Single Malt Scotch Whisky

Distilled at Glenrothes ~ Glenlivet Distillery

Aged 22 Years

When faced with a whisky menu spanning Islay to Yamazaki promising prize winning Single Malts from around the world, it would have taken nothing less than unabashed flattery paired with expert descriptions with personal anecdotes peppered throughout - along with a tasting, or two - from the king of the proverbial castle to turn us towards a blend. Lucky for us the mixology mastermind behind The Parasol & Swing Company, Adam Neal, saw our furrowed brows from across the patio and strolled right over.

The funny thing about accents is the rule of extremeness very much applies. For example: my brother, Connor, towering well above the vast majority of humanity at 6 foot 5 inches rarely identifies another human being as tall, even if they are a bipedal giraffe, in their own right. If you are on the extreme, it’s hard to recognize another like you when they are only slightly less obviously so. That being said, I recognized Adam as Scottish immediately - because unfortunately, I have the same accent as my education; very, very, American indeed - my Glaswegian father on the other hand, heard his modern muddled domesticated brogue as something else entirely. We disagreed, therefore we made a bet on who was right. I breathe, therefore I compete. [If you take away nothing else from these ramblings I urge you to take away this: I was right, my father was wrong].

To my parent’s delight, Adam’s accent quickly puffed up its chest and before long these strangers began to mark the intersections and landmarks of their shared heritage, over whisky, of course. Adam excused himself and retreated to the bar he eventually mentioned was his, and brought back with him four glorious bottles: Ardbeg Uigeadail, Longrow Peated, Cadenhead’s Dailuaine-Glenlivet, and our hero, Cadenhead’s Glenrothes - Glenlivet. After much deliberation, swigging and sipping, and with some gentle pressure from our fearless leader, we proposed, strolled down the aisle and out the church with a 22 year-old amber hued, oak aged beauty distilled in ‘96 - a full year after yours truly was welcomed into that quiet cul de sac in Leuven.

First, we took this spirit on the nose. I learned much later that the blenders describe the experience reminiscent of toffee, hot cross buns and cassia bark, as slightly herbal with hints of linseed oil. I’m in no place to disagree, but at the time my palette was influenced by one of The Company’s glorious cocktails, and I distinctly recall aromas of stone fruit and agave, but richer somehow - as if the above were left in a bowl out in the sun. I immediately perked up and a smile naturally crept across my face in anticipation of the sensation to come.

Adam told us the journey of his miraculous migration across the world - I mean miraculous in the ways that any natural and instinctive animal is miraculous, that through trial and tribulation and seemingly random intersections of flight and gut feelings, the thing ends up exactly where it’s supposed to be. In a long time I haven’t seen a human being relax so completely into their surroundings, Adam fit within the parameters of his bar that ways that people pine for - he was cool and knowledgeable without being pretentious, kind and sincere without putting any effort in at all - I don’t know him well, but from my side of the glass he seemed to vibrate at the perfect frequency, the space around him set to the same tune. Obviously there was rigor and doubt and stress and work, work, work - I know this because he told us - but none of that showed up. It was miraculous, and I very much hope that Adam opens another bar in whatever city I happen to be occupying at the time of its launch.

I’m sure it goes without saying, but Cadenhead’s Glenrothes - Glenlivet whisky aged 22 years tasted good. Very good. I wish I was skilled enough to pick out the white chocolate covered raisins, black cherries and golden syrup along with barbeque sauce and pineapple (as described on the blenders website), but to tell the truth I wasn’t paying any attention to the nuances, we were too busy shooting the shite. On the contrary to what you think, I reminisce and think this a very good thing. All of us whisky lovers, and not one of us could tear ourselves away from our conversation to discuss the amber liquid. We didn’t check our phones either, I don’t even remember thinking to look for a wifi code. I checked when I returned to San Francisco, and the bottles are all sold out - so maybe I missed my only opportunity to fully experience and dissect this whisky. I do know it finished warmly, like a long chat with an old friend - or a new one.

I think this blend will always taste of Auckland, and that serendipitous Scottish seance where we attempted to conjure up the best of the land from which we came, in a land that so strangely resembles home somehow (albeit sunnier, and with weaker accents).