Feb
17
Written by:
Robin
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Uisge Beatha, lads.
The evening was foggy, with just a hint of cold snap in it to aggrevate your sinusitus and fill you with the desire for for a drink with a long finish and an aromatic nose. The host greeted us wearing a tam o’shanter and a kilt as his wife warmly greeted us over the lilt of a Celtic melody in the background. The aroma of newly arrived Scotch Eggs filled the air. Were we in the Highlands? In Islay? Hell no, dude, we're in Ridgewood... and ok, the host is Italian/Irish...and the kilt’s really his wife’s skirt…but, those legs…well, never mind, the impact was evident. The Pascack Valley Single Malt Tasting and Jet Fuel Afterburn Festival descended like a pack of nose-hounds on a smoky peat trail and invaded Matthew’s once quiet domain with the impact of an old whisky bottle upside the head. The usual Knuckleheads of Scotch were present: Scott, Glenn, Mike, Tony, Robin, Bo… Uhhh, what about Bob? Well, we knew Bob was scrounging around Florida for his company, adjusting his magnification on some microbes, and we’re still holding him accountable for the long awaited “Ax Throw and Scotch Tasting” circus. 
We can only hope he was belly up to a bar with a good single-malt selection. However, this time, we topped out the tasting at…11! George S. and Steve B. joined us again, after a long lapse; our host Matt made his 2nd (and raised the technology bar by providing a laptop, projector and wi-fi access), Joe, John C. and Zac all for their first time to the table. Outstanding!
The evening’s theme was “Da’ Nose Knows” and we brought out the Tasting Wheel of Death and the Glencairn nosing glasses to 
concentrate on the hundreds of aromas available to our olfactory nerves. Repeat after me: bung cloth! Robin had a surprise treat for all the participants as he led the nosing overview: Whisky Splashing! Palming the open top of the glass, quick turn over to splash the palm, rub the hands together to open up the aroma and dissipate the alcohol: thank god Zac caught this all on camera, because we’re never going to explain this to our loved ones after we’re gone. John C., first time here and a newbie to single-malts, was non-plussed, and wondered if he perhaps mis-read Mapquest and ended up at the wrong house. Mike didn’t bite at first and suggested that perhaps only a dip of the fingertip would suffice. Scott decided immediately that if stopped by the police afterwards, he would try to explain that only his hands were over the limit. Robin could smell nothing but plums and that worried most others. But for the most part, we got into rubbing whisky on ourselves and fortunately we did not descend into throwing it on each other. Not a wee dram was wasted.
Our presentations reflected the evening’s line up:
Aberfeldy, 12 year from the House of Dewars. Scott found some guy on a video that actually says, “Uisge Beatha” and introduced the Aberfeldys , a folk-rock band from Edinburgh.
Longmorn, 15yr, and as we learned from Glenn, the least photogenic of all the distilleries. Luckily Polaroid went out of business just in time.
Talisker 18 yr, and Tony brought his usual insight and knowledge to the big boy from Skye, and leaned on all the heavy weights (Jackson, Murray, etc) to weigh in.
Strathisla 12 yr, and Matt settled all bets on pronunciation by introducing the voice of Darth Vader.
Scapa, 14yr, where Mike and Joe double-teamed their knowledge for the "2nd most northern distillery" in Scotland.
There were a couple of firsts for the evening:
- Zac videotaped the entire event for OneMalt.com, and goodness knows he’s got a job on his hands editing out the long silences as we pondered the whisky noses and writing our notes: now that’s entertainment! Zac is a star on both sides of the camera, and also wins the "What the Hell was I Thinking?" Award for his impersonation of the ubiquitous "don't tase me, bro" video.
- There was considerable debate about the lineup of the evening: the Talisker should have been last, perhaps the Aberfeldy got shorted because it was first, maybe Longmorn needed some time, “contemplative” vs “pensive”, etc. This was proof that the sophistication level was moving up a notch; no longer content with whichever way Robin put together the evening, there was now considerable opinions on every side of the table on placement, position, nose, etc. Outstanding! Now shut up and drink yer whisky.
- Mike liked an island Scotch! We got it on tape, but we all about farted in our seats when Mike declared, “hey I like this one” after ranking the Talisker, 18yr a 4+. Ahh, it brought a tear to all of our eyes to see this broadening of the palate of the Man Who Would Not Be Peated.
- John C. is where Mike was. John loves his JWB, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but coming over to the single malt side isn’t always a smooth jump. The Talisker 18, as smooth, floral and delicious as it was, was not anywhere near his taste, but we all fondly remembered Mike tasting that Bunnahabhain and well, let’s say, they weren’t kindred spirits. So we’re anxious to see if John finds his way to Islay as well in subsequent tastings.
- Joe’s a tough cookie. Un-intimidated by his first seating, he was the toughest on all the entries, tying Scott for the most esoteric scores: 3.1, 3.995, 2.4 and pi. Thanks, Joe for throwing off the Bell Curve, but we like the discriminating palate.
- The Scotch Eggs were back.
Knowing the Festival was just a bunch of losers sitting around a liquor bottle without them, Scott came up with another fine batch of Scotch Eggs on a Stick, or as we refer to them, “Things You Don’t Tell Your Insurance Company About”. These marvelous examples of deep-fried coronary thrombosis are just what the cardiologist ordered after you’ve rubbed Scotch deep into your dermis.
- We got stats. At the end, as we ranked them all on a 1-5 scale, Matt consolidated on Excel. Next up: Fantasy Scotch Tasting, where we’ll match stats from ideal lineups and compete for prizes. For more info, click the image below and mouse over the brands.
As usual, we ended the night with cigars in the backyard, waking the neighbors and scaring Matt’s children (“Daddy, why are those men on fire?”). No shit, I’m shocked our wives would allow us to behave like this…but then again, that’s why we don’t invite them. Uisge Beatha!
Tags: