About a year ago, I sat down with one of my best friends, Jeff, at a Manhattan whisky bar and had my first whisky tasting.
He asked me, “What do you want to try?”
I responded, “Something that fits me.”
He laughed and motioned to the bar manager to bring me a set of four whiskies comprised of: Yamazaki 12, Glenlivet 12, Lagavulin 16 and Highland Park 12.
I stared at the four drams in front of me, unsure of what to expect. Last time my friend introduced me to a new drink, I turned into a fire-breathing dragon. What would happen to me this time with four very different and supposedly distinct whiskies?
He instructed me to taste from the lightest (in flavor and color) to the darkest, drinking water as a palette cleanser in between.
So I started.
Yamazaki 12. Hmmm, interesting. Not too spicy. Not too light. Not too smoky. Just the right balance.
Glenlivet 12. My boss drinks this. Professional. Smoky. A bit of a kick. “Get your shit done” drink. Hmmm, interesting….
Lagavulin 16. Smooth. Smoky. That’s all. Wait, add some water? Okay. Wow. Caramel? Sweet. Warm? A fireplace. Curled up with a blanket. Satisfied. Happy. Oh my… Got to move on to the last drink. One more sip though.
Highland Park 12. Smoky. Oak. Woods. Adventurous. Axe. Beard. Woodsman. Oh my gosh. Am I seeing a vision of myself as Wolverine each time I sip this drink?
“Rose? Are you okay?”
I came out of my trance and stared at Jeff. I didn’t realize that with every sip, I had become quieter, entranced by each unique taste. It felt like my taste buds took me on adventures I had yet to have. It was exciting… exhilarating.
Jeff laughed at the disbelief on my face. “Enjoying the experience, huh?”
I nodded. I told him about the random thoughts that popped into my head. Those word associations, seemingly random, really wasn’t at all. It was a special sensation—a particular interaction—I had with each whisky. When my mind led me through those experiences, I noticed that I felt transformed into a different persona and the drinks exhibited the traits of each persona. Basically, the drinks brought out feelings in me that I had reserved for people.
I was shocked.
How could a drink do that to me? Moreover, how could I be having these sensations when I was not yet intoxicated?
“So, what’s your favorite of the four?” Jeff asked nonchalantly.
It was a question I knew would inevitably come. I had prepared myself for this moment since the beginning. I looked at the semi-empty tasting glasses in front of me. There they were, distinct from one another. Each one tooted its the traits. Each one begged me to select it.
- Yamazaki: “I’m perfectly balanced.”
- Glenlivet: “I make it rain.”
- Lagavulin: “I understand you?”
- Highland Park: “I’d take you out of your comfort zone.”
Though I already knew my answer, I hesitated. How was I going to respond to my friend without sounding, well, crazy?
Finally, in a soft but definitive voice, I replied, “Lagavulin.”
“Great! That’s one of my favorites too. So let’s try a few more.”
I stared at Jeff, unblinking. “No. It’s… Lagavulin!”
“Huh?”
“I’m in love.”
“Wait, with whom?”
“Lagavulin 16. It’s perfect for me. It understands me. It knows what I want.” Having it on my lips was like curling up in front of a roaring fireplace with your significant other on a cold wintery day. Relaxing. Comfortable. Warm. Satisfying. Perfect.
He laughed and patted me on the back. “Amazing…” he noted and motioned for the bar manager to bring us a glass of Lagavulin each.
When the glasses came, I felt my heart flutter. I was in love and it was love at first taste.
I wet my lips and muttered softly to myself, “Mmmm, Lagavulin… whiskey me up…”
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