The First Time
Who doesn’t remember the first time they had a proper drink? I know I do. I was sixteen and three quarters, he was twenty-one, the whisky was 12.
On one warm summer day in Fife, which alone makes it memorable, we don’t get a lot of sunny summer days in Scotland so we make the best of them. I was in the back garden of my boyfriend’s house, his parents were out.
The boyfriend was an enthusiastic home brewer. He was very proud of his first palatable batch of barley wine and he wanted me to share some. Wow that stuff was bitter! However, I was a sophisticated lady and did not immediately spit it out. Recognizing that perhaps the wine, which I think was more like a beer, was not making the best impression, he decided that I should try some good whisky instead.
Out came the bottle of Glenfiddich 12 yr old Single Malt whisky. The distinctive dark green triangular prism bottle was intriguing. A generous glass was poured and I took a gulp. Big mistake! I was not prepared for the onslaught of smoke and fire which hit my throat like a diesel engine. So this is whisky? I instantly felt tremendous respect for my father, a very experienced whisky drinker.
Obviously, I had previously tried a few cocktails, Tequila Sunrise was the girls' predominant tipple at the time. A little illegal, the drinking age for liquor is 18, but a terribly pretty color and tasted like juice. This whisky was a surprise. After giving me a pat on the back and a drink of water, the boyfriend explained the finer points of drinking a Single Malt. For a happy hour or so we sipped at our Glenfiddich and he pointed out many tasting notes and explained the whole whisky-making process, fun boyfriend but quite intense.
The issue for me was that it was so different from anything I had drunk before. The smell should have been my first clue, had I spent a milli-second smelling it before taking that big gulp, my nose would have told me to take it slowly. The big gulp resulted in a shock to my poor, almost innocent, taste buds and my throat did not know what I was playing at. The next three or four or five sips i was informed how to identify different aspects of whisky, taste, smell, color, etc. and that was quite fun. We ate our picnic in-between and I am sure talked of many things. Then as I was trying to taste it “on my lips” it stripped off some dry skin and I had little bits of stuff floating in the whisky and that was the end of that first glass.
For the next eighteen months or so the boyfriend introduced me to many other Single Malts. So many different taste sensations, some mild, some smooth, some smoky. I was hooked. That was 43 years ago. I’m still drinking Single Malts - just as long as it does not come in a dark green triangular prism bottle.
My love affair with single malts lasted much longer than that summer. I am forever grateful to my boyfriend/guide and I do love many Single Malts, however, Glenfiddich is spoiled for me. I am still unable to look at that triangular bottle with anything but a shudder! As my mother would tell me, “If you can’t be a shining example you can serve as a terrible warning.” I hope this will serve as a warning for those beginning their exploration of Scottish Single Malts. Do not let your inexperience spoil it for you. I advise booking an event with Scottish Whisky, Southern Charm and we will make sure you are guided through the whole experience!
NB. As I was writing this I thought I should give Glenfiddich another try, nope, still can’t do it. My brain has declared it a no-go area. I have the same reaction to Cider, but that is another story.
