Kitty Hoyne's

There is an Irish pub in downtown Syracuse, on the edge of Armory Square, that has the best selection of whiskies, especially malt whiskies, I’ve ever seen in upstate NY. It’s called Kitty Hoyne’s Irish Pub. Scotch whisky, Irish whisky, American ryes and bourbons, the works. The selection is so extensive, they have a whisky menu that runs about twelve pages, much longer than the menu for dining.

A couple weeks ago, Matt and I stopped in for a quick lunch before a trip to the dome, where we watched the Cuse get their butts whipped. Now it’s a good idea to have a drink or two to prepare you for watching an event like that. I recalled reading in Jackson’s guide about a peated Irish malt, but could not remember the name. So I asked the server if she knew which one of the Irish whiskies was peated. She came back with the bottle of Connemara, which I then recognized, after which she returned with a glass and a little flask of water on the side. Not bad, considering that Connemara doesn’t even appear in Kitty Hoyne’s twelve page menu. Another great thing about the bar is that they serve flights, not only flights of beers, which we’ve seen at other bars and brew-pubs, but flights of whiskies. How much fun is that?

Last weekend we had a family wedding in Syracuse, and rather than stay out by the thruway, we stayed at the Hawthorne in Armory Square, definitely a fun place to spend the weekend. Friday night we went to Kitty Hoyne’s and after trying several beers with dinner, and a malt or two, we stumbled across a wonderful pot-still Irish malt – Red Breast. Twelve years old, and finished in sherry casks, it was a touch sweeter than Scotch whisky finished in sherry – think of Macallan 12, or Aberlour 15. But its most distinctive characteristic was a fragrant fruity nose, an aroma that really enhanced the entire drink. After dinner, we ended up at the bar, listening to Irish music, watching game seven of the World Series, and continuing to enjoy Irish malts.

The next day, in the down time between the wedding and the reception, we found ourselves back at Kitty Hoyne’s, mainly because Tiffany’s new boyfriend likes scotch whisky and was expressing enthusiasm about a visit to this bar. Before long we were joined by Tiffany, Delilah, Marsha and their grandmom, all of us tasting a variety of malts, including Macallan, and Lagavulin, and our new best friend, Red Breast. In no time, we were in the perfect mood for celebrating cousin Amy’s wedding.

So G, when you come upstate, we’ll meet you in the Cuse, where you and I can sample the great selection of Scotch and Irish whisky, and then back in Rochester, we’ll pay a visit to my man Ben at Whitehouse, where you can leave a dollar or two in exchange for a few bottles to bring back to New Jersey. Now I know this isn’t as good as a visit to the Bronx or Kenmore square, to watch a baseball game, but it’s not a bad way to spend a weekend.

Message to G

G-man,

The spousal unit has her laptop in Florida, and I have no access to e-mail. So instead, I'll try to communicate through the blogosphere. Got a couple more bottles of Longmorn, one for you and one for John, and just to be sure it was the right call, I tasted again last night. It was a good call. Earlier I had stopped by the Chophouse and had a Macallan 15 with my steak. I think the 15 is underappreciated, and also the best buy of all the Macallans. Jackson has interesting things to say about Macallan, including the fact that they are very particular about the barley they use.

I'm on my way into the Cuse, to watch the Orange play Louisville. This has all the makings of a blowout, but perhaps they'll step up today. For me, it's a barren fall. I'm just marking time until the hoops season.

Peace

Longmorn

Whitehouse acquired a selection of private bottlings – like the whiskies we found at Maltings, with the “Rare Malts” labels. Apparently, bottlers purchase small quantities – a couple casks, perhaps even a single cask – from a distiller, and then bottle and sell the whisky under their own trade name, giving credit to the distillery. I picked up a couple bottles of Longmorn, 16 years old, 1987 vintage, packaged by Whisky Galore (an admittedly cheesy trade name). It’s 92 proof, non-chill filtered.

Longmorn was previously unknown to me. It’s a Speyside malt. Michael Jackson (more on Michael in a few moments) says that Longmorn is admired, but not well known. The distillery recently sold to new owners, and there’s hope that the malt will become more available.

The first noticeable trait of this whisky is its light gold color. It hardly looks like something that’s been aged for 16 years. And it has a light fresh taste, comparable to the color. But the taste seems to grow and improve, not only as you hold the whisky on the tongue, but as you work your way down the glass. I’ve always thought it’s a sign of a good malt when, every time you finish a glass, you feel like pouring another, right then. Longmorn has that appeal. And the taste seems to get bigger as the glass goes down. At $35, I’m beginning to think that this whisky was a steal, and that I’ll need to pick up another couple bottles, since Whitehouse has only a couple cases, if that.

In an effort to read up on these private bottlings, I bought G-man’s single malt reference book – the Complete Guide to Single Malt Scotch, by Michael Jackson. He didn’t have this particular Longmorn rated, but made reference to over a half-dozen other bottlings, enough to get a sense for what this whisky would taste like. It’s a blast to read, not just to look through all the many malts (over 1000 different bottlings are identified), but also to learn about the history and production of scotch whisky. And because Jackson rates all the whisky, it’s also fun to see how your tastes stack up to his. For example, he shares our high opinion of Lagavullin, Talisker and Highland Park, but not Bruichladdich. Why not, I can’t really say. In any event, an important addition to the library.

Wait until 2086

The Yankees are out of the post-season. Gone. Gone with a whimper and not a bang. Who said that? TS Eliot? George Eliot? George Steinbrenner? Elliot Spitzer? ET? I think it was ET. Anyway, John got his wish. A-Rod sucked. With one hit for the four-game ALDS; a microscopic batting average of .071; no RBIs; and an error in Game 4 which led to the Tigers’ fourth run, the eventual winning run.

Forget about all that talk of murderers’ row, and comparisons to the ’27 Yankees. As I recall, those Yankees won the series. Or how about the ’61 Yankees, with Maris and Mantle and Berra? Those guys dispatched the Reds in 5. So this year’s bunch looked great for September, especially after the addition of Bobby Abreu. And I’ll give Derek Jeter his due; he’s perhaps the most complete player in baseball. But in the end, these guys will be remembered as the most overpaid losers in history.

Friday’s New York Post carried A-Rod’s photo on the front page – not the back front page, usually devoted to sports news, but the front front page, reserved for the biggest story of the day. And the headline: “K-Rod”. Now that’s sort of a copyright violation, or maybe a trademark violation, because there already is a K-Rod, who is supposed to generate strike-outs, and he's not a Yankee, and his name is not a sign of disrespect either. Earlier in the year, the Post called A-Rod “E-Rod”, when he was committing all those throwing errors. But my preference is A-Fraud. Sox fans have known him as that for years -- a fraud. Sure he’s talented, and yes he typically puts up big numbers. But last year, he stole the MVP from Papi, and everyone outside New York knew it. I mean, if you needed one guy for a late inning at-bat, or for a game seven, or for a post-season series for that matter, would you ever think about taking A-Rod over Papi? Ever? Now, finally, the Yankee fans have recognized the truth, and have turned on him. Late innings, big games, he comes up empty; and the fans aren't bashful about sharing their feelings. And has A-Rod ever played for a championship team? Send him back to Miami, where he can hang out on South Beach, and no one will really care if there’s a post-season or not. Sorry Mike.

Now I’ve got to get reconciled about my friend Jon. What did this really mean? How can I make sense of the Yankees folding, with all the times I’ve said Kaddish for Jon. Maybe it means that Jon and I have to wait 86 years for the Yankees to win again. 2086. I think I like that theory. I’m doing the right thing for Jon, and eventually there will be a reward. . But not for a long time. A very long time. In the meantime, everyone will just need to have faith.

A post-script: If anyone wants to know why things went south for this year’s Yankees, I mean really wants to know the story behind the headlines, check out the internet documentary: Chokeback Yankees. That will explain everything. And because it’s on the internet, it has to be true.

Kaddish + Baseball = A-Rod sucks.

I’m so conflicted by this post-season. I’m torn between my hatred of the Yankees, a deep and abiding antipathy, and my love for Jon Seigle, who left us last spring. But to explain this conflict fully, I have to back up to the spring of 2003.

That was the year that Carmelo Anthony was bringing the spotlight to SU hoops. That was also the year that my dad had passed away, and I was saying Kaddish for him every day. In case you’re unfamiliar with the tradition, the Kaddish is the Jewish memorial prayer, recited every day (three times a day according to tradition), by the sons of the departed. My dad having passed away late in 2002, that meant that I was given the responsibility of saying Kaddish for him throughout the following year. Most of 2003, to be exact. And the teaching is that the Kaddish secures for the departed admission into the world to come, known more commonly as heaven. In other words, I said Kaddish for my dad, so he could have a place in heaven.

While I was doing that, the Orange were slowly and gradually working their way toward the NCAA tournament. A season that had its early ups and downs took shape in January, especially once Cuse beat Pitt, who was then ranked number two in the polls. In fact, had Cuse not beat them, the Panthers would have been ranked number one. And as the season progressed, the Orange had one miracle come-from-behind victory after another. There were more than a dozen games in which Cuse trailed in the second half, but finished with a win. The final regular season game, against Rutgers, they trailed by more than a dozen in the second half. But finished with a win. In the second round of the tournament, they trailed Oklahoma State by 18, and still managed to win. Everyone recalls Gerry McNamara’s six threes in the first half against Kansas, but how about the nineteen foul shots that the Jayhawks somehow missed?

Here’s what happened. It’s not that anyone in heaven really cared who won the NCAA tournament. If there really is a heaven, the folks who reside there, and look after things, have weightier issues to worry about. But my Dad, not just a lifelong Orange fan, but a guy who lived and died for the Orange, made such a fuss of himself that someone finally said: “Enough already. Let this guy’s team win the tournament so we can get something done around here.” Or at least, that’s what might have happened.

So now we move to the spring of 2006 when Jon died in a skiing accident. My son Michael, who knew how much I loved Jon, told me that, if I wanted, I could say the Kaddish for Jon. There’s another tradition that, whenever someone passes away without a child who can say the Kaddish, then a friend, or even a stranger, someone other than a male child (that was the tradition), could say Kaddish. Mike asked me if I wanted to do that for Jon, and I thought, why not? But at the same time, recalling 2003, I realized what I was about to do, knowing full well that Jon was as much a Yankees fan as my dad had been a Syracuse fan. So I told my friend Danny, another diehard Yankees fan, that I was going to help his team this year. He didn’t believe me, but as the season wore on, and despite a rocky start, didn’t the Yankees seem to come together? Weren’t they actually the post-season favorites as we found ourselves in October?

Two nights ago, I sat down to watch some of the Yankees-Tigers game. Now deep down, I know what’s happening. I know that Jon, as much a Yankees fan as my dad was a Cuse fan, is bugging the hell out of someone to let his team regain the world championship. And I also know, deep down, that if the Yankees win the world series this year, it proves conclusively, without any shadow of a doubt, that there really is a heaven somewhere, and that Jon has been reserved a place in that heaven. I mean, how else can you explain the Phillies, who themselves were locked in a race for a post-season berth, letting Bobby Abreu go? And to the Yankees of all places? This is the same Abreu who knocked in four runs in the opening game of the ALDS series against the Tigers.Same for the resurgence of Johnny Damon, so banged up in his last year in Boston, but so healthy, and so productive all year for the Yankees.

So I should find some satisfaction in seeing the Yankees win this year, right? But still, as I sat in front of the TV watching Game one of the ALDS, after the Tigers had scored three runs to make it a game, trailing at that point by 5-3, I found myself rooting instinctively against the Yankees. I loved watching A-Rod strike out. (Sorry, but I can’t count myself among the fans who feel sorry for A-Rod, who feel that it’s wrong to boo a guy who hits 35 home runs and knocks in over 100. The best part of last year’s dismal post-season was when A-Rod ended the Yankees series with the Angels.) When the Yankees scored two more runs, and put the game out of reach, I turned the TV off and went to bed.

And so I’m stuck with this conflict. If the Yankees win, I’ll know that Jon is safe; that he’s found a place in the world to come. And I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that my having said Kaddish was more than just a way to make peace with myself for having lost a friend. But at the same time, I’ll have to live with the knowledge that I played a role in allowing the hated Yankees to win yet another world series. What RedSox fan wants to know that he contributed, even in the slightest degree, to a Yankees championship? After all, we’ve had the satisfaction of knowing these past two years that, regardless of how long the Sox went without that championship, for the time-being, it’s been a longer dry spell for the Yankees.

We’ll have to see how this plays out over the next few weeks. But here’s where we are, at least for the time being. I want to know that Jon is OK, and I want to think that saying Kaddish for him was a good thing. At the same time, I really can’t help but root for the Tigers. And if the Yankees never win another series, it will be too soon for me. Maybe my son John has the right solution: the Yankees win; Jon Seigle goes to heaven; but A-rod sucks and doesn’t drive in a single run. So far so good.