When Fallen Angels Fly

I was on a group retreat of sorts this weekend. We each had our own things we were working on, and different issues we hoped to gain some clarity on. There were, however, some common themes that ran through many of our journeys. One of these was the idea of brokenness. More specifically, the opportunity that can be found in our trials and tragedies for a breaking open - making room for growth or the chance to become something greater. 

The japanese art of kintsukuroi does just this, and it is a beloved metaphor for the alchemy of the heart. We can take what was is broken and lost within us and mend it with gold - becoming greater in value and more beautiful than before.

Patty Loveless sings here of Fallen angels and mended wings; if you can relate, break open a bottle and pour yourself a glass of golden elixir as I tell you of the tasting of Caol Ila 12.

My housemate and I had gone salsa dancing, and upon returning home decided to have a snack and some whisky. I introduced him to Talisker Storm since they hadn't met. For myself, I opened the second single-dram sample from the gift set my friend bought me.

Bringing the small bottle to my nose upon opening, I found that strong bacon smell, just like Talisker Storm had when I first met him. After pouring into the glass, the nose was softer with perhaps some fruity tones. The first sip and my immediate thought was silky. Caol Ila was smooth and hot; I was impressed.



Adding the water opened him up a bit, and I found him sweet and smoky, with a bit of briny flavor, and still so smooth. While I don't remember Talisker being smooth like that, in so many ways Caol reminded me of him. "Gosh," I thought to myself,  "if someone told me this was Talisker I was drinking, I would believe them."

As my housemate and I conversed over whisky and fruity-tasting avocado, the idea of "faking it till you make it" came up. He offered this nugget of wisdom:

"No one really knows how to do anything; we're all just faking it. But if you know how to start something, you have an advantage over most."

Is that true? Is that the key to succeeding at anything - just jumping in and figuring it out as you go? It may very well be. Something I've learned in life is that you need to set goals, and start down a path to reach them. Another thing I've learned is that life will almost always make that road shift, and you better be ready to change your goals.


It's a fine, faded, and sinuous line between which is the better quality on this journey - determination or flexibility.  And it's that very elusive line that life challenges us to travel on.

Something can seem so sure and real and lasting, and then we come around a bend, and our entire perspective has shifted. What seemed entirely un-doubtable becomes suddenly that, and as the small cracks form in our faith, our confidence, and our resolve...we have a choice.

Do we leave the broken dreams there in the dust, or do we carry on with them, and fill the cracks with gold?

I'm not ready to move on from Talisker quite yet, but as I more frequently am finding Scotches that I want to explore further, I realize part of his mystique is being challenged. I at least need to taste these two side by side; the similarities to me are too close. Talisker was right there, and I could have done it then, but since this was my first meeting with Caol, it didn't feel right. I think Talisker has more of sarcastic bite to him - Caol is probably smoother, and Talisker may be a little deeper in complexity, but I'm not entirely sure which of the two I would prefer. 

 

It's been a while since I bought a bottle to take home with me, but this one is next in line for sure. One step at a time on this journey, and I'll see where it takes me.

Bowmore Tempest

A dear friend of mine gifted me with an Islay Scotch tasting sampler from Master of Malt. There are five separate individual drams - only one of which I've already tasted.

So this begins a short series in single-dram-bottle samplings. Quiet nights at home with the music, myself, and the Scotch-of-the-evening. Tonight the lucky fella was Bowmore Tempest - 10 year old - Batch 5. I'll admit the "Tempest" in the name is what got me on choosing him to be the first. 

I've been hearing a lot of great music lately that I've wanted to share, in case you haven't heard. Cozy up with your chosen dram and listen to Song for Zula by Phosphorescent:

The lyrics begin with talk of fire, as the first scent of Bowmore calls to mind - with the solid peat that reminds me of Talisker Storm. In the glass, Bowmore is a pretty golden color. As I took a moment to get to know his nose, I lost the sense of the smoky for a bit. There seemed to be an overtone of (dare I say it?) ... acetone.  Nail polish remover? That wasn't a hopeful first meeting thought. The scent also had a hint of sweetness as well, though. I swirled the glass, hoping the sweet smoke would drown out the more unpleasant associations, and I took my first sip.

Before he barely touched my tongue I tasted spice, and quickly after, a melt-in-my-mouth warmth that washed away all sense of anything else. Then the spicy hit again at the end. This was all before any water was added; after a few drops I didn't notice much change, although I tasted a creamy vanilla note. Adding a wee bit more water still didn't make a big difference, but the smoky scent and flavor seemed to return.

I found Bowmore to have a very clean finish, once the melting sensation was gone, not much was left to linger.  He reminded me of some of the other, stronger lads I've tried - Octomore and Corryvrecken. Bow isn't quite as strong as either of those, but at 55.9%, he comes very close.  As our conversation continued I found notes of pepper, and was distinctly aware of the ever-present heat of him.

I've heard that if you leave a Scotch sitting for a bit, it allows more of its flavors to come through...so I took my time with Bowmore, pausing for long stretches of time between sips to see what else might be revealed.

It's all so personal. The way we taste the flavors, of course, but the way we describe them as well, and so much of it is directly dependent on our mood. Just as a favorite Scotch might seem off-putting and unfamiliar in certain states of mind, so can an average one seem more alluring if the stars align and the setting is right.

I pondered these things as the music played and found myself quite enjoying the nuances of Bowmore. I found that his nose had a soft smoke:

Like coming upon the last embers on a beach walk, in the early morning at sunrise, - the sea-salt breeze playing cats cradle with the remnants of firesmoke from the night before - twirling it in and out of perception.  

There is a beautiful moment when something clicks. Often involving a comprehension of sorts - whether it be of a joke, a logical problem, or a physical or artistic endeavor that one has worked at mastering for years - this moment of settled clarity is truly awesome.

It can be as simple as the moment of having something on the tip of your tongue, just out of reach, and then finally recalling it. Or in writing, it can be the moment when you find the exact right word or phrase to describe what you are wanting to express.

And sometimes that moment is in the shift that happens when you have finally let go of something or someone that you had held on to for far too long. A spell is broken. Or a spell is cast. Whether the beginning or ending, once something clicks - it's rare that you can ever go back. Take a listen, and let B.B. King explain...

When I finished the dram of Bowmore, there was a taste of sweet salty smoke that remained. I've finally settled into identifying that certain flavor I have tasted as brine - or sea salt. It's a flavor note I love to have in my Scotch. 

Bowmore was lovely, but he wasn't my Talisker. A sweet Islay I would enjoy dancing with again, but lacking a certain depth and balance that I find in the Storm. And so the journey continues...

Lowlands

As I mentioned in my last post, I've been overbooking myself. Despite this, I have managed to continue meeting new Scotches, but I have found myself more distracted than I'd prefer on those nights. The other evening I visited The Blue Moon Diner to see a few friends play in their new band before one of them leaves the country for a while. I don't know if this is an original, but one of the first songs I heard after I arrived was called "Lowlands."

It would have been fitting if there was a Lowland lad to try that evening, but the only Scotch there was from the Orkney Isles: Highland Park 10.

I had heard some passing remarks - he was popular, well-liked, seemed like a good guy to get to know. I had been looking forward to meeting him for a few weeks.
 
Before the water, my only impressions were that he was hot, and warm natured. His nose was a bit astringent and made me think of tobacco, and a hint of banana. Adding a bit of water didn't make too much difference. He definitely had a bite, and it wasn't until after some time passed that I started to taste any sweetness at all.

Overall, I found him hard to describe or pin down. I would go as far as to say he was exactly "nondescript" but that sounds so callous. I wanted to blame my state of mind, or perhaps the glass (it was just a standard tumbler). Maybe the glassware was wrong and I just wasn't tasting all his true flavors...

As the evening went on and I still found it hard to connect with this fellow, I thought of Glen from the week before. Nothing jumped out at me about him either, and they both seemed quite harsh. I started to wonder - could it be me? Is my busier-than-usual schedule shortening my attention span or dulling my interest in these guys?

I pondered for a while, and realized that even Talisker - who I can always turn to - seemed less captivating when I had a quick chat with him recently. Maybe it is just me...

Of course, Mercury is still in retrograde so I can always blame that. But also, it's been a while since I've tried a strong, smoky Islay, and those guys are always more my style. Still, I have definitely been feeling a disconnect.
 
I continued to sip the Highland Park, enjoying the experience, if somewhat disappointed. The music was lovely at least, so I sat back to listen to the songs and laugh with the company. Here is another taste of the talent - a bittersweet song with one line that deeply resonated with me; the recording isn't great, but it's an original by Fiona Balestrieri:

  

"I will keep a walking distance between me and my heart." 

 

Ah, don't we all know those times - when life requires that very thing from us. All too often, there are vast oceans that lie between the hopes of the past and the possibilities of the present.

A good friend of mine said these words to me tonight:

"It's nice to have someone who makes you feel like vacation."

Oh...so true. I had someone in my life like that once. I suppose I'm looking for that kind of quality in a Scotch these days. The trouble is, when you keep such a distance from your heart, it's hard to find the kind of connection that inspires such a deep relaxation. As busy as I've been this month, I could go for that feeling right about now. Maybe it's past time to slow down just a bit - after all, my perfect Scotch is waiting...

 

Glenlivet 12

Things have been really hectic in my life lately, and today I decided to take a much needed break to go hiking. There is this beautiful hike in St. Mary's Wilderness that has several gorgeous swimming holes and is perfect for hot summer days. My friend and I have been trying to find time to do this hike all summer, and today was the day. We set out for our adventure...and much confusion ensued. 

Fast forward to the evening when we stopped by Fardowners for Scotch and sustenance. Their computers were down, I was getting emails of chaos at work, and after the misdirection of our hiking adventure, my friend asked the question:  

Mercury's in retrograde, isn't it?

I hadn't planned on meeting a new Scotch this evening, but apparently it was in the cards. The only single malt at the bar was Glenlivet 12. I've seen him around; he's in a lot of the bars and restaurants, but I didn't think he was my type, so wasn't in a rush to meet him. Tonight though, it felt right. So Ben, the bartender, poured me a dram.                                                                                        
His nose wasn't the most attractive. Not too offensive, really, but sharp and pungent. The first sip was spicy, and as the evening went on, I realized that was one of Glen's most prevailing traits. There was a sweetness to him as well though - perhaps caramel.                                                                                                                  
I added a drop of water, and while it mellowed his nose into a softer scent with a touch of vanilla, it didn't change the flavor much. If anything, he became sassier and spicier. Lots of people seemed a little cranky today, it wasn't just him. We can blame Mercury. 

                         

                                                                                                                                                                                                               
If you follow astrology at all, you undoubtedly will have learned the meaning of "Mercury Retrograde." It is the time when the planet appears to move backward in the sky because of its relative to position to Earth. This is supposed to give an energetic influence to our lives that affects technology, communication, legal dealings, etc.... all in a negative way.                                                                                                                                                                                                  

Flashback to our hike: Although we followed the GPS, we arrived at the wrong entrance to the trail; Although we followed the map, the trail seemed to disappear in the direction we needed to go. So...we never did reach the refreshing swimming holes, but we had a good hike anyhow. The highlight was probably these fascinating twisted trees that we found. Here's one example, but there were several along the way. We still aren't sure exactly how this would have happened.

The conversation with Glen continued, and while I was enjoying it, I realized he was pretty sarcastic. The sips started off with a hint of sweetness, but then took a wry turn to almost caustic spice in the finish. He was fine enough, but not very deep. I also sensed a slight note at the end - ashy? bitter? The heat kept things interesting, but I doubt I'll see him again very soon. Of course, first meetings when Mercury is in retrograde...they may not count.

When we arrived at the bar, the radio was playing Bob Marley's

 

Everything's Gonna Be Alright.  

I think Bob's got it right - it's all gonna be alright. The twists and turns of life will come. Sometimes we get caught up in the chaos, sometimes things don't go the way we plan; Sometimes we blame ourselves, and sometimes - if the timing's right - we can blame Mercury.        

*For any and all technical errors in this blog for the next 6 weeks, please contact Mercury.

                                    

Wedding Cake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Scapa

I'm in my hometown for a few days, visiting family and friends in Rocky Point, NY. Never being much of a bar hopper in my time here, I am unfamiliar with the scene, and wasn't sure where to go to taste a new Scotch. After calling around, I found out that Deks on 25A had several to offer, so that's where I went. A band was playing rockabilly style, soulful songs. The singer had an amazing voice, and the music was full of life. Here's a sampling of their stuff: The Vendettas

There is something soothing in having a familiar place to return to as the years go by, even if things change as time passes. I had a group of friends in high school who all became very close in our last year together. Through college, and after, we all went our separate ways, but for many years we continued to have reunions and make time to see each other.  We would gather and reminisce over the old days, while making new memories to bolster the bonds.  


Some stayed closer than others, and our friendships individually and collectively have waxed and waned through the years. I think deep in our hearts we consider each other family. Even if many months or even years pass at times, it is always nice to reconnect. I was able to meet up with one of these old friends tonight. He's not much into the whisky, but did give a local brew a try.


The Scotch selection at Deks is impressive for a small town bar, and I'm happy to know I have a place to go on my trips back home to meet new whiskies.



For this evening, I narrowed it down to three: I was especially intrigued by the middle bottle, but decided to go with the Scapa.

His nose was sweet and straightforward, and the first sip was spicy and sharp. After adding the drop of water, Scapa mellowed a bit, and seemed to relax and open up. He was light and fruity, and the sweetness remained, tasting of vanilla or honey. 

Rory the bartender and Scapa 12

Part of the reason I chose this one for tonight was on Rory the bartender's recommendation. She admittedly, is not a huge fan of Scotch,but there are a few that she can enjoy. Scapa is one of them.

This one is 12 years old, from the Orkney Isles. He was very enjoyable, easy going, sweet, and simple. As I sipped and tasted, trying to see what other flavors or notes might be there, I realized that sometimes there are no hidden agendas or multitude of layers and nuances. Sometimes what you taste is what is you get. This is the case with Scapa. There was no complexity to him, no mystery, no subterfuge. A very honest whisky, and the type I'd want to introduce to friends who are shy around Scotches. While it may be a while before we meet again, I am content with that. Perhaps this one is like an old friend, and although much time may pass between meetings, our time together is simply enjoyable.

Oban 14

The bar I went to last night had only four single malts on their shelf, three of which I have already tried. The fourth one was Oban 14. I had heard about Oban, but hadn't yet had the pleasure of meeting him. It wasn't that crowded, and they had a good oldies playlist on, so I stayed to see what he was like. One of the songs was a classic by Otis Redding,
"Loving You Too Long."


The bartender, Cecilia, on hearing of my search for the perfect Scotch, started a conversation about dating and the difficulties that many people encounter in that realm. She told part of her story - how she had been through some hard times with romance, but was given an opportunity to take a break from things and really clear her head. This break allowed her to connect with what she wanted in a definite way. Soon after, the happy ending to her story came to be. Simple as that. I was grateful to hear this. It's nice to know that some folks can find partners they can truly love, and a love that can truly last.

I shared a bit of my story with her, and she told me not to give up - suggesting a focus on figuring out what I really want. I thanked her, knowing she was right. In life and in love knowing what you want is essential and empowering. What I want is to find the perfect Scotch...so I turned and introduced myself to the Oban 14.

He is from the West Highland region. His nose was gentle and sweet. I didn't find much difference before and after the water, but overall he was warm and light-humored. The sweetness of Oban reminded me of caramel and then later in the evening, a hint of chocolate. I still have a hard time finding much difference among the highland lads, but I think I'm starting to notice more. This one had a finish that brought to mind ash, which was a new taste to me.

The night continued, and I conversed with the bartender and my new friend in turn. The music and the mood of the bar fit well together, and I was enjoying it all - including the Oban. While there was much about him I liked, however, the ashy flavor made him seem like a smoker; that's never been the style for me. Bonfire smoke, I'll take every day, but tobacco - no thank you. I did like the light and seemingly jovial flavor to this one, but in the end I had to follow Cecilia's advice: the ash-like flavor is definitely not something that my perfect Scotch will have.

Overall it was a good night. I would spend time with Oban again, but strictly just as friends. I need to stay focused on finding the one that's right for me.