Religion and Ethics Forum
General Category => General Discussion => Topic started by: Nearly Sane on February 25, 2018, 10:57:04 AM
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Warning! Danger, Will Robinson! Danger, Will Robinson!
This is one of my long discursive posts. It was prompted by an exchange elsewhere about what the most Scottish thing about Scotland is. In the midst of yet another bout of insomnia, the question returned to me and an answer and a set of reasons that were a voicing of many of my tropes and obsessions emerged. And so you, if you choose, get to read what that was – but you are forewarned.
Growing up in the West of Scotland, I was often not entirely sure of my nationality. First there’s weirdness that is British, or as it should be UKish, something I’ve never felt despite it undoubtedly being my cultural reference. Then Scottish, which in part felt but it competed, due to family connections, and the savage influence of sectarianism, with Irish. My maternal grandparents had been born in Ireland, and with visits there on holiday at an early age, the LPs of Irish songs in the house (which were hidden away by my mother when the troubles began their bloody flowering), and the tricolour and Soldier’s Song at Parkhead when I started going to football matches, the emotional attachment grew.
Oddly enough any real belief in either of those bonds seemed to begin to fade when I gave up supporting Celtic to become more precisely local in my football support. Having watched the buses go to Ibrox one week, and then been in the buses to Parkhead the next, I found it suddenly strange that there was another local team that wasn’t supported. Once I started going to Morton, the lack of expectation, and the lack of constant rivalry, St, Mirren never really counts, the enjoyment of supporting a team and not hating another made a move to a less deep affection for nationality seemed natural. That was combined with a growing knowledge that the Irish/Scottish, Catholic/Protestant dualities were not really about separation but an emphasis on tiny imagined differences. My grandparents, though Irish, boasted incredibly Scottish names, at least one of which would be thought of as more likely Protestant, in Campbell and Forsyth. The names, witness to the intertwined, interbred, and even sometimes, despite the hatred, intermarried history of the two countries. None of that knowledge was derived from schools history, which other than the mirroring of Elizabeth the first of England, and Mary, Queen of Scots, and the following union of the crowns under James, was bereft of anything that was Scottish.
So when I considered the question, it was with an ambivalence that I don’t really care much for nationality. I can’t escape some of it and I feel deep unease that I still have that deep atavistic surge of pleasure when Scotland beats England at sport, even if it’s only rugby. And yet there was one thing that far and above anything else is Scottish about Scotland, and that is whisky.
It is above all our global brand, drunk widely and admired and imitated. It is known as Scotch, which even as the knee jerk objection to the term when it is used for people emphasises that brand and that linking. Alcohol is often a brand for other nations, vodka in spirits, French wine but nothing else has that link. We even have another national drink, which has its own links to whisky with a fiery taste, and a vibrant version of the colour, the orange ginger of youth as opposed to the gentler russet of age.
Even more than the global reach, it is also something that marks the geography of Scotland. The brandy of France does not show the link that its wine does, and the terroir of whisky terrorise brandy as a symbol of a nation. The range of whiskies and spread is incredible, and it achieves the rare linking of the Highlands and Lowlands, and a much rarer link with the islands. I mapped the islands of Scotland by drinking the whiskies before ever visited the places, and some such as Highland Park are well kent, while their homes are still terra incognita. Islay seems to echo the spread of whiskies in Scotland with its difference in tastes crammed into a Scottish El Dorado.
Nothing could be the most Scottish thing if it did not show the Caledonian antisyzygy, the duality that haunts everything. Whisky is both an item of beauty, but the symbol of the weakness we have for alcohol. It’s far from the only drink that we use to kill ourselves but it alone is seen as an art as well, as something drunk in the grandest of circumstances with awe at its complexity, costing more than its weight is gold or oil at its zenith. Yet still, it is the drink that wee old men drank in pubs in their ‘a hauf an a hauf’s where the duality of Scotland in a drink order.
Culturally its reach is far wider than just the nights in the pub or the corridors of power. The antisyzygy in some of great works of Scottish literature, The Confessions of a Justified Sinner, and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which show the dangers of what happens when the other of us is let out by whatever means including the quaffing of a specific cordial, is that of our relationship with drink and behaviour. And just look at Tam O’Shanter with its drouthy neebours, the drunk man looking at the thistle by McDiarmid who outlined the idea of the duality, the joy and depression of Whisky Galore. Even the very price of the drink is memorialized in ‘Twelve an a tanner a bottle’ a complaint against the excise duty and the excise man who is the creature of the devil, and as in the song of my loved city, when I have those couple of drinks on a Saturday, Glasgow belongs to all of us but there is till the underthread of violence.
An objection to the embodiment of Scottishness by whisky is in so much of the above there is no mention of woman. The characters and singers are all men. When I tried to think of a well known woman whisky drinker, the only one that arose was Margaret Thatcher, whose relationship with the Scots is not the most positive, Yet behind that duality are the battered wives, and skelpt weans, and history and culture across most of the world are male dominated. It also allows me to flag the story in the link below for anyone who hasn’t seen it, of one woman’s role n spreading the brand of whisky to one of its most important markets.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-scotland-business-30682239
The original discussion that triggered this meandering had someone arguing for Gaelic as being the most Scottish thing. One friend was pointing out what to me is the undeniable fact that for most of us in Scotland, Gaelic is not much more than odd train signs, Amongst the very few words of Gaelic that people in most of Scotland might know is uisge beatha, the words for whisky, from which the word whisky derives. It takes Gaelic, and Scottish to the world, it sums up the light and darkness that is us. In that sense it is not just Scottish, it is a summary of humanity but then we are all Jock Tamson’s bairns.
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you see at the top of the post where it says 'read 14 times' , it's not true . it can only count how many times it was opened ,
However, I did read it . Please don't set me any more homework !!!!! ;D ;D ;D
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What about Irn Bru?
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Dere I say I prefer Irish whisky, it's generally a lot smoother, Glenfidic's not bad.
regards ippy
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Dere I say I prefer Irish whisky, it's generally a lot smoother, Glenfidic's not bad.
regards ippy
Should that not be whiskey?
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Whisky or whiskey are acceptable spelling.
Not sure about Japan.
I call it gut rot, upsets my stomach every time, even when I went through a phase, with friend. of having Irish coffee. Avoid like plague.
HoweverDere I say I prefer Irish whisky, it's generally a lot smoother, Glenfidic's not bad.
regards ippy
Has same effect on me, my husband often has gifts of same, Glenfiddich + Talisker Skye, Bel or Bal something or other & other stuff that comes in boxes.
However, maybe not relevant to this thread.
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What about Irn Bru?
That's what 'We even have another national drink, which has its own links to whisky with a fiery taste, and a vibrant version of the colour, the orange ginger of youth as opposed to the gentler russet of age' refers to.
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Dere I say I prefer Irish whisky, it's generally a lot smoother, Glenfidic's not bad.
regards ippy
Of course, I love a drop of Redbreast but Irish whiskey, is both not as interesting as the triple distallation reduces the terroir effect, and also another aspect of the cultural import of of drink on Celtic nations.
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you see at the top of the post where it says 'read 14 times' , it's not true . it can only count how many times it was opened ,
However, I did read it . Please don't set me any more homework !!!!! ;D ;D ;D
Compare a Glenkinchie, a Glenlivet, and a Laphroaig in that order for tonight's homework
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Single malt’s just about the only alcohol I drink these days. Talisker Skye is still my favourite.
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Compare a Glenkinchie, a Glenlivet, and a Laphroaig in that order for tonight's homework
I drained the last of my Laphroaig a couple of days ago and now own a whole square foot of Islay !!!
Mind you , I think I prefer a cheeky Glenhoddle if I'm honest .
this kind of homework is acceptable , it's all that reading that gets me steamin' ;)
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Laphroaig for me. I love the peaty taste of bonfires.
I went on a tour of the Glenmorangie distillery a few years back (I recommend it highly). It's a bit disappointing to find out that most of the taste comes from what the barrel was previously used for. The taste of whisky is technically the taste of dirty second hand sherry/port/brandy casks.
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Laphroaig for me. I love the peaty taste of bonfires.
I went on a tour of the Glenmorangie distillery a few years back (I recommend it highly). It's a bit disappointing to find out that most of the taste comes from what the barrel was previously used for. The taste of whisky is technically the taste of dirty second hand sherry/port/brandy casks.
Me too, my boy gave me a bottle for Christmas , which we celebrated on the weekend of 27 January in a rented cottage in the Yorkshire dales .
I once had a whisky which came from a barrel previously used for engine oil , it slipped down a treat .
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Laphroaig for me too.
Although not having that discerning a palate I am also fond of Bushmills from N.Ireland.
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Warning! Danger, Will Robinson! Danger, Will Robinson!
This is one of my long discursive posts. It was prompted by an exchange elsewhere about what the most Scottish thing about Scotland is. In the midst of yet another bout of insomnia, the question returned to me and an answer and a set of reasons that were a voicing of many of my tropes and obsessions emerged. And so you, if you choose, get to read what that was – but you are forewarned.
Growing up in the West of Scotland, I was often not entirely sure of my nationality. First there’s weirdness that is British, or as it should be UKish, something I’ve never felt despite it undoubtedly being my cultural reference. Then Scottish, which in part felt but it competed, due to family connections, and the savage influence of sectarianism, with Irish. My maternal grandparents had been born in Ireland, and with visits there on holiday at an early age, the LPs of Irish songs in the house (which were hidden away by my mother when the troubles began their bloody flowering), and the tricolour and Soldier’s Song at Parkhead when I started going to football matches, the emotional attachment grew.
Oddly enough any real belief in either of those bonds seemed to begin to fade when I gave up supporting Celtic to become more precisely local in my football support. Having watched the buses go to Ibrox one week, and then been in the buses to Parkhead the next, I found it suddenly strange that there was another local team that wasn’t supported. Once I started going to Morton, the lack of expectation, and the lack of constant rivalry, St, Mirren never really counts, the enjoyment of supporting a team and not hating another made a move to a less deep affection for nationality seemed natural. That was combined with a growing knowledge that the Irish/Scottish, Catholic/Protestant dualities were not really about separation but an emphasis on tiny imagined differences. My grandparents, though Irish, boasted incredibly Scottish names, at least one of which would be thought of as more likely Protestant, in Campbell and Forsyth. The names, witness to the intertwined, interbred, and even sometimes, despite the hatred, intermarried history of the two countries. None of that knowledge was derived from schools history, which other than the mirroring of Elizabeth the first of England, and Mary, Queen of Scots, and the following union of the crowns under James, was bereft of anything that was Scottish.
So when I considered the question, it was with an ambivalence that I don’t really care much for nationality. I can’t escape some of it and I feel deep unease that I still have that deep atavistic surge of pleasure when Scotland beats England at sport, even if it’s only rugby. And yet there was one thing that far and above anything else is Scottish about Scotland, and that is whisky.
It is above all our global brand, drunk widely and admired and imitated. It is known as Scotch, which even as the knee jerk objection to the term when it is used for people emphasises that brand and that linking. Alcohol is often a brand for other nations, vodka in spirits, French wine but nothing else has that link. We even have another national drink, which has its own links to whisky with a fiery taste, and a vibrant version of the colour, the orange ginger of youth as opposed to the gentler russet of age.
Even more than the global reach, it is also something that marks the geography of Scotland. The brandy of France does not show the link that its wine does, and the terroir of whisky terrorise brandy as a symbol of a nation. The range of whiskies and spread is incredible, and it achieves the rare linking of the Highlands and Lowlands, and a much rarer link with the islands. I mapped the islands of Scotland by drinking the whiskies before ever visited the places, and some such as Highland Park are well kent, while their homes are still terra incognita. Islay seems to echo the spread of whiskies in Scotland with its difference in tastes crammed into a Scottish El Dorado.
Nothing could be the most Scottish thing if it did not show the Caledonian antisyzygy, the duality that haunts everything. Whisky is both an item of beauty, but the symbol of the weakness we have for alcohol. It’s far from the only drink that we use to kill ourselves but it alone is seen as an art as well, as something drunk in the grandest of circumstances with awe at its complexity, costing more than its weight is gold or oil at its zenith. Yet still, it is the drink that wee old men drank in pubs in their ‘a hauf an a hauf’s where the duality of Scotland in a drink order.
Culturally its reach is far wider than just the nights in the pub or the corridors of power. The antisyzygy in some of great works of Scottish literature, The Confessions of a Justified Sinner, and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which show the dangers of what happens when the other of us is let out by whatever means including the quaffing of a specific cordial, is that of our relationship with drink and behaviour. And just look at Tam O’Shanter with its drouthy neebours, the drunk man looking at the thistle by McDiarmid who outlined the idea of the duality, the joy and depression of Whisky Galore. Even the very price of the drink is memorialized in ‘Twelve an a tanner a bottle’ a complaint against the excise duty and the excise man who is the creature of the devil, and as in the song of my loved city, when I have those couple of drinks on a Saturday, Glasgow belongs to all of us but there is till the underthread of violence.
An objection to the embodiment of Scottishness by whisky is in so much of the above there is no mention of woman. The characters and singers are all men. When I tried to think of a well known woman whisky drinker, the only one that arose was Margaret Thatcher, whose relationship with the Scots is not the most positive, Yet behind that duality are the battered wives, and skelpt weans, and history and culture across most of the world are male dominated. It also allows me to flag the story in the link below for anyone who hasn’t seen it, of one woman’s role n spreading the brand of whisky to one of its most important markets.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-scotland-business-30682239
The original discussion that triggered this meandering had someone arguing for Gaelic as being the most Scottish thing. One friend was pointing out what to me is the undeniable fact that for most of us in Scotland, Gaelic is not much more than odd train signs, Amongst the very few words of Gaelic that people in most of Scotland might know is uisge beatha, the words for whisky, from which the word whisky derives. It takes Gaelic, and Scottish to the world, it sums up the light and darkness that is us. In that sense it is not just Scottish, it is a summary of humanity but then we are all Jock Tamson’s bairns.
Warning! Danger, Will Robinson! Danger, Will Robinson!
This is one of my long discursive posts. It was prompted by an exchange elsewhere about what the most Scottish thing about Scotland is. In the midst of yet another bout of insomnia, the question returned to me and an answer and a set of reasons that were a voicing of many of my tropes and obsessions emerged. And so you, if you choose, get to read what that was – but you are forewarned.
Growing up in the West of Scotland, I was often not entirely sure of my nationality. First there’s weirdness that is British, or as it should be UKish, something I’ve never felt despite it undoubtedly being my cultural reference. Then Scottish, which in part felt but it competed, due to family connections, and the savage influence of sectarianism, with Irish. My maternal grandparents had been born in Ireland, and with visits there on holiday at an early age, the LPs of Irish songs in the house (which were hidden away by my mother when the troubles began their bloody flowering), and the tricolour and Soldier’s Song at Parkhead when I started going to football matches, the emotional attachment grew.
Oddly enough any real belief in either of those bonds seemed to begin to fade when I gave up supporting Celtic to become more precisely local in my football support. Having watched the buses go to Ibrox one week, and then been in the buses to Parkhead the next, I found it suddenly strange that there was another local team that wasn’t supported. Once I started going to Morton, the lack of expectation, and the lack of constant rivalry, St, Mirren never really counts, the enjoyment of supporting a team and not hating another made a move to a less deep affection for nationality seemed natural. That was combined with a growing knowledge that the Irish/Scottish, Catholic/Protestant dualities were not really about separation but an emphasis on tiny imagined differences. My grandparents, though Irish, boasted incredibly Scottish names, at least one of which would be thought of as more likely Protestant, in Campbell and Forsyth. The names, witness to the intertwined, interbred, and even sometimes, despite the hatred, intermarried history of the two countries. None of that knowledge was derived from schools history, which other than the mirroring of Elizabeth the first of England, and Mary, Queen of Scots, and the following union of the crowns under James, was bereft of anything that was Scottish.
So when I considered the question, it was with an ambivalence that I don’t really care much for nationality. I can’t escape some of it and I feel deep unease that I still have that deep atavistic surge of pleasure when Scotland beats England at sport, even if it’s only rugby. And yet there was one thing that far and above anything else is Scottish about Scotland, and that is whisky.
It is above all our global brand, drunk widely and admired and imitated. It is known as Scotch, which even as the knee jerk objection to the term when it is used for people emphasises that brand and that linking. Alcohol is often a brand for other nations, vodka in spirits, French wine but nothing else has that link. We even have another national drink, which has its own links to whisky with a fiery taste, and a vibrant version of the colour, the orange ginger of youth as opposed to the gentler russet of age.
Even more than the global reach, it is also something that marks the geography of Scotland. The brandy of France does not show the link that its wine does, and the terroir of whisky terrorise brandy as a symbol of a nation. The range of whiskies and spread is incredible, and it achieves the rare linking of the Highlands and Lowlands, and a much rarer link with the islands. I mapped the islands of Scotland by drinking the whiskies before ever visited the places, and some such as Highland Park are well kent, while their homes are still terra incognita. Islay seems to echo the spread of whiskies in Scotland with its difference in tastes crammed into a Scottish El Dorado.
Nothing could be the most Scottish thing if it did not show the Caledonian antisyzygy, the duality that haunts everything. Whisky is both an item of beauty, but the symbol of the weakness we have for alcohol. It’s far from the only drink that we use to kill ourselves but it alone is seen as an art as well, as something drunk in the grandest of circumstances with awe at its complexity, costing more than its weight is gold or oil at its zenith. Yet still, it is the drink that wee old men drank in pubs in their ‘a hauf an a hauf’s where the duality of Scotland in a drink order.
Culturally its reach is far wider than just the nights in the pub or the corridors of power. The antisyzygy in some of great works of Scottish literature, The Confessions of a Justified Sinner, and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which show the dangers of what happens when the other of us is let out by whatever means including the quaffing of a specific cordial, is that of our relationship with drink and behaviour. And just look at Tam O’Shanter with its drouthy neebours, the drunk man looking at the thistle by McDiarmid who outlined the idea of the duality, the joy and depression of Whisky Galore. Even the very price of the drink is memorialized in ‘Twelve an a tanner a bottle’ a complaint against the excise duty and the excise man who is the creature of the devil, and as in the song of my loved city, when I have those couple of drinks on a Saturday, Glasgow belongs to all of us but there is till the underthread of violence.
An objection to the embodiment of Scottishness by whisky is in so much of the above there is no mention of woman. The characters and singers are all men. When I tried to think of a well known woman whisky drinker, the only one that arose was Margaret Thatcher, whose relationship with the Scots is not the most positive, Yet behind that duality are the battered wives, and skelpt weans, and history and culture across most of the world are male dominated. It also allows me to flag the story in the link below for anyone who hasn’t seen it, of one woman’s role n spreading the brand of whisky to one of its most important markets.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-scotland-business-30682239
The original discussion that triggered this meandering had someone arguing for Gaelic as being the most Scottish thing. One friend was pointing out what to me is the undeniable fact that for most of us in Scotland, Gaelic is not much more than odd train signs, Amongst the very few words of Gaelic that people in most of Scotland might know is uisge beatha, the words for whisky, from which the word whisky derives. It takes Gaelic, and Scottish to the world, it sums up the light and darkness that is us. In that sense it is not just Scottish, it is a summary of humanity but then we are all Jock Tamson’s bairns.
Stuff senior fitba...
Auchinleck Talbot Rocks!
EEKA Peeka!
As for Whisky?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFX7z7Wf5xM
Here's tae us;
wha's like us?
Damn few
An they're a deid........
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What about Irn Bru?
What about Irn Bru? Don't ***** mention Irn Bru. They've changed the ***** formula.
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Dere I say I prefer Irish whisky, it's generally a lot smoother, Glenfidic's not bad.
regards ippy
Don't you mean Irish Whiskey - with an 'e' ?
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Whisky or whiskey are acceptable spelling. Not sure about Japan. I call it gut rot, upsets my stomach every time, even when I went through a phase, with friend. of having Irish coffee. Avoid like plague. However Has same effect on me, my husband often has gifts of same, Glenfiddich + Talisker Skye, Bel or Bal something or other & other stuff that comes in boxes. However, maybe not relevant to this thread.
Blasphemy.
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Single malt’s just about the only alcohol I drink these days. Talisker Skye is still my favourite.
Have you tried Talisker Storm?
Tasty!
I still prefer Lagavulin, though.
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Surely depends when you are drinking, why you are drinking and what you are telling people you are drinking for?
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Laphroaig for me. I love the peaty taste of bonfires. I went on a tour of the Glenmorangie distillery a few years back (I recommend it highly). It's a bit disappointing to find out that most of the taste comes from what the barrel was previously used for. The taste of whisky is technically the taste of dirty second hand sherry/port/brandy casks.
Have a go at the Laqphraoig quarter cask. You'll think you're in the heaven you don't believe in.
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Laphroaig for me too.
Although not having that discerning a palate I am also fond of Bushmills from N.Ireland.
If you ever visit the province, the Busmills distillery is a must see ...but try to go there AFTER you visit the Giants' causway.....
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The brandy of France does not show the link that its wine does,
I'm not sure that I can agree with this.
In the first place "brandy" is a term unknown in France - it is an anglicisation of a Dutch expression meaning "burnt wine". The French term is eau de vie.
In France there are two related but different drinks with names closely associated with the the land they come from. Eau de vie des Charentes is known the world over by the name of the town at the centre of its manufacture - Cognac.
The other drink is of Gascon origin - an area which is roughly the southern fringe of Lot-et-Garonne to the Pyrenees - is Armangnac.
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Don't you mean Irish Whiskey - with an 'e' ?
I'm probably one of the worst on this forum at spelling, I always have been unable to get spelling, I've pointed out many times here how bad my spelling is, sometimes when I'm not at my desktop PC and using my tablet without the spell checker I'm at a really bad disadvantage.
My spell check runs hot when I'm composing and very often I am unable to get anywhere near enough for the poor old checker to know what the hell I'm trying to find, thank goodness for google, I'm not short on knowing the words I need but spelling a lot of them, well?
Be surprised at how many posts I'm able to complete without mistakes of this kind.
By the way I spelled the whisky in the same way the author of the OP did, that has to be how I must have got it wrong, just forget my spelling it is at least understandable, it's my problem not yours and I can assure you I'm completely aware of how bad my spelling is.
Regards ippy
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I'm probably one of the worst on this forum at spelling, I always have been unable to get spelling, I've pointed out many times here how bad my spelling is, sometimes when I'm not at my desktop PC and using my tablet without the spell checker I'm at a really bad disadvantage.
My spell check runs hot when I'm composing and very often I am unable to get anywhere near enough for the poor old checker to know what the hell I'm trying to find, thank goodness for google, I'm not short on knowing the words I need but spelling a lot of them, well?
Be surprised at how many posts I'm able to complete without mistakes of this kind.
By the way I spelled the whisky in the same way the author of the OP did, that has to be how I must have got it wrong, just forget my spelling it is at least understandable, it's my problem not yours and I can assure you I'm completely aware of how bad my spelling is.
Regards ippy
ippy, old chap
don't beat yourself up mate .
Irish whiskey usually has an 'e' in it , Scottish whisky doesn't . don't know why!!!
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If you ever visit the province, the Busmills distillery is a must see ...but try to go there AFTER you visit the Giants' causway.....
I have been to both. And in the correct order!
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ippy, old chap
don't beat yourself up mate .
Irish whiskey usually has an 'e' in it , Scottish whisky doesn't . don't know why!!!
As do beverages originating in the USA.
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ippy, old chap
don't beat yourself up mate .
Irish whiskey usually has an 'e' in it , Scottish whisky doesn't . don't know why!!!
Can't say I feel beaten up, I just put up my hands and well if it's not liked that's for the others to worry about, not me, I shall be 76 shortly and my spelling has never improved since I can't remember, nor is that likely to change.
Regards ippy
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Dear Sane,
I read it, no I did, every word, not looked at your link yet, but I did read the whole OP, now what the hell are you havering oan aboot :o No don't tell me, I will read it again and try to work out what the hell you are trying to convey :P
Now did somebody mention Whisky ( aye that's whisky no e involved ) and did someone say they like Talisker >:( fire watter, from the first sip to the last, rough is the word I would use to describe yon concoction.
Now let me edjumacate yous uncultured lot about the water of life :P Glengoyne 17 year old, that's it, if you see a rare bottle of this nectar of the gods behind the bar of your local hostelry know you have found a little piece of heaven.
The first sip is sweet, not harsh or medicinal like those heavy peat concoctions, when I say sweet, I don't mean sweet sweet, more of a long aaaaahhh, like an epiphany, a knowing, but be verrry careful ( a Private Frazer very careful ) you can't just have the one, it is totally moreish, another benefit of this fine Malt, it will improve your IQ, I become highly intelligent after a dram or twa of this golden liquid. ::)
Whisper its name, Glengoyne 17 year old :-*
Gonnagle.
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If you're looking for something in the Glengoine mould - but a wee bit different - try a Balvenie 12 year old matured in rum casks. You won't be disappointed.
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If you're looking for something in the Glengoine mould - but a wee bit different - try a Balvenie 12 year old matured in rum casks. You won't be disappointed.
I'm impressed by the method some distillers in the US do it .
they produce the alcohol from corn ,watter it down as required then flavour it to make rum, gin ,vodka, whiskey or what ever you want . Simple .
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I'm impressed by the method some distillers in the US do it .
they produce the alcohol from corn ,watter it down as required then flavour it to make rum, gin ,vodka, whiskey or what ever you want . Simple .
Blasphemy.
Bring back burning at the stake.
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Blasphemy.
Bring back burning at the stake.
Anchs,
I bought a bottle 'rum' while I was in Florida and guess what? it works . Totally ratarsed after an hour , well that's what I was told.
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My husband is partial to a good quality single malt whisky, which I permit him once a week at lunchtime on a Sunday. He is on a lot of meds, so has to be extremely careful where alcohol is concerned. I like a drop of whisky too, but after the statins I was on didn't do my liver any favours, I settle for a small sherry three times a week.
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Permit him?
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Permit him?
I think what she means is that she has to make sure he doesn’t have too much alongside his medication. She’s his carer.
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Permit him?
YEP I AM THE BOSS! ;D ;D ;D
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I think what she means is that she has to make sure he doesn’t have too much alongside his medication. She’s his carer.
I sort of guessed that but I'm in a funny mood this morning.
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I sort of guessed that but I'm in a funny mood this morning.
Actually 'require' is probably the wrong word, my husband still likes to do his own thing even with half a working brain. He doesn't reckon he needs a carer, and most of the time he doesn't, but where his medical needs are concerned I do know better than him.
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Have a go at the Laqphraoig quarter cask. You'll think you're in the heaven you don't believe in.
I agree that the QC is good but if you like Laphroaig and are looking for something a bit special, the Laphroaig Lore is, to my taste anyway, well worth the extra money (and currently good value to Friends of Laphroaig on the website).
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Whisky or whiskey are acceptable spelling.
Not sure about Japan.
More precisely, it's "whisky" if it's made in Scotland or Canada (which took its whisky-making tradition from Scotland), and "whiskey" if it's from Ireland or the USA (which took its tradition from Ireland). The japs call it "whisky", because theirs is a conscious attempt to imitate Scotch. A small shot of Japanese whisky is a nip. (joke.) In Japanese it's ウィスキー
U~isukī according to Wikipedia. Note how the transliteration of the Japanese pronunciation inserts a u between the s and the k. It seems that Japanese doesn't use consonant-clusters, so when they borrow a word from a European language, they break them up with inserted vowels, e.g "kurejitu kado" - credit card. (I'm not an expert on Japan or Japanese - I just read that somewhere.)
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You are probably correct, Steve, the Japanese pronunciation of "taxi" is takushi. (One of the few things I learned when I was a gaijin.)
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If you're looking for something in the Glengoine mould - but a wee bit different - try a Balvenie 12 year old matured in rum casks. You won't be disappointed.
I was very disappointed when I tried it :o. Felt extremely ill. My husband is usually given one in a box at Christmas, & other types of whisky, from people with whom he does business. He quite likes it on occasion so I joined him and wished I hadn't, few years back.
Jim Beam, Talisker Skye, Glenfiddich, you name it. The lining of my stomach took days to recover and I only imbibed a wee drop. Mind you I am light weight when it comes to booze.