I remember the night clearly when after taking a swig from a large, warm can of Tennent's I thought: "You know what would go well with this alcohol? More alcohol!" Specifically whisky. And since you are never more than six feet away from a bottle of cheap blended whisky when studying art in Scotland, my desire was quickly fulfilled. It's not that I had never wanted to drink different kinds of alcohol together in one evening before, but it was the first time I really wanted two different alcoholic drinks on the go at once. From that point forward, I became a devotee of whisky and a half pint.
In my previous life I drank cocktails like vodka and soda with a splash of cranberry, or dirty martinis, or kir, but none of these work in Scotland. They might pop up at the occasional party or a late afternoon picnic, but if you want them to be your staple, you'll be weeping in your oatmeal. On the whole, Scotland doesn't do cocktails, and on the whole it's because the climate is not condusive to them. The Scottish aren't stupid. They have developed a few food products that make the weather not bearable, but somehow just manageable enough allow everyone to keep going. Whisky & beer, oatmeal (in cake or porridge form) and delicious pig products create a holy trinity of food stuffs that enable us to make it through the dark and wet winters.
While single malt whiskies are the reserve of middle-aged business men outside of Scotland, within this fair country the pubs do something to make it accessible to even the poorest art student (the poorest one who prioritizes alcohol, anyway): they have a malt of the month. Every month a different (and usually single malt) whisky is selected and then offered at a very reasonable price (between $1.40 and £2). This means that with a little bit of dedication, even novices can quickly get an idea of the kinds of whiskies they like and the kinds that just leave a burning feeling in their mouth. And you can order the whisky with a nice Scottish beer and together they will make you forget about the rain and the wind that almost knocks you down and that comment that that person made during your group crit and you wanted to punch them.
On Saturday we arrived at the pub almost three hours before the Scotland match and were facing spending the next five hours shifting about uncomfortably on one chair between the two of us, trying to watch the screen and avoid having too much beer spilled down the backs of our shirts. Apart from our friends also huddled around the only tiny available table (nicely saved, B&A), drinking was to be our only solace. After an initial pint, J asked if I wanted a whisky to accompany my next beer.
Clearly.
He brought back two messy pints and two demure glasses of amber-coloured Dalmore and we sipped them carefully.
"It tastes like caramel!" I exclaimed. One of the first things you learn about whisky is that it tastes different based on the region where it comes from. Dalmore is a Highland whisky and those are characterized by being "smooth". Normally I like smooth whisky about as much as I like smooth men. I prefer some dirt and smoke in there somewhere and that's why I tend to pick Island malts. But this sweet malt was quite pleasant. J thought brandy, and we decided it had probably spent some time in sherry casks. Later internet research told us we were right. So clever.
Dalmore seemed to have two distinct phases; the first sweet and fruity one (they say chocolate, but I wouldn't agree) and a second wave that tasted, well, like whisky. Warming and strong and alcoholic. It's not one I would want to have in summer, but seems like a perfect drink for the Christmas season. And not a good mate for the IPA we were drinking, it could use a darker ale. It would go well with dessert, though, and I think if one were prone to decadence, could be a lovely single malt to bake with.
I can't tell you what it looked like because I forget and the pub was dark. You'll have to imagine the smell, too, because I was mostly smelling spilled beer and the already-drunk Scotland supporters. It was a pungent micro-climate. Therefore these notes won't be that extensive. But in short, I liked it. If you were ever trying to get your mom to cozy up to a whisky, this would be where I would start.
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