Connemara

When reading through Jackson’s guide to single malt scotch, in a general description of malt whiskies from around the world, I found a reference to a peated Irish whisky, whose name I promptly forgot. (Who can remember all these names, when Jackson reviews over 1000 malts?) Not long thereafter, we were having dinner at Kitty Hoyne’s, and I asked our server for a glass of the peated Irish whisky, without recalling its name. She checked with the bar, and returned to our table with the bottle of Connemara, whose name I then remembered, a glass of which I then ordered. And ever since then, I have not visited this most enjoyable establishment without ordering at least one glass of this exceptional whisky.

This past week Danny found that his distributor carried Connemara, so over the weekend, I became a proud owner of a bottle of Ireland’s only peated malt. This is really a very fine whisky, with a taste reminiscent of Caol Ila, distinctly peated, but not overpowering, and not briny (I’m not fond of the briny character of, for instance, Bowmore.), smooth and flavorful, a great malt to end the evening with. As I mentioned in an earlier posting, my friend Ted, of Irish descent, was knocked out by it, as was Danny, who’s not of Irish descent, but who hasn’t let that fact interfere in the least with his enjoyment of whisky.

I have learned from their website that Connemara now has three different bottlings – the one we’ve been drinking, both at Kitty’s and at home, carries no age statement – a twelve year old, which unfortunately looks like it will be unreasonably expensive – and a cask strength version which has received the highest rating of all on tastings.com. Cask strength costs about 25% more than the regular, but when you consider how it gets stretched by the addition of water, probably ends up costing the same or even less.

And just for the record, the other Irish whisky currently residing in my cabinet is Black Bush. (As Dave Barry would say, I’m not making that up.) It’s a wonderfully smooth and tasty malt, aged in sherry casks, so it has just a hint of sweetness, perfect for everyday drinking. But really, who came up with that name?

Highland Park - One More Time

I’ve just seen the new Highland Park bottle for the first time. When I read about the new packaging, the new label, even a new bottle, and saw all about the big marketing push on the HP website, I feared that this whisky, perhaps my all-around favorite, was either going to lose its distinctive qualities by seeking to appeal to a broader market, or else become inordinately expensive. (Somw whisky critic has recently proclaimed HP as the wrold's best spirit.) John, on the other hand, felt that the HP packaging was so bad, with that cheesy label, that the brand could easily benefit from an upgrade in its presentation. In other words, the look of the product could be upgraded to the level of the whisky. Anyway, because I didn’t buy the new bottle, as it was the 12 year old, and I’m already well stocked with both 15 and 18 (not to mention a bit of the 25 still in that distinctive wide-mouth bottle), I can’t vouch for the whisky. I can report, however, that the new package is just fine.

The bottle is no longer round; it’s now an oblong shape with flat sides. There’s undoubtedly a name for this shape, but it's unknown to me. It reminds me of the shape of the Bulleit bourbon bottle, but with flat sides, and perhaps a longer neck. And the label is a big improvement as well, old fashioned, and more appropriate for this classic malt whisky. So it looks as though John was right on the money.

Unfortunately, it also looks like it will be a while before the new packaging is on the shelf around here. I’m guessing that Whitehouse, as well as our other local purveyors, have a decent inventory of the old stuff, because everyone seems to have one of the ages on sale at all times these days. So that’s the good news – we can stock up on the 15 and 18, at remarkably good prices, but we’ll just have to drink it out of the old and now unfashionable bottles.

Not much of anything to say about the Cuse. After that collapse against Cincinnati, where they salvaged a one-point win, we’ve had disappointing road losses to St. Johns (!) and Louisville. Both games were characterized by second half collapses, and in neither game did PH get much playing time. What’s up with that, coach? Two next games are home games, so let’s hope we can turn things back around.

And lastly, with the signing of JD Drew, Sox line-up seems to have taken shape. Big question of course, is whether any of the new relievers can fill the closer role, allowing Papelbon to start. The rotation would then be Shilling, D-Mat, Papelbon, Beckett, and either Wake or Lester. Possibly a formidable rotation. Imagine that. But if Pap returns to the closer role, that might not be such a bad development either. It won’t be long now.

Goodbye Jon

People assume that the ritual of saying Kaddish imposes some great burden or obligation on the survivor – that the person reciting the Kaddish, typically the child of the departed, has undertaken some enormous task, has assumed some extraordinary commitment. In fact, just the opposite is true. The practice of saying Kaddish is actually comforting, because it allows one to prolong the process of saying goodbye to the departed. And instead of feeling burdened, one looks forward to the chance each day to stand at the close of minyan and recite that prayer.

It’s hard to imagine any death that doesn’t come too soon. Even for someone old and unwell, there’s never a right time to go. There’s always another visit, another conversation, another holiday or landmark to celebrate. But this was even more true for Jon, whose departure was so sudden and unexpected, and who died long before his time on earth should have run out. Who knew that our visit at Andy’s was the last time we’d have together? When I heard the news that he’d been killed skiing in France, I felt cheated; that I’d left things unsaid when we last spoke. I felt that I hadn’t been given time to say goodbye properly, to express everything I felt in my heart.

So for the past eleven months, as I went to minyan and said the Kaddish, I had a chance to think about Jon every time. It’s not possible to stand and recite that prayer without having your mind drift off to the deceased. The words become rote; they roll off your tongue without any need even to glance at the page. Instead of thinking of the words, as I stood and looked into the ark, I pictured Jon, often at Andy’s where I’d last seen him, sometimes at Carvel or the scene of some other high school misadventure, and not infrequently in that picture of him standing somewhere in the Alps, with nothing but snow and mountaintops behind him.

A couple months ago I pulled up a Jewish calendar on the web, and calculated eleven months from the day we went to Aspen for the memorial service. I picked that day, because with no Jewish burial, there was no other landmark for the commencement of the period of mourning. This evening was the last day. It was a blizzard here in Rochester, and it took some time for us to get a minyan; you can’t recite the Kaddish without a minyan. I was permitted to lead the service. Susan and Danny came, both a bit late because of the weather, but both arriving in time before the Kaddish. After eleven months, I’m still not reconciled to his loss – to the fact that we won’t ever again have the chance to catch up, to reminisce, to share a friendship that stretches back in time. But at least, for eleven months I’ve had the chance, every time I went to shul, to visit again with my friend. And this has, in some small measure, allowed me the time to say what I would have said last March, had I had the chance. Goodbye Jon, I’ll miss you.

Cocktails

I’ve been doing research on cocktails. Not just the laboratory work, but reading actual cocktail recipes, out of The Bartender’s Best Friend, by Mardee Regan, an excellent resource. I’m proceeding alphabetically, and have only gotten up through the D’s, but here are some of my discoveries, all of which have been sampled by experienced cocktail experts, or just by myself.

The Americano. A family favorite in hot weather is the Campari soda, which is nothing more than Campari and club soda with a wedge of lime. The Americano is equal parts Campari and sweet vermouth, with club soda and a wedge of lime. As you’d expect, a touch sweeter, and more rounded than plain Campari; this drink holds promise for next summer’s cookouts. I’d like John to give it a try, as he’s a big fan of Campari, but final judgment will have to wait until June or July. A drink like this can best be judged on a hot summer evening, when there are strips cooking on the grill, and one needs to work off a big thirst.

Merry Widow. Susan’s drink has become half sweet and half dry vermouth, with a twist. I can’t find this as an official cocktail (of course, I have another twenty-two letters in the alphabet), but with a dash of bitters, it’s called the Bittersweet. (OK, so that’s not such an original name.) This Merry Widow is half Dubonnet red, and half dry vermouth. Susan liked it, but found it a bit sweet, and I’ll agree with that judgment – the Dubonnet is sweeter than the sweet vermouth it replaces. So we fiddled with the recipe, and with a 2 to 3 ratio, it seemed just right. Who knows whether this drink will actually replace the old standard, but it has the advantage of an actual name, and a catchy name at that. (In case anyone cares, it was introduced at the Waldorf-Astoria, at the time of the opening of Lehar’s operetta of the same name. And as long as we’re going off on tangents, the use the name Merry Widow to describe a kind of corset, not that I’d know anything about provocative lingerie, also came from the same operetta.)

Bobby Burns. Before I became a dedicated drinker of single malts, I was a fan of Rusty Nails. These are a great late night cocktail, and for someone like me who isn’t much of a dessert eater, a fine after-dinner drink. They also have the advantage of being more readily available than good malts, because most any bar or restaurant will carry scotch and Drambuie. Anyway, I noticed this recipe as a potential substitute for the Rusty Nail. A Bobby Burns is 2 parts scotch, 1 part sweet vermouth, and ¼ part Benedictine. So it’s really a sweetened up Rob Roy, which is in turn a scotch Manhattan of sorts. Whatever. Actually, this was a pretty good drink. The Benedictine imparts not only sweetness, but a nice flavor to the drink, making it more interesting than a Rob Roy, and more comparable to the Rusty Nail.

My big concern about many of these drinks is that the average bartender won’t have a clue about making them. You can’t imagine the gyrations we go through just to get Susan’s sweet and dry vermouth. There are many spots with good bartenders, and there are bars which might even stock Benedictine on a regular basis, but I wouldn’t necessarily expect it at the average watering hole. Just by way of example – a week ago we went to dinner at the Strathallen Grill, a pretty high end place here in town, and could not even get a Rusty Nail. No Drambuie. Imagine that. Of course, had we wanted some lime green vodka concoction, I’m sure there would have been no problem. It's not easy being a traditionalist in these frivolous times. But that's a story for another posting.

Ted Loves Kitty

Before last night’s game, I took my friend Ted to Kitty Hoyne’s in Armory Square. Now Ted is Irish by descent, so perhaps was predisposed to enjoy Kitty’s many virtues. But I was pleased to see that not only did he enjoy himself, he practically fell in love.

We arrived early; and neither the pregame crowd, nor those who had finished work, and needed refreshment before heading home, had filled up the place yet. So having our choice of seats, we took two stools at the bar and asked for a whisky menu. Ted, being an observant lad, noticed the many taps only a couple feet from where we sat; and before we even had a chance to decide on some malts, he order a Guinness to get started.

I figured the wise thing to do was to stay with the Irish theme, so we asked for a couple of pot still Irish malts – Red Breast for Ted, and Jameson’s 12 for me. These two whiskies are actually very similar in character -- smooth drinking, very flavorful, and just a tad sweet from having aged in sherry casks. A fine way to get kick off the evening. I explained John’s theory that Irish whisky is the affordable alternative to single malt scotch, when one is traveling, and finds oneself at, for example, a hotel bar in midtown Manhattan, or a fancy eatery in Toronto. Those places will soak you for a tiny pour of scotch, simply because scotch whiskies, especially single malts, are associated with business guys on expense accounts. Who cares what the price is, just let’s have a glass of that Macallan. By contrast, Irish whisky carries less status, and is more apt to be ordered by your average whisky lover, and not some executive looking to impress his date. Still, Ted was knocked out by the quality of these malts, and it’s very hard to find fault with either one of them, both 12 years old, and both comparable to highland malts of a similar age.

Now that our thirsts had been quenched, we ordered dinner, and once again Ted was thoroughly impressed. He had shepherd’s pie, a traditional pub dish, and proclaimed it far superior to the shepherd’s pie he usually orders at some famous Manhattan hangout. So by now, the whisky was great; the food was great; and who can complain about Guinness? But we saved the best for last. After dinner I had our bar maid bring a glass of Connemara, the peated Irish malt. One glass to share. But God bless him, Ted fell head over heels for Connemara, never having tasted peated whisky before. When we finished that first glass, he had to have one for himself. He proclaimed everything about Kitty’s as perfect – the atmosphere, the selection of beers and whiskies, the food, and the prices. If we didn’t have basketball tickets, and weren’t ninety miles from home, we might not have left for another several hours.

As it was, however, we had some time before tip-off, and to give Ted the full Armory Square introduction, I took him over to the Blue Tusk, where no fewer than 69 beers are on tap. We picked a couple of Middle Ages products, wanting to support the local brewery, and were both pleased with our choices -- Duke of Winship porter for me, and Wailing Wench IPA for Ted. While standing at the bar, and enjoying our beer, we took notice of the Tusk’s selection of whiskies. Their inventory may not compare to Kitty’s, but it’s more extensive than most pubs or bars outside of Armory square. Recalling that Ted loved the peated taste of Connemara, I asked for a glass of Lagavulin. After all, if it’s peated whisky you’re after, is there anything better than Lagavulin? The answer is no. And what better way to end an evening of pub hopping, and whisky sampling, than with a glass of the very same Islay malt that first got me hooked on the whole single malt business? I just can’t wait until G-Man comes to the Cuse.

Eric Dolphy Rediscovered

The last album Coltrane recorded for Atlantic was Olé Coltrane, an underrated, and rarely played recording. Coltrane played with a sextet, the same size group which Miles had led when they recorded, for instance, Kind of Blue. Trane was still experimenting with different ensembles—for Africa Brass he used a large horn section; for the Village Vanguard sessions, he added an alto; and eventually he settled into the famous quartet that recorded much of his groundbreaking work of the early sixties.

In any event, this sextet features a terrific alto and flute player, reportedly named George Lane, who was otherwise unknown to me. And how exactly did an unknown horn player first get to record with John Coltrane, and then entirely disappear from the planet? It should have occurred to me much earlier, but I only recently learned that George Lane was, in reality, Eric Dolphy, who apparently was contractually prohibited from recording on Atlantic, at least under his true name. This is an especially exciting discovery, because there are very few recordings of Dolphy’s work. He is perhaps best known as the alto player on the Vanguard sessions, and there he seemed to push Coltrane to new and more creative frontiers. He also recorded around three albums in his own name. But because he died soon thereafter, he did not leave a large body of work; and I was happy to discover that I actually had another great example of his playing right there on the shelf, alongside all the other Coltrane CDs.

Meanwhile, it was another aggravating night in the Dome, notwithstanding the narrow win over Cincinnati. How exactly do we have a game where the team shoots over fifty percent from the field, and over eighty percent from the free-throw line, yet wins by only one point? When shooting that well, how did we surrender a nineteen point lead, and find ourselves down by three with around thirty seconds to go? One way to accomplish that is to commit lots of turnovers, and for the third time in only five conference games, the team had twenty or more turnovers. The leading turnover artist, perhaps even the turnover master, is our point guard Josh Wright. It’s so discouraging to watch him in these games, because his play is so selfish. His idea of running the offense is to dribble the ball seventy-five times before even attempting to pass. (That’s only if he doesn’t launch a three.) His passes are so infrequent that when he finally decides to give up the ball, he can’t quite get it to his teammate, at least not where the guy can do anything with it. D-Nic is open on the wing, but the pass is off the mark, so by the time he moves for the ball, and sets his feet again, the defender is all over him.

The other thing that has happened much of the year is that the team does not play with intensity for forty minutes. Early in the year, they had a pattern of falling way behind, and then struggling to catch up. Tonight, they were on fire for much of the first half, and then went to sleep for the final twenty minutes. They stopped pounding the ball inside; they settled for threes too easily; they stopped getting steals; and they let Cincinnati back into the game.

However, the good news was that, for the first time this year, they were able to win in the final couple minutes. They actually trailed by three with around 35 seconds to go, yet managed to win in regulation. When they had that chance against Wichita State, they couldn’t finish. When they fought back against Pitt, they couldn’t close the gap. So even though this game shouldn’t have been close, these close games help prepare the team for tournament time. Now I certainly don't want to jinx them, but it’s only the middle of January, and they have 15 wins; and if they keep playing well, they should have a chance to play in March. Now, if they can only figure out how not to turn the ball over so regularly.

Good News Saturday

Three quality wins in a row. After road wins against Marquette and Rutgers, Cuse came home and treated the biggest crowd of the season, not to mention a CBS Saturday audience, to a convincing 11 point win over Nova. This was particularly impressive considering that Devendorf hardly scored, and that Cuse had 20 turnovers. That deficiency was more than offset by good shooting – 55% from the field; over 50% from 3-point range; and 75% from the stripe. Josh Wright has been on my nerves all season, and today was no exception, but I’ll give him props for good free throw shooting. He and D-Nic are over 80% and Devendorf isn’t far behind. That makes it tough for Orange opponents to come back late in games; and even though they had a few misses, which kept Cuse from pushing to a twenty point lead, they hit enough foul shots late to keep the margin in double figures.

One thing appeared clear today; the Orange had been at a disadvantage without a healthy Mookie and Terrance in the lineup at the same time. First Mookie got busted in the nose, and had to wear a mask for a month. The Terrance sprained his knee and missed around three games. In the middle of all that, Cuse went on a little slump, dropping close games to some good opponents. But this past week, for the first time since early in the year, both big guys have been healthy. Today both of them hit double figures, and Terrance had 14 boards. With D-Nic at the small forward, if they all stay healthy, this is a good front line.

Another encouraging sign was seven assists from Eric D. Cuse misses having a good point guard, but if Eric can handle the point guard duties, that’s a huge benefit. Especially because he can get into the lane; so if big men double up on him to prevent him from scoring, he can dish. Shades of Billy E, our last good point guard. And let’s not forget the defense. After holding Marquette and Rutgers under 60, they held Nova and Sumpter to 64. With the shooters we have this year, those defensive numbers will be very effective.

The game was even more enjoyable with a glass of Highland Park 15. When the 15 was released, early reviews were not terribly encouraging, and so I stayed away. But tastings.com loves it, and Mr. Jackson gives it good marks, albeit not as good as the 18, or even the 12. In any event, I gave it a try, and I’m pleased to report that I was not at all disappointed. On the contrary, very impressed – especially for this modest price (under $50). I think it’s smoother and richer than the 12, and can’t quite figure out why it scores any lower than the other. HP remains one of my very favorites, and this malt has a very satisfying combination of flavor and smoothness.

So that’s the plan for the rest of the winter – good shooting, strong defense, and great malts. If we can just cut down on the turnovers, this season might do deep into March.

A Maddening Year

I can just tell it’s going to be a maddening year. A week ago, as I sat in the dome with the old PH, and watched Cuse lose to Pitt, I told everyone who would listen that this team could never go anywhere without a good point guard. Josh Wright is too selfish, and too rockheaded, for this team to achieve any real measure of success. OK, so maybe they would get to the tournament; but did they have any chance of surviving beyond the first round? Three times they had played well against ranked opponents, yet each of those times they had, in the end, come up short.

That was a week ago. Since then, Cuse has been on the road, and twice come up with convincing wins. First, they beat Marquette, who followed up the loss with a victory over UConn. And then they went into the rack at Rutgers (I’m not even sure why it’s called the rack.) and came away with their second Big East road win in a week. Each time the defense held the opponent under 60, and each time Eric Devendorf had come of the bench to lead the team in scoring. So maybe I’m wrong; maybe this team can win some close games, some tough conference games; and maybe come year end they can go a couple rounds in the tournament. More likely though, there will be setbacks along the way. Frustrating losses in games they should have won. Who knows?

Let’s look on the bright side for a minute. For the past several weeks, we’ve had either Mookie or Terrence injured, but in the last couple games, both have been playing well. When they’re both active, and contributing, we have a great front line. And even in the Pitt game, which we lost, Mookie played Aaron Gray to a stand-off. So maybe part of the problem was that we didn’t have a healthy front line. Another item – in the last couple games, our foul shooting has been very impressive. Good front line play, good foul shooting – all we need is better play from the point guard, fewer turnovers, and then maybe we’re really getting somewhere.

Enough hoops talk. Let’s turn our attention to a more pressing subject, malt whisky. Danny got another great bottle for the holidays – last year it was Highland Park 25, perhaps the best whisky in the world, and this year it was Macallan 21, Fine Oak. Macallan has two parallel series, one aged in sherry casks, and the other in fine oak. I’ve had the 15 Fine Oak on many occasions at the ChopHouse, and it’s a great whisky, especially for the price, but this 21 was something special. Unbelievably flavorful and so smooth, like velvet, like a baby’s bottom, like sheared beaver (the kind you find on fur coats). Well, you get my point. As much as I liked it, I told Danny I only wanted to taste it on special occasions, because drinking it too often would spoil me – would make expect too much from a glass of malt.

On the home front, where our scotch is much more affordable, we have been drinking Clynelish the past few weeks. I first tasted Clynelish at the very first scotch tasting we ever attended. Somehow, even though we liked it, we lost track of this whisky, and never bought it. I always like to have a basic malt around, something to drink on weekdays – something that’s affordable yet tasty. So I’ve had Glenmorangie 10, Aberlour 10, HP 12, Macallan 12, all the old reliable malts. But not until recently did I have Clynelish for the everyday malt whisky. And now, I’m happy to report that this malt belongs right next to all these other stand-bys in the liquor cabinet. It’s stronger than most, over ninety proof, but with a bit of water, it’s just as smooth, and in ways more flavorful than many of the above. John feels it has a bit of a bitter aftertaste, but for me that’s more of a peppery bite, a spicy flavor that sets Clynelish apart from the other everyday malts.

One final observation – we have a recent comment from an anonymous visitor. A sarcastic little jab about malted milk balls. Now I’m not certain, but I suspect this chickenshit comment came from my old sex education teacher, to whom reference was made in this very blog last month. So if I’m right, next time you visit, forget about that anonymous business. If you want to post or comment – have the conviction to declare your identity. Don’t hide behind that veil of anonymity – you’ll get no respect from any of us, regardless of how witty you try to be. And the hell with all that secret skull and bones shit. If you can’t sign your name to your comment, what’s the point of writing? Think about it next time you visit.