Whisky in the Jar
Posted by Exile on March 16, 2008
We men don’t get enough time to ourselves. In these modern times we have to consider the wishes of our equal opposites and spend a fair bit of our spare time with the ladies. Occasionally we need to break the mould and get out for a bit of fun by ourselves. Bearing this in mind and wishing to honour my promise of a whisky tasting afternoon with a few good mates, I duly invited them home last week, to a little get together. We got together yesterday.
These lads are not for beginners. Good friends, grown men in their fifties-plus, pipe smokers to a man and well versed in the bending of the elbow in the quest for the match of whisky to tobacco. We sat down to a sumptuous lunch consisting of the world famous Danish open sandwiches washed down with beer and snaps. Conversation was light, witty and good and punctuated only by short silences as we either ate or lit up a bowl. A good deal of laughter and the usual poking of fun made for a great repast.
Finally we got down to the nitty-gritty. I have 20 varieties of single malt. The idea was to try them all. Minimal amounts in small glasses, water for dilution and pens and paper for notes. As the day progressed we were getting quite well practiced at finding the various hidden qualities and hints of flavouring, peatiness, caramel, fruit, and even flowers were discussed. Inevitably, one can’t drink all that scotch and get away with it unscathed. By the time my good lady got home from work we were as much in high spirits as we were full of them.
We giggled, laughed, drank a bit more and finally reduced the judgement to either OK, not bad, bloody marvellous or let’s-have-another. Finally, after a wonderful ten hours of male bonding, wives began to turn up to claim their menfolk. Which was probably a good thing because if they hadn’t, none of us would have gotten home apart from me, as I was at least, under my own roof.
My living room has a wonderful atmosphere today. The lingering scent of latakia tobacco, a hint of whisky and beer and a good deal of comradeship seem have permeated into the woodwork.
I remember when I moved into this house with my dearly beloved, I said, “Let’s only do good things here. Let’s make some good memories of this place and do nothing we will regret.”
This was definitely one of those good things.