Now to serious stuff, the Scotsman's staff of life, whisky
that's been brewed from either water that gushed up from a deep
underground spring or peat stained water that's trickled through
the heather and rumbled down a mountain burn. Brewers the world
over have tried to imitate Scotch and all have failed miserably.
First and foremost many Scottish men will tell you that it's an
absolute desecration to add ice or anything to Scotch other than maybe
the tiniest dribble of tap water. They will tell you that if your preference is to add
anything other than that to your whisky then
do not waste good
Scotch or your money but instead buy any other brew that catches your
is best imbibed in the company of a good friend as after a hard
day the shoes are kicked off, you settle in to comfy arm chairs,
lay back, close your eyes and reminisce. I've often been asked
what is it that's in Scotch that makes it so different and sets it apart from
all other drinks? There's a very good reason why Scotch is called
Scotch but every Scottish man would answer the question a little bit
differently. I'll let you in on a few of the ingredients of what's intilt for me besides malted barley and peat stained water.
the mists of time.
It's the ancient land of the sun worshipping Picts,
Its my ancestral homeland that
never lets go of its own.
It's stately medieval castles and humble thatched abodes.
majestic snow capped mountains and lonely heather clad moors.
the red grouse calling go-back, go-back, go-back, go-back as a
covey skims low ower the heather.
the camaraderie of the gowf.
the trill of the skylarks as they hover above their nests in the
the sight of Arctic terns in flight at Ruddons Point.
the 12th of August when the heather is in bloom.
the flash of a lighthouse as its reassuring beam of light sweeps
the roar of the sea as the waves from a North Sea gale crash
on to the shore.
the silence that prevails when the sea is dead calm.
the romantic and the nostalgic music of the people and the land.
the sight of brave men on their fishing boats as they head out
the sound o' the geese calling to one another as they
fly high on a moonlight night.
the cackle of water tumbling over boulders and the
flash of a wee troot in a
a salmon leaping up the falls as it heads for home.
two men in a wee boat "flinging fleas" on a loch.
the shiver that runs thru my being when I hear the haunting,
lonesome cry of a long billed curlew as it calls and is answered
by its mate on
a rocky windswept seashore.
significance of the gift of a thistle.
It's the swing of the kilt
and the far away skirl of the pipes drifting on the wind.
It's the shepherd with his
ram's horn crook and his collie dog keeping their flock in
battles won and causes lost.
It's a cozy warming fire and the smell of peat reek.
It's the remembrance of absent friends the world over.
These are a few of the magic ingredients that can not be bought that are intilt
for me that sets Scotch
apart from every other libation and worth its every bawbee.
relish the moment in time.
the moon is high, turn
the lamp low. Slide down into your favorite armchair, gaze into
the flickering fire and into a wee hand warmed finely cut crystal glass,
decant a generous jigger and a half of either a single malt or a
blend. Take a sip that's only enough to
dampen the lips and the tongue. Sip it slowly. Ever, ever so
the seas gang dry, which means---
Forever, till the end of time.",
a few words about single malts and blends.