After a family celebration recently, I found myself at home, squinting a bit (curse you Yorkshire Terrier) with a newly opened bottle of Ardbeg Uigeadail. A generous measure was poured, inhaled, warmed gently in my hand.
It was then poured back in it’s bottle for another day…..
So why is that, you say? (Well, i did). It was a special occasion in the family, I had bypassed other ‘everyday’ drams and gone for something quite special (ok, within budget restraints).
The fact was, i’d had enough. Beer and whisky are no mixture for me – and this probably saved a particularly bad hangover. But the point is, I’ve found myself enjoying a glass or few of whisky – either in a tasting environment, or keeping warm at home – but i mean, really enjoying the whisky. It’s the same level of enjoyment a cold beer offers after a long day in the sun, or a pint of bitter can offer after walking across fields in driving rain – to be warmed up by a real fire, steak pie and a real pint. Glorious.
So where does whisky fit into this equation of enjoyment? Several places really, but at the end of a quantity of beer is not the place. It’s not a chaser, it’s not one for the road. It’s not a shot or a mixer. Not for me anyway. It’s poured, savoured, inhaled and appreciated.
Quantity is not part of this, quality is. My bottle Uigeagail awaits another purpose – perhaps one which is far more sober than the last.