The last half-inch: Dun Bheagan 2002

I've been meaning to review this scotch for a while now.  I even took a picture last week.  See?

This particular glass of drink was a lovely audience while I practiced a few 6/8 sets.

 Somehow, though, I ended up with a mostly-empty bottle of scotch on the kitchen counter.  It astounds me every time.  I leave it there, and it gradually evaporates over a couple of weeks (at best).  Evaporation is slowed somewhat by keeping it in the cupboard next to the Ouzo, I've discovered.  Regardless, there I was, looking at the last half-inch of lovely golden peaty yumminess, feeling sorry for it.  Fortunately, I had a clean glass on hand as was able to rescue those lonely couple of ounces from their vacuous imprisonment.

This is Dun Bheagan.  It's an 8-year old single malt scotch from the Islay region.  I have gone through several bottles of the stuff, even though it's not available on the shelf in my local LCBO's.  Whenever I'm out of town, I look for it and bring home a few bottles.  In my reasonably uneducated opinion, it's one of the best scotches one can buy for under $50.

It has a lovely reddish-gold colour to my eye, and sticks nicely to the glass,  slowly and gracefully sliding down after a swirl.  The nose is pretty mild, compared to the taste.  Somehow, all I can think of is soap when I smell it, but a mildly flower-scented soap.

Okay, fine, I admit it -- I'd consider it as an eau de toilette.

At first sip, this scotch stands out as something different from the everyday.  It has something to say, but it's not quite as aggressive as Ardbeg, which I must find again to review someday.  It is peaty, gently smoky, warm, woody, slightly nutty and just a hint medicinal when it hits the tastebuds, but a few moments later, it blossoms into a big flowery mouthful of forest glen after an early autumn rain.  It has a long finish, but not too long -- it leaves me wanting more.  It's a tiny bit spicy like cinnamon and allspice at the very tail end, maybe a bit of black pepper.  It's kind of like pfefferneuse (that's a cookie -- if you like this scotch, you'll probably love pfefferneuse).

I sip this scotch, and I feel like I'm in bed at an amusement park yelling AGAIN! AGAIN!  More!!!!

I like this scotch as neat as it comes out of the bottle, but for the purposes of this review, I added a drop of water to the last few sips: it definitely changes it and mellows it a bit, but I don't think it's for the better.  I taste more flowers, but also more soapy cleanliness. I like the big round fullness of the out-of-the-bottle dram.

In short, this is up near the top of my list for bang for my buck.  If you're going for smooth and subtle, this is maybe not your scotch.  But it also won't beat you over the head with a sock full of pennies.  Case in point, my friend who swore he hated Islays loves this one -- and he has tried other Islays since (although he won't touch Ardbeg).

Happy St. Patrick's Day! The Irishman Single Malt

March 17 this year is the 13th anniversary of the day I met, and started dating, my husband (we've been married close to 9 years now).  As the story goes, we were the only people in the campus pub at quarter-past-noon on St. Patrick's day, and we were both drinking Guinness.  It was a match made by the Good Saint himself, as my fella explained it to his mother, who may or may not have differing opinions of the issue.

Anyhow, seeing as the propitious day was looming, I went to the liquor store the other day to purchase a four-pack of draught cans of Guinness.  However, since the aforementioned day was looming a tad too... loomily, they were sold out.  Whisky Girl was not about to settle for the "Irish Red" beer that was available , so I headed over the vintages section and, after some eeny-meeny-miney consideration, I picked up a bottle of The Irishman.

At $59.95, it wasn't the $82 that I also spent on the Triple-Distilled Hazelburn CV that also somehow ended up under my arm on the way to the cash register (and which I'll review another day), so it's a fair gamble, right?  Right.

So, on to the evaluation: 

It's got a pretty bottle, but I'm nervous about getting the label off to add to my file-card collection.  Nice colour -- but then, they all have a nice colour, don't they?  This whiskey has legs, too.  Legs that should be wearing real silk stockings, I tell ya! 

On the nose, it smells like whiskey.  Okay, see, I admit to not having much of a nose for details.  I get kind of overwhelmed by the alcohol and the excitement.  I understand that smell is important, but I don't buy whiskey to smell, I buy it to drink.  Best guess, it smells kind of flowery, maybe a bit of lemon or other citrus.

On the tongue, it's really very yummy.  A bit "warming" but pretty smooth.  I taste butterscotch and honey, maybe a bit of ginger or something?  There's a woody or nutty undertone that balances the whole thing nicely.  Finishing, it fades away slowly and gracefully but doesn't do as some do.  That is, I didn't notice a change that hit me with another flavour after I swallowed. 

In short, I'll be happy to work my way through this bottle over the next little while, and would certainly buy another for myself or as a gift.

Hubby and I enjoyed a glass mid-afternoon.  Then I enjoyed another around dinner time.  Finally, it was time to hit the town!  My dearly beloved had, this afternoon, picked up tickets for a play he knew I wanted to see (400 Kilometers, by Drew Hayden Taylor), so we headed downtown in time for a drink at the pub before the show.  It was a coin flip between the Bushmills and the Jamieson's.  I ordered us a pair of doubles of the former.  Not as enjoyable as The Irishman, but drinkable.  

We hiked up the hill a bit early for the play, but Lo!  They have a licensed lounge! Huzzah. A pair of Miller Genuine Drafts for a chaser, and we headed for our seats to laugh our pants off until intermission (when it was time for a top-up with a bit of Glenfiddich 12) and then back in to laugh more and end by shedding a few tears -- okay, well, he didn't actually spill tear, but I leaked out a few. 

By then, of course, I was hungry, and I still hadn't had my Guinness.  Back to the pub!  By now it was full.  Well, actually, there were lots of empty seats, but apparently they belonged to people who were outside smoking -- seat-holding for smokers is another rant for another day.  Wanting to keep jovial, we leaned up against the end of the bar, and ordered a tray of the best nachos in town, a pint of Guinness, and a glass of water for my dear driver, who bravely contended with the pea-soup fog to get me home safely.

 Another successful liquor purchase, and another successful celebration of St. Patrick's Day.   That's enough luck for me.  

Cheers!

Hey, I've got an idea!

So I was standing in the shower the other day (ain't that an image? Trust me, it's an image worth imagining...) and I thought to myself:

-hey, you know what would be fun?

-sneaking around at night and painting people's front steps outlandish colours?

-well, yeah, but also... a blog about scotch!

-I'm listening...

-well, that label collection is really growing, and that's cool and all, but there's so much that's missing

-like what?

-well, like all the stories about how that whisky ended up in the cupboard and what I ended up doing before, during an after consuming it, for example...

-you want to tell the world all that?!

-sure!  why not?

-even about the time that--

-okay, well it doesn't have to be every little detail....

-fair enough.  Alright.  Sure.  Sounds fun.  Let's do it!

-that's that, then.  Want to sit down with a drink and think out the details?