One of my guilty pleasures is single malt whisky; I’ve enjoyed the occasional dram for decades, but a little over a year ago I began to truly understand whisky’s subtleties. It has the potential to be an unhealthy obsession, but a dram now and again is a slice of heaven; indeed, the whisky lost to evaporation during the aging process is referred to as the Angel’s share.
A fine scotch should be enjoyed slowly and completely; when I’m savouring a dram of excellent single malt it can last over an hour.
My usual favourites are the peaty varieties (though it took me a while to warm to them), but there are exceptions. I had a birthday recently and was gifted some money for the express purpose of procuring a fine bottle of single malt (thanks Mom!) and I bought a bottle of Aberlour A’bunadh cask strength, which is aged in Oloroso sherry butts (A’bunadh is Gaelic for of the origin. My bottle is Lot No. 44, at 59.7% alc./vol). I sampled it on my birthday, and it was a wonderful experience: the nose, flavour, and finish are exquisite.
Cask strength, for the uninitiated, means the whisky was poured straight into bottles from the cask, with no ‘distillery water’ added (it is usual procedure to add water to bring the alc/vol closer to, but not below, 40%). While sampling a dram, a few drops of water can ‘open-up’ a whisky’s hidden flavours, but I enjoyed the dram of A’bunadh at full strength, a lovely experience. My Dad, bless his soul, would have appreciated A’bunadh: I put the bottle away and will have another wee dram on his birthday, a suitable way to remember him: perhaps he’ll be enjoying a dram of the Angel’s share at the same time.
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And, to digress, it just occurred to me that the woman’s whisky market may not have been thoroughly examined. For instance, think of the potential marketing campaign for Tomintoul. The whisky can be described as a gentle Speyside dram with a zesty kick. A commercial would hinge on the pronunciation of the product, which is, I think, something like tom-in-TOWEL. A ruggedly handsome Scotsman, a fine specimen, has just stepped out of the shower and is tucking the corner of his tartan towel in place. He walks out of the bathroom into the living room and pours two drams of Tomintoul into long-stemmed, tulip whisky glasses. He hands one to his significant other. Cut to a still of the whisky bottle with a backdrop of the Scottish countryside at sunset; the voice-over is smooth, whispered, seductive: something like… Tomintoul, a perfect start to the evening…
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db johnston
almost falling 