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...

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.

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!"

Scotchtoberfest

A friend of mine is a fellow lover of Scotch. He's been tasting and exploring the expressions of this fine spirit for much longer than I have, and was one of my first introductions to the vast number of possibilities that become open to you once you enter this world. The last time he had a gathering I had not yet had my senses enlightened to the love of this liquor, but this time...things were different.

Just a small sampling of his collection scattered about the table...

The night before the party I had gone to a free concert at the IX Art Park and heard this amazing band for the first time. Their music was passionate, the vibe was thrilling, and the night was perfect. One of their songs that struck me especially is called Love is Better. A line from the lyrics says: "I don't know, but I think I feel alright, there's something about tonight that makes me crazy...I don't know, don't think about the future, don't wonder where it's going, I just hang on..." Take a listen to the feel-good in-the-moment groove of Baaba Seth:

I ended up meeting five new Scotches that evening. One I didn't really like, one I spent the most time with, and one was a mysterious stranger that I only crossed paths with just as I was leaving...

Laphroaig Quarter Cask was the first. A night like this, where I meet so many new whiskies in such a short period of time and when there are other things distracting me from giving them my complete attention, always presents a challenge for really getting to know a Scotch. But in many ways it's fun to not have to focus in, but just let the night flow as it will.  As Baaba Seth says, "don't think about it...just do it...do what you want."

I liked the Quarter Cask, but I remember feeling like he was different from my first memory of Laphroaig, just as I found with the Triple Wood a few weeks ago. It may be that I need to look up the original Laphroaig again and spend some quality time really getting to know him.
 


The next one I tried was Oban Little Bay. I remember liking Oban 14, except for an after taste that I just couldn't agree with. The Little Bay was pleasant all around. I  don't remember any specifics, but he didn't have that disagreeable flavor that I remember from the other Oban I met. I'd like to hang out with the Little Bay again.




When I arrived at my friend's house, folks were mostly gathered around a bonfire outside, and the moon had only just begun to rise. With a little prompting, our host graciously played us a few tunes on his highland pipes - to honor the birthplace of the sweet spirit that was our gathering's namesake, and to serenade the rising moon...

The night of the party was a full "supermoon" in Aries. From what I've read, the astrological implications of this involve an acknowledgement of the past influences for clearing out old energies and old wounds, and a welcoming in of  the "wildcard" rebirthing energy of this moon. Sounds like a perfect combination to me!

mmm..pumpkin spice

The next two Scotches I met were a hand-imported Scapa 12 year old cask strength, and Balvenie Caribbean Cask 14 year. The Scapa was strong, and that is always exciting, but I wasn't that impressed with him otherwise. The Balvenie intrigued me because of the Rum Casks, and I kept returning to him throughout the night for more conversation. 

My friend, apart from his many other talents, also is a creator of delicious alcoholic ice cream. I had the privilege of trying a brand new flavor that evening: pumpkin spice. Always a seasonal favorite, the characteristic flavor for the ice cream came from Baily's Pumpkin Spice liqueur.  It might have been the pumpkin spice, or it might have been the gourmet s'mores we had (complete with sea salt chocolate and cinnamon graham crackers), but later in the evening I started to taste cinnamon in all the Scotches I was meeting. It might not have given me the most accurate impression or representation of the different whiskies, but it was a beautiful thing.

The evening continued with laughter and stories. It was such perfect Autumn weather, with just a hint of chill in the air, a beautiful moon, a welcoming fire, and friendly, interesting folks to share it with.

As the moon climbed higher in the sky and the hour grew late, it became time for me to head home. As I was leaving, my friend brought out a special bottle that had been hiding in the back for most of the evening. This one was also hand carried from Scotland, and I had heard stories of the legend behind the distillery, but had never heard much else about the whisky itself.


It was such a small taste, as I was about to drive home, but it was so good, and I was very sorry that I couldn't stay and learn more about this one.

The night was wonderful, and I was so grateful as I drove home thinking of all the elements from the evening - the Scotch, the Song, and the Soul.


Perhaps it was the unfair advantage of the mysterious, and the allure of the just-out-of-reach...but of all the Scotches I tasted that night, Cù Bòcan is the one I most want to meet again. Hopefully I will have that chance before too long.

Beeswing

As the season turns, so I return to the series of single-dram tastings with Laphroaig Triple Wood.

The equinox has come and passed, and the days grow cooler and shorter, turning fully towards Autumn. I feel like it's been a long time since I've spent time with any of the Scotches, so it feels good to meet someone new tonight. It's been longer still since I've met a new fella out and about. These single dram tastings at home are lovely, but I think it does take a certain element out of the experience. In a way it's like internet dating: I get to know the Scotches in many ways, but it's not quite the same as meeting them in the traditional way.

For one, I don't get to see the Scotches in their bottles; this doesn't affect my impression too much, but I do like to know how they present themselves. There is also the excitement of being in a different environment surrounded by strangers, but creating a little world unto myself, my Scotch-of-the-evening, and whatever chemistry may be sparked between us...

The song for tonight is called "Beeswing." For those who have known the spirit of restlessness, whether in themselves or those they have loved and lost...pour a dram and listen to this bittersweet timeless tale:

Triple Wood. At first, from the bottle, I smelled the sweet smokiness I love. It was good to be savoring it again. Once in the glass, his nose seemed a bit sharper. At first sip, he was warm and sweet. The smoky flavor was strong, and there was a bit of salty brine in the finish.

After adding a bit of water it opened him up so I could sense more smoke in the nose. He had a bright, exciting feel, and a light, fun sense to him. He was very enjoyable.

 

As the night went on, I noticed a strong creamy flavor in his sweetness. Throughout all there was that finish of salt or brine that became stronger the longer it lingered. It may be a flavor I have yet to name. Almost a bit bitter, it wasn't unlikable - just notable. 

I was surprised to not taste any of the cinnamon that was there in the first Laphroaig I had tried. There was definitely spice to the Triple Wood, but not distinct enough for me to identify. 

Overall, Laphroaig Triple Wood was a great Scotch, and such welcome company on this quiet Autumn evening. I'd love to spend another night with him sometime, and would probably choose him over many of the others I've met should we cross paths out at a bar somewhere.

I've been told there is gypsy blood in my family line. I cannot deny the restless spirit and longing for new experiences that comes with that. Often life forces us to choose between two desires: do we embrace the security of stability or take the risk inherent in freedom. A line from the song says:

"Maybe that's just the price you pay for the chains that you refuse." 

It is left to us to decide if that is a worthwhile price. Or for folks like myself, who want the best of both worlds, perhaps there is a way to find a security in the freedom itself...

It will be good to get back to the nightlife scene out-on-the-town, but I won't pretend I didn't enjoy the comfort and relaxation of sipping Scotch in my room with the cool night breeze gently carrying cricket song past my window.