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!

Black Water

I heard an interview with Paul Auster on the radio the other day discussing his newest book. He related a story from when he was 14 years old - where another boy was struck and killed by lightning, just inches away from him. Understandably, this has affected him his entire life. An event like this - where chance cherry picks one person over another for some extreme event - inevitably causes a person to question: what if?, why them?, why not me?, and ultimately, what now? For the human mind, which seems wired for finding patterns and creating order, the constant chaos of our experiences certainly give us a lot to work with. Life has a steadfast commitment to unpredictability.

On my tasting outing this week, I discovered Red & The Romantics playing at The Whisky Jar. It's a regular Monday night gig for them, apparently, although it was my first time. This song of theirs is the most fitting to share, about the river of time - Black Water:

Before the whisky tasting, I met a friend for dinner at Revolutionary Soup on the downtown mall. We had a lovely meal of soup, salad, and a wrap. Always delicious, with often local and organic ingredients, this is one of my favorite dining spots in Cville.

I discovered a fun thing there that I hadn't noticed before: one of the tables is an old chess board with a small drawer built in. There is a little note inviting patrons to write a few words to leave in the drawer for future folks to discover. I've seen this sort of thing in coffee shops before, and I love the idea, in theory.

I shuffled through the pile of napkins, bottlecaps, and scraps of paper, reading snippets of strangers' days. Some were silly, some were sad, some poetic, hopeful, and/or mysterious. While I was mildly interested or intrigued by a few, for the most part they seemed wholly inconsequential. And of course, why wouldn't they be? Such an open invitation for connection between total strangers seems a bit like a shot in the dark. But there is something in such contrived randomness, isn't there? It leaves us hoping...even expecting, to discover something profound.

After our meal, my friend and I wandered over to the Whisky Jar to see what we could find. The band was jamming, and a beautiful sound of lively music and Red's deep, soulful voice filled the room. We sat down at the bar and were greeted by the super chill bartenders.

Romaine and Matt, my kind and friendly bartenders. 

I scanned the long menu of Scotches and was intending to try a new Islay, when I saw the listing of another variety that I had heard of: from the Orkney Isles - Highland Park Dark Origins. The mysterious name hooked me, so I ordered a dram.

I had tried the HP before, but wasn't impressed. This one was much nicer than I remembered the 10 year being. Reading a bit up on his background, I learned the name Dark Origins is a tribute to the distillery's early years, being somewhat of a black market operation when it first began. Dark Origins is aged completely in Sherry casks, most of them first-fill. This lends much to his character.


The nose was sweet, and the first taste deliciously creamy. Adding water didn't change much, however. If anything his nose became softer and lighter. Dark Origins, although technically not from the Highland region, reminded me of my favorite Highland lads, perhaps with a richer and slighlty more vanilla flavor.


The founding of HP's distillery is credited to Magnus Eunson, who apparently had the respectable positions of butcher and church official during the day, but who would smuggle whisky in the darker hours. Of course, there are questions around the facts of it all, and much must be left to the imagination.

As the night continued, I got to know the Orkney lad a little more. He was quite enjoyable overall. At times I tasted a hint of banana, and at others a bit of lemon or citrus, or a hint of smoke or ash. There was a salty, briney aspect that I've come to associate with the Island Scotches, and through it all a buttery caramel taste that was delightful. I wondered what the original Highland Park whisky would have tasted like, and if Magnus Eunson ever considered what his illicit actions might lead to hundreds of years in the future.

Much like the influence of the unpredictable and chaotic aspects of life, there is a romanticizing of history that comes with the passage of time. Whatever begins simply as missing facts or holes in a story soon blooms into a a shroud of mystery, and that is very satisfying. For truly, we are all romantic creatures at heart - searching for meaning and inspiration in our daily lives, so that we, in turn, may provide that for others.

I'll leave you with the words of Red & The Romantics: "The black water flows where nobody knows, and disappears into the night, so take down the bottle and let's have toast - to love, to death, and to life!"

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.

Happy New Year!

Last night was New Year's Eve. I started the evening by playing Irish music as part of the town's "first night" celebrations. I don't understand why they call it that. It's really the last night before the new year, but I suppose people prefer the sound of a "first" something to a "last" something...

The festivities spread across the downtown area, and included access to many shows by performers of all types. Lots of different local musicians created an artistic smorsgasbord of music to ring in the new year. The first show my friend and I visited after I was done playing was Erin and the Wildfire. Its was both of our first times seeing them play, and they were amazing. Erin's voice was stunningly impressive to say the least, and the talent of the others in the band had folks grooving and dancing and feeling good on this last day of the year. One of my favorites from the evening was named Got Dem. Take a listen, pour yourself a dram of your choice, and toast to a 2017 full of whatever it is that you want most.

This show was in the Omni hotel, and when they were done, we visited the hotel bar to see if they had any interesting Scotches. Indeed, they did.

The middle shelf seemed highlighted by the uniquely curved design and the intriguing abstract art behind it. It held four gentlemen: Macallan 15, Talisker 10, Macallan 12, and Talisker 18. It was really the only shelf I could see. 

I knew which one I wanted, but I was concerned about the price. When I inquired, it was a little outside of my budget, but I was able to order a half shot so I could meet the most enticing lad of the group - Talisker 18.

The glass was a beautiful snifter, and although I couldn't get a full shot, I was sure to make the most of what I had. From the familiar smoky sweet nose to the spicy flavor, I savored every moment with this Talisker.

So much like his cousin, he still had his own personality. His nose had a hint of pine which seemed different, and tasting the peat and sweetness, there was a more refined quality that was new. He's the most mature Scotch I've tasted so far, and I was thrilled to be ending the year in his company.

Meeting Bunnahabhain recently, after so long away from the Islays, confirmed for me that my true perfect Scotch must have that smoky peat component. I can enjoy the others just fine, their presence being part of many of a lovely evening...but if we're talking about love, my Scotch has to have a bit of fire and smoke. I have been missing that lately. Stumbling upon this opportunity, amidst of sea of random possibilities of the evening, it sort of seemed like fate.

This is a concept I've been grappling with. I used to have a strong belief in fate, destiny, and what was meant to be. I've lived moments at both extremes - from absolute faith, to utter disbelief bordering on disdain. But I am someone who believes in magic, and for that you need to make space for fate, particularly in the form of serendipity.

Making the most of this serendipitous meeting, I sipped this Talisker slowly, knowing our time was short. After adding the water, he seemed even more sophisticated than before. Breathing in at the top of the glass I sensed a bonfire breeze, somewhere in the distance, and the sea salt in the air besides. The flavor had all the qualities of Storm, but milder overall, with the many characteristics blended together in a smoother presentation - smoke, spice, salt, and sweet.

Something about serendipity that I've learned is that you have to create space in your life to allow it to happen. Years ago I heard the expression: "If the devil can't make you bad, he'll make you busy." I don't actually believe in "the devil" per se, but I found the meaning behind the statement powerfully enlightening. Through making observations in my own life, and those of others, I saw proof of this magic in action. When a person packs their days so full that they never have time to be spontaneous, or do something on a whim, they close the door to fate. In order to be open to the little signs and nudges from the universe, you have to create space in your schedule for happy accidents and unexpected coincidences to occur.


This New Year's Eve was an exercise in just that. I had no plan for the evening, and just went with the events as they unfolded. This method led me to meeting an exquisite Scotch, hearing some fantastic music, and closing out the year laughing and celebrating with a great friend.

At the stroke of midnight we found ourselves at Fellini's, listening to Robert Jospe Express, and hopeful for the new year ahead.

May this last night, at first night, bode well for the coming year. And may the treasured secrets of serendipity find space in your days to be seen.

Bunnahabhain 12

I went to see the new Star Wars movie the other night with a few friends. Rogue One - it's the first of the Star Wars Anthology that stands alone from the trilogies, and while it is part of the story, there are only very few character cross overs. It's the type of movie that may well be enjoyable on its own to someone completely unfamiliar with Star Wars (who are those people anyway though?!) but is rich with gems of delight only recognized by those who have seen the others, and are familiar with the greater saga. Like a well-crafted single malt, there are layers that build upon each other in these kinds of stories. Their beauty and potential for enjoyment blooms exponentially with each new element.

The Star Wars soundtracks have never disappointed. Pour yourself a dram of a most complex favorite, and take a listen. Be sure to pay attention to all the layers - from the quiet and the subtle, to the glaring and potent, and remember that a symphony's magic arises from the synergy of all the pieces working together...

Before the movie, we visited Miller's downtown where I tried a lovely new Islay Scotch - Bunnahabhain 12. It was wonderful after so long, to meet a new fellow from that region again - the region so known for bestowing unto the spirits born there, the smoky flavor I love so much.  At the tail end of a cold, my tasting was impaired so I knew there was more to this one than I was able to experience at the time. Even so, I found him deliciously enticing and completely satisfying.


He was warm and inviting, with a deep flavor that kept drawing me back in for another sip. I tasted cinnamon and spice, but couldn't discern any other specific flavors due to my cold. Bunnahabhain was strong, but softened slightly by a creamy texture. After spending so much time with the Highland lads, or those from Speyside or other regions, it was such a pleasure, and almost a relief to be with one of this kind again. Even in the fun, lively conversation with my friends, I found myself entranced by this Islay each time my lips touched the glass.

I couldn't even actually taste the characteristic peatiness, but somehow the effects of its flavor still pervaded my senses, and I found myself ordering another glass...

It was a varied group of folks I had with me: one of my closest friends who knows me very well; her boyfriend, whom I've only started know; another friend, much younger than me, whom I only know a little; and one friend I've known and worked with for years, but haven't seen in a quite a while. Despite the difference in age or familiarity, we all seemed comfortable and relaxed in each other's presence, perhaps aided by our shared anticipation of seeing the movie.

I've been thinking a lot about friends and friendship, and how they may hold the key to a powerful opportunity. We each have a story which weaves in and out of connection with the stories of others.


Some threads stay obviously joined and some drift apart. There are others too, that may seem disconnected, but if you follow back far enough, may be found to have strong ties with, at times, the most unexpected of others.  

We begin our journeys with an almost infinite number of possibilities ahead of us. But for each choice made, countless others are turned away from. The choices we make carve our paths, and inevitably involve sacrifice. We may find ourselves one day asking all the "what ifs," knowing we will never have an answer. And yet, we have friends...

Sometimes as the seasons of our lives shift, certain friendships will wax or wane, but true friends seem to have a bond that outlasts these changes. Even when life takes two people on such different paths that their known worlds and existences vary so vastly from one another, a true friendship will overcome these circumstances.

It has occurred to me, that there is a beauty to be found in the parting destinies of such friends - for therein may like the key to "having it all."  The way to live many lives, and satisfy all the "what ifs." is to have a diverse group of true friends. I am not a mother, but I have a deep friendship with a few mothers, and I can share in their joys and woes to taste what motherhood might be like. I am not married, but I have good friends that are married, and some that have been divorced, and some even that have married again. I did not live these things, but I have experienced vicariously through my friends, just as they have shared in my experiences of things they have never known.

Our time in this world is finite, and no matter how much we may want to try new things and live new experiences, there is a limit to what is possible. There are only a certain amount of hours in the day, and a certain amount of days in our lives.

In the greater picture, as our stories are written by the fates, or god, or chance - to welcome the importance of each character's individual tale is to discover a wealth of meaning that may be missed otherwise. Knowing my friends' stories enriches mine, and this continues, layer upon layer, enriching and intensifying, and deepening as it goes.  Just like a perfectly aged Scotch, or the epic stories of the ages - distilled through years of tradition into a perfect experience incapable of being put into words, but undeniably rich with wonder. I'll drink to that.