Speyside Here We Come!

Glenfiddich 21 year old Havana Reserve. A single Speyside malt scotch whisky given to me as a Christmas gift. It is one of my favorite whiskies…mind you I’m starting to realize I have a lot of favorites. It has a beautiful apricot colour, a toasty chocolate nose and a very smooth palette with hints of vanilla and coffee (according to those who describe whisky in this manner…I prefer “damn tasty”)! One of the major complaints that my non-whisky drinking acquaintances mention when asked if they enjoy whisky is that it is too harsh. The Havana reserve would be one of the whiskies I would give them to try to dispel that myth…if I was they type to be dead set on converting the nonbelievers or wasting good whisky on those with no appreciation…in each case the answer is no (I am of Scotch ancestry after all)!

As I sit enjoying this tipple I easily drift to a landscape where I imagine the tipped pagoda roofs stretched far as the eye can see, where the air smells of barley and oak and the water of life flows in the river Spey (sort of like the episode of The Simpsons where Homer is dancing through the land of chocolate…only everything is whisky related…ahhhh, what a beautiful place). Ordinarily I don’t imagine the landscape of origin when I enjoy a drink but I am forced to wonder due to a phone call I received about 3 weeks ago…

“You have a minute?” It was my Father. I was just getting out of the car, balancing an audio mixer and a small stack of cables while trying (unsuccessfully) to cradle my Blackberry between my neck and shoulder.
“I have about as much time as it will take to walk across this parking lot, I’m late for a press conference.”
“Good. Now; (Dad starts just about every important statement with “Now”) I need you to do me a favor…
“OK”
“…find me some accommodations in or near Dufftown.”
“Dufftown? You mean the Dufftown in Scotland?”
“That’s right.”
“Ok. So, when, for how long, how many people…maybe you can email this to me, I’m at the doors?”
“Spirt of Speyside Whisky Festival runs from May 1st to May 10th, so some time in there for 7 days.”
“Whisky festival, great, Mum is going to love that.”
“Your Mother isn’t going…Me, You and your Brother are…”
CRACK! The sound of cold cell phone plastic hitting ice always sounds so much worse than it really is. It’s actually quite remarkable how indestructible they are making cell phones these days.
“Dad! Hang on…I’ve dropped you…you still there?”

Ever since we returned from a trip to Scotland 16 months ago my father has been doing this. He’ll show me a website or a magazine advertising a whisky tour or festival. Being a sailor “Tour the Isles by Sailboat” was my personal favorite so far! I knew Dad would be going back to Scotland eventually but I didn’t realize it would be this soon…or that I would be going with him along with my brother (one of those “non-whisky drinkers” but one who is making a concerted effort to change all that).

So now I enjoy a dram of whisky crafted half a mile north of the very town I am going to be staying in and I drift a little…Speyside here I come!