My friend Gary is an interesting guy. He designs custom cabinetry for private aircraft for a living. He’s warm and welcoming but with a bitter wit. He’s comfortable with his priorities. He’s a guy who’d rather spend his money upgrading his hi-end audio system with a new vacuum tube amplifier than replace the missing bumper on his aging Ford F150. He’s an avid music lover and foodie, although I think he’d find that latter term too pretentious. In museums, he’s allowed to touch the art. Wait, that’s a Dos Equis commercial. Gary is also a collector. He has thousands of vinyl records. Hundreds of vintage beer glasses. There are all sorts of cool collectibles including ashtrays, beer signs, and some retro advertising novelties like a metal box with a scotty dog perch on its lid that not only stores cigarettes, but lights one for you when you open it. That brings me to the liquor collection. Among the array of bourbons, rums, vodkas, absinthes, and liqueurs in Gary’s bar, there are several bottles of single malt scotch. Some he brought back from Scotland. Some were gifts. Some he bought out of curiousity. But, Gary is not really a scotch drinker. So he says.
I attended an delicious and informative Compass Box scotch tasting dinner with some friends at Luma on Park Avenue. Having missed this event, Gary invited myself and our mutual friend, Steve over the following night for a scotch tasting of our own at his house. Gary pulled out four or five different bottles and I tasted small pours of each with a cube or two of ice. Steve would pour his with some water. I had tried single malts in the past but hadn’t warmed up to them. They were too harsh. Their flavors were too peculiar or medicinal, or the alcohol bite too forward. I was a loyal blended scotch drinker. The always smooth, Johnny Walker Black Label has been my drink of choice. Between the two nights of tasting, these single malts were tasting good. They were interesting. The differences in flavors were intriguing. This was good fun. Steve developed a plan: once a month or so, we’d repeat this tasting at Gary’s. Someone would bring a new scotch to sample and leave that bottle in Gary’s bar. Gary agreed.
Scotch night has occurred three times now, replete with good eats prepared by our host; listening to music from his vast collection and occasionally, cigars are added to the mix. We’ve tasted over a dozen scotches so far. From the mild Glenrothes that I picked up simply because I liked the rustic corrugated packaging, to a sixteen year old cask strength Glenlivet. Four from the Johnny Walker family: Black, Gold, Blue and Swing.
We’ve learned a lot about scotch. Single malts are scotches are distilled by a single distillery. Vatted malts are blended malts from a variety of distilleries. When malts and unmalted grain scotch whiskeys are mixed, that’s called a blended. There are some single grain scotches out there as well, but they are not as popular as blends or single malts. Non-chill-filtered scotches turn a little cloudy when ice or water is added. We’ve learned what we like and don’t like. We were all fans of similarly named Balvenie and Dalwinnie. It seems I’m the only one in the group that actually likes very peaty scotches from the isle of Islay like Lagavulin 16 and Laphroig which we’ve name Peat and Super Peat, respectively. Steve’s research unearthed what may be the best value in scotch: Highland Park, a terrific single malt very reasonably priced at around $42. Cask strength scotches are not mixed with water at the distillery like other scotches and have a higher alcohol content. We also learned that Roomano (yes, with two o’s) is a great cheese to pair with scotch. It’s a hard cheese much like aged gouda, but with a more buttersctoch like flavor.
I don’t know when the next scotch night will take place, but I’m already looking forward to it. And, the quest is on for the next bottle to taste. And, by the way, I’m pretty sure Gary will still tell you he’s not a scotch drinker.
Friend and host, Gary.
Steve's research.
Roomano
