Whisky in the Woods

So many important things have been happening of late, and I haven’t taken the time to post. For example, and not in any particular order – Cuse is now 19-8, traveling to Providence for their next game, looking to have 20 wins before the Big east tourney, all of which suggests they may get invited to the tournament after all. Diageo is building a new malt whisky distillery, apparently the first malt whisky (as opposed to grain whisky) distillery built in Scotland in a century. It seems there is an ever-growing worldwide demand for good malt whisky, and of course, if demand goes up, sooner or later the price will go up as well. The good news may be that, if the new distillery produces whisky for blending, that should free up more single malt whisky for you and me. Also, spring training is about to begin, and soon we’ll find out if Dice-K was worth the $103million the Sox agreed to fork over. It seems that the Sox are already recouping some of these expenditures, by reason of Japanese sponsorships. (Some company has paid around $1million a year for its logo to appear behind Dice-K whenever he’s interviewed.) However, all these pressing topics will have to wait for a later posting, because today we went snow-shoeing (if that’s even a verb), and drank whisky in the woods.

The best drink I ever recall, out of a lifetime of wine, whisky and beer drinking, was a Jack Daniels and water in the Adirondacks in 1975. Susan and I climbed Haystack on a beautiful May day, which turned out to be just a bit warmer than we expected. Actually, more like the year’s first heat wave – it was probably 85 in the Adirondacks that day, unusually warm at any time, but especially so that early in the year. We climbed from Phelps leanto, up past Indian Falls, over the Marcy plateau, back down toward Panther Gorge, and then up to Haystack. By the time we reached the summit, we were out of water. And although we got to soak our bandanas in some trailside rivulets, we didn’t have another drink of water until we reached Indian Falls on the way down. By the time we got back to our camp, we were hot, tired, and thirsty. We had left a flask of Jack at our campsite, and I quickly retrieved that, grabbed the tin cup from my mess kit, and found a comfortable rock out in the middle of Phelps brook. Jack Daniels chased with ice-cold mountain stream water. (This was back when you could drink right from the stream without any fear of Giardia.) Thirty years later, I still recall that drink as the tastiest, and certainly most refreshing cocktail of my entire life.

Today, Susan and I went out to Mendon Ponds Park in the late afternoon, as the sun was going down, and snow-shoed for close to an hour. It was a half-assed kind of holiday today; I had been the office for most of the day, even though all the public buildings were closed, and much of downtown was quiet. Still, any workday leaves one in the perfect mood for a drink before dinner. So when we went out to the park, we brought a flask with Macallan 10 along; not that we really needed it; we weren’t going for all that long. More like we wanted to enhance the experience of being in the great outdoors. And usually we go out with the snow-shoes in the early morning, so it would be a bit over the top to be drinking scotch when you haven’t had your full compliment of coffee for the day. In any event, today was the perfect occasion for a drink in the woods. And that Macallan was just outstanding. Now I’ve compared the 10 to my favorite everyday malt, HP12, and intend to write about that comparison in the near future. Not to give anything away, but the Macallan 10 really can’t compare to any of the HPs. I’ve become a big fan of the Macallan 15 fine oak, a big, full-flavored, and very smooth drinking whisky. Not overly pricey either. And it’s hard to complain about the Macallan 18, aside from its price. But the 10, which is the youngest they market, is a bit thin, certainly compared to the HP. Also, a touch harsh; it needs a few more years in the cask to mellow. But in the woods, in the cold, after working up a sweat climbing up and down the hills, it was remarkable. It tasted as good as any glass of malt whisky I’ve tasted in the past several years, and I’ve had a chance to sample some pretty good malts.

So I guess the lesson is that the setting counts. We’ve learned that a glass of whisky drunk in the pit, when the smoker is all fired up, or some steaks are on the grill, tastes just that much better. And it’s unfortunate that one can no longer bring a flask into a football game, because I’m certain that a taste in the fall air, perhaps after a touchdown or an interception, would be that much sweeter and smoother as well. I recall that G-Man and I enjoyed a touch of Aberlour 15, along with a couple good cigars, when we sat outside Turning Stone last summer. That was a wonderful setting for a glass of whisky, and the Aberlour seemed as smooth and flavorful that afternoon as any malt we had ever drunk. So for future reference, a flask of malt whisky ought to accompany us whenever we venture into the woods during the wintertime, regardless of the activity or the hour.