I wasn't sure what to expect out of a Scotch tasting, really. It turned out to be quite a shindig.
When we got there, the place was packed. Forget getting a table. We staked out a corner of the wine shop, made a pile of backpacks, and gave the barista (is a male barista a barrister?) $14 in exchange for a cute little whiskey glass. Then, we proceeded to the tasting table, where a knowledgeable fellow stood behind a row of 8 different single malt Scotches and got us started.
The first was, in point of fact, Irish. Bushmills 1608, to be precise. He didn't skimp on the portion size, either. It was a bit of a rough start, especially facing down a row of 7 more. We began to be concerned, but determined that we needed to stick it out for the sake of
science. I concluded that the Irish is intended as an outgroup for comparison to the Scotches to follow, and Tara told me my nerd was showing.
Number two was the Clynelish 14 year, a light, flavorful whiskey with the aftertaste of the sea. We begin to understand why Scotch is better than Irish. We're not sure how the whiskey picks up the flavor from being on the coast, but we're not complaining.
Numbers 3, 4, and 5 were progressively more expensive "sherried" Scotches (the Glenfarclas and Glenmorangie 12 years, and the Balvenie 17 year). All very nice, and you can certainly taste the sherry. Apparently, there's a booming trade in barrels headed to Scotland. A lot of Scotch is stored in used Kentucky bourbon barrels (made of French oak, of course) for the first 8 or 10 years, then moved to barrels which have been used for making sherry or madeira or port, and so on. To quote the tasting notes: "Fresh and beautifully light, sherried fruit combined with a tempting spicy sweetness and a hint of sappy oak...a hint of peat and delicious sweet sensations."
After 5 cups of whiskey, we all agree on the "delicious sweet sensations", and are now warm enough to abandon our jackets
en masse. We hope no one is interested in buying Malbec. Anita purchases a cowboy cookie, feeling somehow that that is the correct
hors d'ouevre for a Scotch tasting.
As we head back for number 6, we agree (somewhat fuzzily) that they're all beginning to blur together, and we wonder if we're in any state to appreciate Scotch any more. Did those last three really all taste kind of similar, or would we be just as happy with Thunderbird? Jeff feels it's important to let everyone know about
bumwine.com at this point, and Yann forgets the English word for some kind of seed.
Ah! Number 6. Number 6 is a revelation. Number 6 is the Talisker 18 year, a Scotch which the tasting man says he has no idea why it doesn't cost twice what it does. (He also takes this opportunity to warn us of the great Scotch crisis coming. Save your pennies...) Number 6 is smoky, peaty, like Lapsang Souchong with a kick, like liquid bacon, like a wonderful, smoldering bog on your tongue. We like Talisker. Anita hums a happy little tune. Ashley reminisces about her study lake in the north woods, and tries to explain to Yann what bog smells like. We agree that either Ashley spends too much time doing fieldwork, or we spend too little.
On the home stretch now, we sip the Bunnahabhain 18 year, which is nice, and also peaty, but not, somehow, as satisfying as the previous. It's nicely balanced, though, again with sherry. I'm curious what a Scotch aged in a different sort of barrel would taste like.
The closer was the Ardbeg 10 year, an altogether rougher sort of a beverage, touted as "the peatiest of all single malt Scotches from Islay." Well. It's a little like an IPA, if hops were peat. That analogy was much more coherent at the time, although we may not have been. Definitely a strong flavor, and a good choice for the end of the flight.
In conclusion, Scotch is very nice. Time to stock up. Anita thinks we should keep a bottle of Talisker around, and I can hardly argue. What's one more expensive hobby? One more expensive, delicious hobby? Mmmm.
