last post and the beauty of serendipity.

Matthew is a fellow Irish musician, but of a caliber way beyond my realm of skill. I'm not sure there is an instrument he doesn't play, and he has a deep, rich singing voice besides. It was quite a treat to stumble upon his show this Tuesday evening.

In honor of the gifts of chance, close your eyes, pick a bottle, and pour yourself a dram to enjoy while listening to a time-honored classic, Whisky in the Jar:

Miller's has proven a wonderful place to visit thus far in my journey to find the perfect Scotch. However, I have tried almost all of the ones they carry at this point, and definitely all of the Islays. So I ordered a Highland lad that I have heard good things about, knowing it would lead to nothing more than a lovely conversation - Dalwhinnie 15.


I like the Highland lads; I don't recall one I've met that was unpleasant, and Dalwhinnie lived up to that reputation. His nose was mild, with a distant and subdued sense to it, and a bit of spice. Tasting revealed notes of cinnamon, which I enjoyed.


I found him to be a kind and friendly sort of Scotch. After adding a bit of water his flavor opened a bit, bringing his spice more into my awareness, and revealing a sweet caramel scent to his nose. I'd say he was one of the more enjoyable Highlands actually, but even so...I missed the smoky peat of my Islay and Island lads.

When I first arrived at the bar it was fairly empty, but half way through my dram the door opened and a large group of jovial folks poured in and immediately started ordering drinks and shouting out requests to Matthew. Just like that, the vibe of the evening shifted.

When he next had a moment, I asked Drew the bartender if this was a usual Tuesday crowd. "No," was his reply, "there's usually no one here." I was glad for both him and Matthew, hoping the rowdy crowd would be generous in their tipping.

Reading the crowd, Matthew departed from the usual folk tunes that I've always heard him play into a random assortment of more mainstream songs.


From Take Me Home Country Roads, to Mumford & Son's Little Lion Man, to Love The Way You Lie by Eminem - he encouraged the less-than-sober audience to sing along, and I happily did my part. Between enjoying the music and watching the crowd's interactions, I was highly entertained and grateful for the surprising turn of events. I had only planned to stay a short while, not expecting much from the evening, but now I didn't want to leave.

I had finished my chat with Dalwhinnie, however, so decided to have another meeting with the Islay from a few weeks ago - Bunnahabhain 15.

As I relaxed into my new dram, I mused on the art of performance. Besides being a musician (and the artistic talent, skill, and dedication required for that) being a performer is an entire art unto itself. There's a degree of acting involved in it, especially for those who are generally introverts. But being an actor, to me, doesn't imply that one is a good performer. Charm, I'd say is probably the most important element in performing - whether it be natural or part of the acting. To be able to engage the audience in a way that draws their attention, involving them, and often making them feel as if the show is being presented specifically for them - these are the things that make a good performer.

This occupation, which may seem frivolous and extraneous on the surface, is quite essential to the well-being of a society. For in a world with no shortage of pain and heartache, we need folks who will inspire us, make us laugh, and remind us that there is a reason for living. Good performers do all of this and more. It is a skill I'd love to develop more in myself, as I think the world may need more reminders of these things in the coming days.

Matthew alternated back and forth between the folk music and the more popular songs, engaging the crowd all the while. I sipped my Scotch and enjoyed the Islay spunk that I had missed. Between the Scotch, the Song, and the Soul - for the rest of the evening, I found a restorative moment of joy amidst whatever else life may be filled with.