…but Today, a Little Less or Thanks to Matchstick The Macallan is the Sweetest Revenge.

Second chances.

Allow me to tell you a quick story of love lost and re-found in 3 scenes.

Opening scene: mid-August 2008, Edinburgh Scotland.

Enter from stage left: Me.

Arrive at the bonny hills of Edinburgh after an incredible week in Glasgow with my lovely Glaswegian friend Marcello. The Glasgow School of Art and the Glasgow Four still running through my veins like a drug. Hungry for more adventure (and maybe some steak and ale pie….and oat cakes).

Met at the train station by life long friend, sometimes troublemaker (in the best sense of the word), and then-Canadian expat, Jenn. Together we’re unstoppable. Edinburgh Festival shenanigans are bound to ensue. Plans include a solo and LONG-AWAITED Scotch Whiskey Distillery tour. Could the world be any grander?

END SCENE

Calton Hill, in happier times

Jenn & I

Scene 2:

Time: Fast-forward through a glorious 3-day intermission of Scottish hi-jinks.  Have my game face on: time for the Scottish Parliament, Edinburgh Castle and The SCOTCH WHISKEY DISTILLERY TOUR before a very tired Pamela has to head home.

Scene: Edinburgh Castle, overlooking the empire.

Enter stealthily from stage right: BEE

DAMN YOU BEE!!! I demand repayment for the epi-pen.

Long story short(ish), I accidentally folded a bee in the crook of my arm that day. The ensuing swelling, pain, and feverishness put me in a Benedryl-induced coma for the better part of three days. My arm was completely mangled and left me confined to the city.  Alcohol was out of the question.

And that’s when I lost my love: I was leaving Scotland empty-handed. The Whiskey dream had died. END. SCENE.

Or so I thought.

Fast forward a year.

Time: Late October, 2009

Scene: One restaurant at the Hazelton Hotel

Enter from street: Me

Imagine my surprise when in October I received an invitation from Matchstick Inc. to join their The Macallan Scotch Whiskey blogger tasting event. First of all, with only ONE blog post to date (I’m not complaining….thanks Matchstick!) I didn’t seem like the most likely candidate and secondly, it seemed just as unlikely that almost a year after my bee-induced disappointment, fate would so freely gift me an experience I had crossed an Ocean to find AND HAD LOST.

AMAZING.

The Macallan.

What transpired over the next few hours was fascinating and, consequently, one of the neatest experiences I’ve ever had with alcohol (Feel the power of he pun. Feel it!).  Much akin to a wine tasting, I, along with a group of equally lucky Toronto bloggers, was lead through an educational taste journey by a lovely man named Marc.

To distill all the things I learned about whiskey from this absolute delight of a man would be extremely difficult (too busy writing puns, perhaps?) but some key elements are these:

• Like wine, the wood used in a whiskey’s casket greatly contributes to it’s flavour.
• Colour, if natural like it is in the Macallan, points to the wood used in aging and not age itself.
• All good things in life have great legs. (Yes, this applies to whiskey too.)
• Everything in life is better when it’s done with love (and an 100 year sustainability plan doesn’t hurt either.)

Over the course of the evening I happily tasted the 10 year, 12 year, 15 year, 18 year and 21 year-old varieties.  I was really shocked to see how different each year was – it’s an entirely different drink/experience with each vintage: smokey, spicy, fruity, you name it.

In the end, the 18 year old scotch was my favourite (“dried fruits and ginger”), very closely followed by the 10, on the rocks (“light, with hints of fruits and heather honey.”)  A brief look at my bank statement has informed me that I will only be buying the 10 year Scotch for special occasions but after I secure a new pair of winter boots, buy it I will.

Needless to say, I came out of the event with a new-found appreciation for a complex, smooth, and luxurious drink.  But what really opened my eyes about scotch appreciation is that water or no water, provenançe or not, the love of scotch should really only come down to only one thing: taste.  And I really like it.

Epilogue:

Scene: Living room of my new apartment

Time: Way past my bedtime, throat too scratchy to sleep. Reading Wikipedia to better inform my Macallan post.

When trying to ascertain where, exactly, Speyside, Scotland is located, I happily learn that the Macallan is actually one of the ingredients in the cheaper blended scotch I was going to try in Scotland.  And while there is nothing quite like a Scottish experience© I’m left feeling I got an amazing scotch upgrade, surrounded by great friends, all in the comfort of the Hazelton Hotel.

To you, my little bee friend, wherever you are : HA!

Many of you are getting ready to celebrate Thanksgiving with your friends and family. We are both doing just that on opposite sides of the coast, but this past weekend, we had the chance to eat a pre-Thanksgiving meal with friends here in Los Angeles. One of the things we had to do when we moved to Los Angeles was create a sense of family amongst friends. We’ve both spent different holidays away from our blood relatives, and it’s nice to know that there are people around to be with you when you can’t go home. Enjoy the holiday however you’re spending it. Whether you’re with friends, family or your pet Fido, make it a good one.

We’ll keep it short and sweet and just give you a look at a few of the dishes that graced our potluck table!  You will notice a definite lack of photos in this post. There was more…much more.  Perhaps you understand just how difficult it can be to remember to take pictures with 30 people swarming around, food coming out of the oven, wine being poured into your glass and dishes piled everywhere. In the middle of all of that chaos, the camera can easily be forgotten. Even if there are two of us. Shame! You may notice the use of several products and ingredients snagged during the Foodbuzz Blogger Festival. Score! We definitely have to thank many of our friends for bringing cheesey mac and cheese, broccoli rice, risotto, spinach, spinach and bacon mashed potatoes, seven layer salad, rolls, green bean casserole, cornbread dressing, sweet potato casserole…The list goes on.  Good thing we had a Thanksgiving a few days before the actual holiday.  There was a little time to recover before the big day.  Have yourselves a great one!

Cranberry Goat Cheese Spread – Serves 8 to 10
10 ounces goat cheese, room temperature
3 ounces dried cranberries, chopped
Zest of 1 orange, minced
2 ounces pistachios, toasted and crushed

1. Using an electric mixer, blend softened goat cheese, cranberries and orange zest until combined. Plop cheese onto a sheet of wax paper and shape into a log or a large ball. Chill for 1-2 hours or until firm again.

2. When the cheese has hardened, roll in pistachios to cover all sides. Chill until ready to serve.  (This could also be good rolled in the Oregon Dukkah Traditional dry dip from the Foodbuzz Tasting Pavillion!  It worked as a nice crunchy dip on the side.)

Marinated Olives – Serves 10 to 12
24 ounces pitted olives (create your own mix of size and color-kalamata, manzanilla, niçoise, etc.)
Juice and zest of 1 lemon
Juice and zest of 1 orange
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4 teaspoon Tabasco
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped
2 bay leaves

Mix all of the ingredients in a medium bowl, cover and chill for at least 3-4 hours or up to a week in advance. Bring to room temperature and remove bay leaves before serving.

Cranberry Sauce – Makes 4 cups
24 ounces fresh cranberries
1 3/4 cups water
Zest and juice of 1 orange
1/3 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup white sugar
1/3 cup maple syrup
1/8 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, minced
1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper

1. In a large sauce pan, heat the water, ginger, cayenne, salt, orange juice, zest, sugars and maple syrup to boiling.

2. Once the sugars have dissolved, add the cranberries. Bring back to a boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook for 10-15 minutes or until most of the berries have popped.

3. Remove from heat and set aside to cool. Sauce will thicken as it cools.

Citrus and Herb Roasted Chicken

Honey Balsamic Roasted Chicken with Carrots, Turnips and Brussels Sprouts – Serves 6 to 8
4 1/2 pound whole chicken
4 large sprigs fresh rosemary, destemmed and roughly chopped
10-12 sprigs fresh thyme
1/2 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
1/8 cup olive oil
8 cloves garlic, whole
1 cup balsamic vinegar (Made in Napa Valley’s Blackberry Balsamic Vinegar with Pear was perfect.)
1/4 cup honey
1-1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/2 pound baby carrots
1 pound brussels sprouts
3 medium turnips, peeled and cut into 8ths
Kosher salt
Black pepper

1. Remove chicken innards and rinse inside and outside of bird. Place in a deep baking dish or roasting pan.

2. Whisk butter with olive oil, balsamic, honey, rosemary, thyme sprigs until fully blended.

3. Season inside of the chicken with kosher salt. Rub 3/4 of the balsamic mixture over the chicken, covering him completely. Season liberally with salt and pepper.

4. Stick garlic, carrots, brussels sprouts and turnips around the chicken and pour remaining balsamic liquid over vegetables. Season with salt and pepper as desired.

5. Cover the chicken with foil and bake in a preheated oven at 425 degrees for 25-30 minutes.

6. Take chicken out of the oven, remove foil and pour in chicken broth. Mix broth with drippings in the pan and baste well. Put the chicken back in the oven, uncovered, and bake for another 25-30 minutes, basting frequently. If you have a meat thermometer, the thickest part of the chicken should register between 160 and 165 degrees.

Corn Pudding – Serves 16 to 18
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus more for pan
1 large brown onion, diced
56 ounces corn, fresh or frozen and thawed
1 tablespoon black pepper
1 1/2 tablespoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup sugar
1 box Jiffy mix
1 cup sour cream
5 eggs, slightly beaten
1 1/2 cups milk
2 cups Mexican cheese
10-12 fresh basil leaves, sliced
Olive oil

1. Rub a little extra butter over two 9″ x 13″ baking dishes. Set aside.

2. In a very large and deep skillet, melt butter with a swirl of olive oil. When hot, add the onions and cook until they begin to soften, approximately 2-3 minutes. Add corn and stir to combine well with onions. Season with the salt, pepper and cayenne.

3. Pour cream and sugar over corn and stir to mix. Cook corn down until all the cream is gone, approximately 15-20 minutes. Stir often. Remove corn from heat and set aside.

4. In a large bowl, mix Jiffy mix with sour cream, milk and eggs until combined. Stir in cheese and basil. Add corn to the wet ingredients and incorporate well.

5. Pour the mixture into the two baking dishes and smooth the top. Bake in a preheated oven at 375 degrees for 35-45 minutes or until the top has browned and the middle has firmed.

Mini Cheesecakes – Serves 36
Crust
1 cup graham cracker crumbs
2 tablespoons brown sugar
2 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom
1/8 teaspoon kosher salt

Cheesecake
12 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
1/3 cup sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
1 egg

1. For crust, mix graham cracker crumbs, sugar, spices, salt and butter until combined. Sprinkle about 1 teaspoon into the bottom of three mini muffin-lined tins. Press flat with your thumb to create an even layer. Bake crusts in a preheated oven at 375 degrees for 4-6 minutes or until the edges just begin to brown. (Cool for 5-7 minutes before adding the filling.)

2. While crusts bake, use an electric mixer beat the cream cheese, sugar, vanilla and egg until smooth. Spoon about 1 tablespoon of the cheesecake mix over the crust.

3. Bake in a preheated oven at 375 degrees for 15-20 minutes. Remove from the oven and cool completely, then move to the fridge to chill before serving.

Variations:
-Stir in 1/4 cup melted and cooled bittersweet chocolate chips for chocolate cheesecakes.
-Spoon about 1 teaspoon of cheesecake batter over the crust, followed by a teaspoon of caramel syrup, then another teaspoon of batter for caramel cheesecakes.
-Add the zest of 1 or 2 citrus fruits to the batter before pouring into the crust.

Almond Apple Crumble Pie (modified from Odense)- Serves 6 to 8
Filling
3 1/2 ounces almond paste
6 apples, peeled, cored and sliced (This was a mix of Gala, Fuji and Granny Smith apples.)
1/8 cup sugar
1/8 cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
Juice and zest of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon vanilla
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1/8 teaspoon kosher salt
2 tablespoons butter, chilled and grated
1 unbaked 9″ pie shell, chilled (Leftover pie dough in the freezer worked well here.)

Topping
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup rolled oats
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup slivered almonds, toasted
2 tablespoons wheat germ
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon ground cardamom
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, chilled and cubed

1. Roll almond paste out to a flat 10″ circle and press into the bottom and up the sides of the pie crust. Set in the fridge to keep cold.

2. In a medium sized bowl, toss the apples with the vanilla, lemon juice and zest. Pour sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, cornstarch and salt over the apples and toss to mix. Scrape into the chilled pie shell and sprinkle butter on top. Set back in the fridge.

3. Place all of the topping ingredients into a large food processor and pulse until the mixture becomes crumbly. Spread evenly over the pie.

4. Bake in a preheated oven at 375 degrees for 50-60 minutes or until the crust and topping has browned.

Sweet Potato Pecan Pie (adapted from Closet Cooking) – Serves 6 to 8
Filling
1 pie crust (or homemade pie dough)*
2 cups sweet potato, roasted, cooled and mashed
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/4 cup maple syrup
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
2 tablespoons whiskey

Topping
1 1/2 cups pecan halves
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup maple syrup
2 eggs, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons butter, melted
1 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon whiskey

1. Using an electric mixer, combine the sweet potatoes, eggs, sugar, maple syrup, vanilla, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and bourbon until smooth. Pour it into the pie crust, and sprinkle the pecans over the filling.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk the sugar, maple syrup, eggs, butter, vanilla, salt and bourbon and pour evenly over the pecans. Bake in a preheated oven at 375 degrees for about 40-60 minutes.

*It’s suggested that you use a deep dish pie crust or pie dish if you’re making your own crust. If not, there may be a little run over of the pecan topping, and of course you want to be sure to use it all!

Click HERE for printable recipes.

3. Add a layer of semi-sweet chocolate chips to the bottom of the pie shell.

4.  Pour the pie mixture over the chocolate chips.

5. Bake for 55 to 60 minutes, but take a look at the pie after 50 minutes.  If the top is starting to burn, take it out of the oven.

Serve with vanilla ice cream or whipped cream.

TIP: My dad says that the only problem with this pie recipe, is that nobody will ever think that you made enough!

B-man was coming to town the day that I was arriving home, but he and Josh were  playing at Webster hall the next day, so we decided we’d meet up before the show. I found him sitting with some newspapers all alone in the Thai place around the corner looking quite distinguished in a dress shirt, vest, and bow-tie. It was so good to see him. (but) Then Flower and their manager and a girl called Jessie who had been singing with them walked in. So since Flower and I have a 3 year past conversation got a little more performed. Which was unfortunate. I also wasn’t feeling too great. Thankfully Chris was at the show and we drank and watched together. Josh has a new half a side which is a lot more rock-y. I like it. Every time Brandon smiled I got so incredibly happy. I know that when musicians travel and perform a lot it gets tedious and even sour, so catching those smiles on someone like him really meant a lot to me. I was pretty tipsy by the end of the show. I caught some chats with Freddy and he seems so happy and in love with his lady. So wonderful. I originally was going to take Brandon to the winery so he can finally see it and we could finally drink some vino together. But there was an after party around the corner so the lot of us headed there. There was rain outside. Josh was outside against a railing and recognized us all from across the street which was a nice welcoming. I gave him Amber’s hug and took one for myself too. The inside was adorable but very full. Whiskey rounds started quick and went fast. Brandon and Chris are very close, and I think it’s great that B has such a good influence. They say I “get it.” I know what that means, and I agree. Zach was there with a girl called Georgie so there was a lot of joking about females with guy names. I blabbered to her a bit about modeling and her drink choices being influenced by it. I was seriously drunk at a certain point and hope I didn’t say anything offensive to anyone. But I do remember some kisses and standing out huddled under an awning protecting us from the rain.

I also remember one moment when Chris turned to me and said “Max this industry is calling your name, don’t you realize…” It was kind of an oddly distinct minute within a whirlwind of whiskey socializing. He has a point, and that point is what confuses me most in this existence.

“Are you kidding?” she asks, but doesn’t expect an answer. She’s leaning against the bar, her long arms draped over it, her fingers dipping in beer spills.

Wagner is silent. He isn’t kidding, clearly.

“She left, and she’s not coming back!” she exclaims.

Wagner nods. “I know. It’s too late.” He moves closer to me, in the middle. I move closer to her. She looks at herself in the mirror. We all look at ourselves in the big mirror behind the bar, continuing conversation through glass.

“What am I supposed to do?” Wagner asks.

“What are you supposed to do?” she repeats. She turns away from the mirror and at the crowd of men gathered to her right. “What is he supposed to do?”

The men perk up at the sight of a friendly, intoxicated blonde. “What is he supposed to do?”

The ringleader motions for the group to stand up. They circle us like vultures. I notice wedding bands. I sip my whiskey, neat, and shift away from Wagner, who is fingering his cellphone and staring at me in the mirror.

She sits up straight. “He dated this girl for years. And he’s here from Florida. And she left, she went back home, and he let her go.”

“Where’d she go?” asked one of the married men.

“Home,” she answers.

“The Lower East Side,” adds Wagner.

“Home,” she repeats. “But then she’s moving. This is it. She’s moving back to California.”

“Oh god,” moans Wagner, and I can’t tell if it’s the crowd, or the booze, or the thought of Los Angeles.

“Wagner! You’ve got to call her!”

The crowd of men agrees, sipping their beers and nodding enthusiastically.

“You’ve got to call her or else.”

“Or else what?” asks Wagner.

“Or else she’s gone. She’s practically gone already. This is it!”

The men offer suggestions, like witty text messages and come hither smiley face emoticons that would convince her via SMS to felate him. Wagner just fingers his cellphone, passing it from hand to hand, staring at himself in the mirror.

“You’re going to wait too long and that’s going to be it.”

“And then what?” asks a married man.

“And then your pussy has left New York.” She excuses herself to use the bathroom. The men slink away, back to their beers and conversations and boring, married lives.

Wagner looks at me in the mirror. I take his phone and text her for him. And then I go back to my whiskey, neat.

You know, friends — sometimes we just need a little “jump-start,” if you will, to enhance our lives by adopting healthy habits.  Take drinking, for example; you’d think it would come naturally to everyone, yet there are still some folks who don’t know how to do it.  They’d like to tie one on big-time, but they’re ashamed to ask for help.  Well, there’s a proven system that will get you boozin’ in no time flat.  Recommended for people all of all ages — from infants to the super-geriatric — “START DRINKIN’ NOW” can help YOU learn how to imbibe.  I know what you’re asking — will it work for me?  YES!  This fool-proof approach, developed by a world-famous M.D. in Ireland, has helped MILLIONS of alcohol-deprived people –  including countless Mormons and Moslems — to discover the wonderful world of drinking.  ISN’T IT TIME YOU JOINED THEM?

http://www.keef.org/drink/getdrunk/drink1.html

Well…sorry for not writing in firstly. Was busy figuring out how unprofessional our college could get…generous is the word actually…freely giving us holidays with a very loose hand. Anyways that’s not today’s topic! This article here speaks about my train journey back home, Goa that is! and these this two insane characters I came across with on my way back.
At 4.30 pm on Sunday, was my train which left from Pune to Madgaon. I got up in the train and sat in my reserved seat. right in front of me as in the seats just opposite me, there were these two Goan uncles, and believe me, i had no idea of what these uncles had planned to do in the night! (chill… they were straight) Well they were carrying two full bottles of whiskey apparently. but that was later.
Before that we started chatting up, and he asked me straight in konkani… “Tu Goencho?” as in are you from Goa? and definitely there was a positive reply from my side. So after that, we kept on chatting and suddenly it was time that they revealed their ‘prized possession’. the Bottles!! and they started drinking.
Now this paragraph is what happened when they were busy gulping in the holy water. I had my yum dinner of Biryani in the train. well you can’t really call it YUM! but it was tasty and quite eatable. Yeah so I had that, and saw a CSF jawaan fighting with the waiter over the number of chicken pieces in the Biryani.
Yeah now…after a while…these two peple come back…buzzed in the head..and just when I think that they will eat now, they get another bottle of whiskey n gulp it in…and now they are DRUNK!
I prepared myself for the utter konkani bad words and bulls**t that was about to reach my ears. and they started jabbering. An exclusive wll be written covering only that too…because it was too much!
But god was merciful and they slept soon.and I reached Goa. But the overall experience as Russell Peters calls it, was ‘Phuntashtick’ and now back to enjoying holidays…watching films! the IFFI is here too… so people, I may not write in for a few days, but when I am back, I will get you some fab reviews on some great movies…till then…ciao!

I’m not quite sure why I continue to watch Eggheads, I woke up this morning and instantly went to BBC iPlayer to watch it! Clearly there’s nothing I love more than watching Chris’ whispy hair blowing in the breeze, and CJ’s excellent camp knowledge on every tennis player known to man.  Although I would be fairlyhappy to have Daphne as my Gran, even though noone can replace Cool Gran, as she’d pass on all her knowledge to me and teach me how to shake my head and say “Sorry!” in a very patronizing manner   Of course that’s what I really want…bet she doesn’t give out whiskey at bedtime though, she looks like more of a port/rum kind of lady ;D

I’m sure I have better things to be doing with my morning than writing this, and listening to Dermot Murggagaggagahan wittering on and saying the same shit he says in every other Eggheads episode…..but I have been told to update it, by my lovely boyfriend Arran, who I so kindly described him as someone ‘even if you work lots, pout funny, and have amusing gegs ;D’ obviously I really know how to flatter a man….

stuff it, lets add later.  Dermot is distracting me with his lavvvly monotone voice! What the hell is the BOUNTY?!

Note to self and everyone around: Never watch Eggheads unless you want to feel stupid

Now when Cuppy and I did this freelance gig down in Richmond, Virginia, the agency put us up in an old Victorian estate with a beautiful wrap-around porch in front.(1) The estate belonged to the agency’s ECD(2) and Cuppy and I spent eight glorious months taking full advantage of supping and drinking on that porch as often as possible.

Cuppy’s grandpa lived in Old Gun, VA and more often than not, we’d find him luxuriating on our porch – even on times when Cuppy and I were not home. He’d be smoking, drinking whiskey and even though Cuppy made him an ashtray at a Color Me Mine(3), he insisted on extinguishing his butts directly on the porch’s wavy grained cedar planks. Around the rocking chair he claimed as his own, it looked like someone had neglected to connect-the-dots.

Now to call Cuppy’s grandpa a character would be an insult to people with even the slightest inclination towards restraint and decorum. But you gotta take Grandpa TC for what he is – and that man is one ornery tin cup.

Grandpa TC, “What on God’s green earth is a ‘friend with benefits’ Cuppy? Isn’t that what you call your Cousin Ashlee? “

Cuppy, “What? No! Cousin Ashlee is my cousin. Vomit. But anyway, it’s kinda like dating a girl, but without all the bad stuff that comes with attached to that whole deal. Basically, you get to leave whenever you want, do whatever you want to whomever you want and if she ever asks you if she looks fat in her jeans you can say yes without hesitation.”

“Oh. Well we had that when I was in high school. It was called ‘HAVING A FUCKING GIRLFRIEND.’ You’d kiss girl in homeroom and by the time third period rolled around she’d have all her shit moved into your locker. When you’d walk down to lunch she’d wear your varsity jacket and all your friends would laugh and throw rocks at you. It was fucking horrible. You kids have it so easy now. Running wild and free with your STDs and what not. Back then you’d get stuck with ONE girl. And that was it. No options. No choices. No searching your little girl feelings to see if you two were meant to be. ‘Meant to be’ back then meant she was the girl that lived closest to where you lived. Shit, how do you think I ended up your Grandmother? Friends with benefits – bullshit. You should be thankful girls even look at your ugly mug.”

“Wow Grandpa. That’s the most romantic and tender love story I’ve ever heard. It’s like ‘The Notebook,’ if all the characters were drunk and angry the entire time.”

“Son, you do know you’re the reason your Father left your Mother, right?”

“Thanks Grandpa.”

And that’s basically what Grandpa TC was like – when he was mostly sober.

—

1 That porch could  have easily held five Mini Coopers.

2 When we moved in the estate was vacant as it was tied up in the ECD’s bitter divorce settlement to his then 3rd wife/ex-mistress/babysitter/skank du jour.

3 Now I’ve never been to a Color Me Mine, but I’d love to buy a beer for any guy ballsy/dumb enough to think that would be a great first date.

ryan

Ryan: 32. So it begins.

rena

Rena: Last Bus

Leave a Tender Moment – Alone

She is uncertain of where the truth lies;
in fields beneath the stars, curled in a bed
one once shared by two lovers now strangers?
They both ask the sky, search constellations,
for an answer, knowing it rests within.

The leap to silence happened in small steps:
whispers in the dark after making love
whiskey and wine marinated passion
subtle words meant to slash at confidence
wishes falling on deaf ears – his and hers.

She re-reads the words poured out on paper
over years, searches them looking for truth.
Fourteen lines of love, desire, and life
reveal the pain building inside them both.

Siobhan
11-22-09

Whisky to have more protection from cheap imitations

By Cara Sulieman

NEW regulations come in to force tomorrow (Mon) to protect the reputation of Scottish whisky.

In an attempt to stop cheap imitations from tricking people into buying what they think is the real McCoy, rules on labelling have been stepped up.

Only whisky that has been bottled in Scotland will be allowed to carry the phrase “Scotch whisky” and it must be clear whether the water of life is a single malt or blend.

And a distillery name can only be used if the whisky was distilled there.

“Iconic”

They have been developed by a partnership between the Department of Environment, Food and Rural Affairs and the Scotch Whisky Association.

The move has been welcomed by Scottish ministers, who say it provides much needed protection for the Scottish whisky industry.

Jim Mather, Enterprise minister said: “Scotch Whisky is a truly iconic Scottish product. It makes a huge contribution to our economy and promotes the brand of ‘Scotland’ across the world.

“It is vital to protect the good name of Scotch from inferior imitations, and that is why the Scottish Government has contributed to the development of the new regulations, which do just that.

“The Regulations will make it clear exactly what is in the bottle, where and how it was distilled and will require Single Malt to be bottled in Scotland.

“Economic boost”

“We will work with our enterprise agencies – in particular Scottish Development International (SDI) – to promote the Regulations throughout the world in order to further strengthen the protection of Scotch Whisky in overseas markets.

“This should help maximise the massive economic potential of the industry, safeguarding jobs and investment in Scotland.”

Richard Lochhead, Cabinet Secretary for Rural Affairs and Environment, said: “Scotch whisky is rightly celebrated around the world.

“It is one of our most successful and iconic exports and these regulations will further strengthen its reputation and deliver a further boost to our whisky sector.”

See more of our pictures at our Flickr site and videos at our dedicated channel,  Deadline TV.

The first story I wrote about sex was about this devastated guy who appears in a pub and asks for a whiskey. He looks so sad that the waiter feels curious about his state and tries to get the story of his sadness.

The pub was empty, so the guy felt a sort of space of intimacy and begins to explain to the waiter, (and also owner) how he was a normal person until he found a place in a park where strange little tiny creatures had sex in front of him. The story was written in Spanish, and I’m not sure I can translate all the details, but the point is that describing all those strange little tiny creatures having sex in front of him the devastated guy had the biggest orgasm that the waiter saw in ages. Absolutely astonishing. Pure show.

The waiter & also owner of the pub looked at the empty corners of his business and had a quick thought.

- “Hey” – he said to the guy – “That’s a really amazing story. I really understand how you must be feeling. Feel free to come whenever you want, you have a friend in me… & free whiskey.”

So he made sure that the guy was to come the following day & told to the lads that he had some good & unexpected entertainment in the pub. And sure it was: some few men felt the bite of curiosity and made it the following nite. And the guy was also there, invited by the free shots of whiskey. The waiter asked him again to explain to his friends why he was sad, and the guy began the description, and after the amazing description he had the wildest public orgasm ever. And even if guys are not usually fond of enjoying lads’ orgasms, that was so beast that it really made a show. And thus this story had a happy ending: the guy became a normal person making his living telling extravagant stories about strange tiny little creatures having sex in a park in front of him, and the pub was not empty anymore.

This story was just one of a little book I wrote called “Creatures of Blue Sex”. I destroyed the writings because in 1989, Madrid, Spain, I thought that that was not writing to be considered. I don’t regret it, even if I can’t remember the other stories.

I have new ones. We’ll make new ones to fill all the empty corners of our imagination.

Bringing back the Pillbox cap in 2009, New Era Japan welcome a new addition to its roster with a special collaboration piece alongside fellow Japanese company Liquor, woman&tears, one of the markets top retailers. The cap features a two-tone colorway with an “L” insignia and Navy Blue piping/bill amongst a White base. Available now through New Era Japan.

Thanks New Era Japan for finally releasing a style such as the old school Pittsburgh Pirates Pillbox Hat!!!! Thanks for opening the doors for us to actually shit on this simplistic design and color way….Game On as we would say!

Ich bin in einer Bundesliga-Tippgemeinschaft und heute habe ich meine Tipps abgegeben. Dieses Wochenende finde ich schwer. So ein Spiel Schalke gegen Hannover hat eine andere Bedeutung bekommen. Wie tippt man hier?

Eigentlich ganz klar Sieg Schalke. Jetzt: Gibt es einen Enke Effekt? Spielen die für den? Kuranyi war mit Enke befreundet. Schiesst der vor Trauer doch nicht sein 100. Tor? Wat is mit dem neuen Keeper von 96? 23 soll der sein. Wächst der über sich hinaus? Hält der dem Druck nicht stand? Gewinnt 96 werden wir Montag lesen: Sie spielten für Enke im Himmel. Verliert 96 werden wir Montag lesen: Der Druck war für das Team zu stark. Jetzt hoffe ich auf unentschieden. Dann hat 96 die Möglichkeit zum normalen Neuanfang ohne Euphorie in der Normalität. Das Team ist an sich nicht stark genug für die oberen 5 Plätze.

Heute machen wir Whisky Tasting. Mein Präsi tippt ja auch mit. Hatte letzte Woche nur einen Punkt. Also wenn der FC schlecht spielt, dann tippt der Präsi trotzdem auf den FC. Außer letzte Woche. Da war der soooo sauer auf die, dass der 4:0 gegen den FC getippt hat. Aber man sieht an den Bayern: Erfolg kann man nicht kaufen und den Underdogs gehört die Sympathie – siehe Mainz.

Heute muss ich kein Bus mehr fahren. Aber am Montag bin ich wieder unterwegs.

Schönes Wochenende. Rev. Danny

Stunned into a state of shock such as they’d never before experienced, the men turned around and headed for fresh, clean air. With puzzled faces and mixed emotions, the posse proceeded to clear the area. Each and every man had their own set of questions. These questions pertained to meaning, intent, and purpose. Most of the men perceived the whole otherworldly ceremony as a sick, gross joke. The bastard had lost his mind and gone berserk. Simple as that. Nothing more needed to be said. He was a menace to society, and beyond help. It was their job to catch the murderer. He must pay for his crimes, and he would pay with his life. The penalty was death. There could be no compromise. Sure they had misgivings, but that bloody, crazy act did not increase their fears of going after this man, and carrying out their duty. Curses and spells and such belonged in fairy tales. They had no place in the minds of grown men.

Mark, the youngest of the bunch, was raised to believe differently from these men, although he wished he would soon ‘grow out of it’. He was old-fashioned. He had yet to shake off the aftereffects of his upbringing, which included all that ‘mumbo jumbo’ in The Bible that he used to believe wholeheartedly. For the most part, he denied the fact that he still retained a part of that imaginative belief system. Yes, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault, nor was it something he willfully chose to put his faith in, nevertheless, he berated and condemned himself for ever having believed it in the first place. Concerning these matters, Mark wasn’t about to fess up to his brethren. No, not hardly.

Because of Mark’s long-held beliefs, and because of what he had just seen back there, he was inclined to view the murderer as an evil villain, not as someone who was insane. He saw him as a purpose-driven man who knew exactly what he was doing. Mark’s question as he exited the cave came down to this: Was it really possible for a man to be possessed by evil spirits? He’d never before come into contact, or personally confronted a man who’d been labeled as such, so he didn’t really know if he believed it, or not. He couldn’t rule it out, and this troubled him greatly. Mark left the question open, and since he had done that, he alone out of the group was leery of the pursuit. Mark thought himself a man, and he was ‘toughing it out’. He kept his fears tucked away, and hidden from his cohorts. Mark admired the way Sam took charge. In the past, when he himself had tried to ‘talk tough’, no one took him seriously, so he doubted his own meritorious valor. Some young men believe they have to prove themselves. Mark had more to prove than all the others. So as soon as they were out of that hellhole, Mark volunteered himself to be the man who would make his way to the top. “Okay, kid.” Sam relented. “Just be careful. Here, take this lantern, but don’t drop it. It’s breakable.” Mark was more than thrilled, and he took the slippery slope to task.

In a silent procession, Sam led the rest of his men back down to planet Earth. The rain on the ground had now turned to slush. The footing was pretty slick, and it was still sprinkling a bit, but they managed alright, as did Mark. By the time they’d reached their horses, Mark had already found the murderer’s muddy tracks. He crept towards the precipice and shouted, “He was here! He headed east!” Sam yelled back, “Okay! Now get on down here!” It was going on about ten o’clock by that time. Sam walked to his horse, and opened up the saddlebag once again, pulling out more deer jerky. It would give him strength, or so he concluded. He passed it around to his men, and put some aside for Mark. Then he went back to his saddle, and broke out a bottle of whiskey. “Something to calm my nerves would be good right now.” That was one of his reasons for bringing it. Those men were part and parcel for his other reason. “A little ‘courage in a bottle’ won’t do them any harm, and it’ll help them get up the gumption for the chase.” Sam had himself a couple of swigs and passed it around. About that time, Mark showed up happier than hell to have accomplished his daring feat, and Sam said nothing. Sam already knew Mark didn’t drink the stuff, so he went back and grabbed his canteen of water. He handed it to Mark, along with his share of jerky, and took the lantern from his hand. Then Sam addressed the whole gang, “What do you say boys? Are you ready for this?” Cries rang out all at once. “Hell, yes!” “You bet we are!” “Damn right!” Mark swallowed real quick and joined in late, “Let’s go get that sonuvabitch!” That’s exactly what Sam wanted to hear.

“Mount up, men! If I remember correctly, just around the bend of the river there’s a place where we can get up to the top of the cliff, so follow me, and let’s ride!” Now hanging from their saddles, and from their horse’s manes were icicles just beginning to find their form. The horses also seemed ready to vacate the place, and happily obliged the call to giddy-up and go.

Sam’s memory served them well, and they did find their way to higher ground. The murderer’s embedded prints were found, and they followed his muddy tracks along the trail less traveled. Sam felt like death warmed over, even though he was colder than hell. After a short jaunt, he took to an easier pace. He wasn’t in that big of a hurry, because he was still of a mind to call off the chase once they’d reached the road that would take them back to the river, and from there to Bedlam and beyond. “That man has surely headed off to Mexico, if he has any sense left at all,” Sam figured, and he wasn’t ready, willing, nor able to pursue the criminal to God knows where. He didn’t believe these cowboys would mind, nor would they scoff at his preordained decision. Sam thought they were mostly in it for the money, and mostly he was correct in that assumption. I say mostly because…Mark still had something to prove. He was more than willing and ready to go to the ends of the earth, if only Sam were to ask that of him.

One totally miserable half-hour later, the posse arrived at the main road, and found themselves in the grips of indecision. The murderer’s tracks not only went south, but they were going to the north as well. It looked as if that vicious killer couldn’t make up his mind, either. The men had never actually seen Sam confused up until that moment. He loudly threw his question up for grabs, “Why in the hell did he hesitate?” Without waiting for an answer, he rode south a little ways. “They stop right here.” Mark turned his horse and walked to the north for about 20 yards. “They stop here, too. Hold on a second!” Mark took a closer look, and walked to the side of the road. “He got off here and went that way,” he said as he pointed in an easterly direction. “Let me see how far these go.” Mark followed the tracks for just a short ways, turned to the left and went another 20 yards before seeing, and thus realizing, the man’s directed intentions. “Oh, my God! Sam! He’s headed north, back towards town!”

Steve Jobs occasionally swats flies himself.

I generally try to keep my electronics away from the reach of liquids, but Malcolm Fontier, the brand behind a new product named iMojito doesn’t seem so concerned. The new leather wallet doubles as an iPod/iPhone case. I don’t see the connection to the Cuban cocktail…unless you decide to use the extra pockets to hold your mint, sugar, and lime?

AdAge reports that the marketing waters of Twitter remain murky for many leading brands. Many of the Twitter accounts that include the names of multinational corporations, among them Burger King, Bank of America and Comcast, are not owned by the companies themselves, but by unaffiliated squatters. Meanwhile, 76% of the brand names that do own their own accounts tweet infrequently.

The recent discovery of a crate of one hundred year old whiskey frozen in Antarctic ice has created quite the brand buzz for the drinks group Whyte and MacKay. If only all brands could age as gracefully as whiskey…

The Roaring 20s…The Swingin’ 60s…As the year comes to a close, The New York Times asks us what should we name our most recently lived decade?

Apple recently sent a legal notice to The Little App Factory to change the name of its popular tool iPodRip, which facilitates the copy and transfer of songs from an iPod or iPhone to a computer. The Little App Factory CEO pleaded with Steve Jobs via email, and Jobs replied from his iPhone, “Change your apps name. Not that big of a deal.”

It’s the weekend (well almost) and we want to know what everyone’s going to be having.  For myself, I have to find the perfect complement to salty tears and the bitter taste of defeat.  You see, my Jets are playing the Patriots on Sunday, and I think they’re going to get mauled.  Sure they beat them in Week 2, but Brady played afraid (worried about his knee) and Moss was nursing a sore back.  That’s all been sorted out, the Pats are pissed, and they are playing in Foxboro.  My Jets are going down in flames.  Perhaps a Storm King will help me weather the um, storm, or maybe I’ll embrace the bitterness with an Alpha Dog IPA.  Or maybe it’s time for me to switch to Whiskey.

How about you?  Do you having any plans that involve enjoying some great beer or special whiskey? Enjoying a Blue Moon (blech) before watching New Moon?  Anyone brewing this weekend?  Better yet, anyone drinking their own?

Please let us know in the comments below.  And go Jets.  Hopefully not straight to 4-6.  Oof, it’s hard being a fan sometimes…

I have far too much to do today to write a blog. But, I have left you high and dry too many time my friends, so I shall power through (while watching the hotness that is the Mentalist)!

First, a Rant:

I’d like to point out that scotch is not my favorite whiskey. And there was a multitude of bourbon I was unable to taste as My Man obsessed over scotch. I probably have tasted more scotch in one night then in the rest of my life.

So, get ready Highland Park!

Very peaty and tons of smoke with sour lemonade flavors. An okay scotch, but really not my style. My Man wants it to be known that he HIGHLY disagrees. This was his favorite of the night. So go through these two posts and see who you agree with on ratings and follow them a bit more.

From here we moved on to a very different spirit. Root, the liquor that wants to taste like old school sarsaparilla. My mother, being southern, got me hooked on sarsaparilla at a young age (how is sarsaparilla used enough in common vocabulary to be in the spell check?). I wouldn’t say that Root tastes like sarsaparilla; it is far more interesting. Ginger beer is more accurate with cloves and cinnamon. With nothing to compare it to, I think it was still quite good. A definite must try for anyone interested in new types of spirits.

It seems that, throughout the night, we came to the more high end scotches. On My Man’s request, I tried two Balvenies, for some reason. The 15 year was sweeter then many, smooth and tasted like campfire. I was not quite as impressed. The 12 year was less impressive. Again, smoky and sweet, but shier, harder to smell. When drinking, however, it tasted harsh and basically like a s’more. While I am never one to say no to a good s’more, the harsh alcohol was too overwhelming.

Buffalo Trace makes an array of bourbon. As a small sample, I tried he George T Stagg. Tasting of maple syrup and mint and rye, it was a bit bitter but very intense. My Man’s second favorite, I thought it was good.

Lets be honest, having tried 15 different spirits, my already horrible handwriting becomes a bit unclear. I have very clear ratings, but not so clear descriptions. Please bear with me.

Mutineer Magazine recently rated Red Stag, a new bourbon from Jim Beam infused with natural black cherry flavor. Touted as a great bourbon for those who don’t like bourbon, My Man called it a good girls bourbon. Being a girl who likes girly things, I was excited to try it. Tinged a bit red, the bourbon mostly tasted like, well, cherry Jolly Ranchers but without the tart kick. My Man mentioned that perhaps this is what they were going for, but I’d like more then a hint of bourbon in my bourbon. I think it could be delicious without being overpoweringly sweet. But, those who enjoy candy drinks, this one’s for you!

Back to the more serious drinks. When walking up to Laphroaig, I asked the man in the dashing kilt which I should try. He offered peaty or sweet and I felt I should continue with the sweet. The Quarter Cask was offered. It was smokey without being overly peaty, sweet and yeasty. I happen to love yeast and found the classic Laphroaig to be right up my ally.

Here are where things get more or less useless on my part. I have some notes and do recognize I loved the Basil Hayden (subtly smokey, sweet and wheaty) and enjoyed the Baker’s bourbon (sweeter, fruity and smokey). Both classics, but I wouldn’t base future purchases or even judgements on my taste based on these.

All round, I’ve written about 19. So close to the goal! Overall, a fun event where you can compare your tastes throughout a bunch of different spirits and expand your palate dramatically.

Highland Park Single Malt Scotch Whiskey 18 yr

Price: $99.99

Me: A  My Man: C+

Root

Price: $32.99

Me: B/B+  My Man: B

Balvenie 15 yr Single Malt Scotch Whiskey

Price: $53.99

Me: B-  My Man: C+

Balvenie 12 yr Single Malt Scotch Whiskey

Price: $46.99

Me: C   My Man: C

George T. Stagg Bourbon Whiskey

Price: $51.79

Me: A  My Man: B

Red Stag Bourbon Whiskey

Price: $17.99

Me: B-  My Man: C+

Laphroaig Quarter Cask Scotch Whiskey

Price: $48.99

Me: B+  My Man: B+

Baker’s Bourbon Whiskey

Price: $42.99

Me: B  My Man: B

Basil Hayden Bourbon Whiskey

Price: $36.99

Me: B  My Man: A

On Dec 4th, Dry Fly Distilling will be releasing their second release of washington wheat whiskey. Bellingham’s location to pick up a bottle is the new holiday location at Bellis Fair Mall. Store opens at 10:00am. See dryflydistilling/blog for more locations.

We chose to not do Cigar Sunday tonight which gives me the opportunity to write about this classic tradition. Started last fall when I was a freshman by my roomate and I in Broward, Cigar Sunday consists of going to Modern Age, buying and smoking a nice cigar, followed by watching a gangster movie.

This tradition has continued on to my current roomate and I and it is still triumphant. We grab two stools from our apartment then go outside to light up. While smoking our delicious cigars we usually sip on whiskey or beer as we relate to each other stories from the weekend. Since we buy big cigars we usually have about an hour to relate all the awesome things that happened to us. And just think about it; whiskey, cigars, bar stools and storytelling? All of these components combined are great American traditions. We try to sample a wide variety of cigars by buying a different kind each week. In doing this we will expand our palate and maybe even one day become cigar afficionados. We have been debating about making it Cigar & Scotch Sunday, but don’t know any good types of Scotch to buy. All in good time.

After this we go back inside and select a bad ass gangster movie to watch. Good choices include The Godfather, Scarface, Blow, Goodfellas, American Gangster and The Departed. This then turns into a drinking game where we drink whenever someone has a cigar and whenever someone is killed. Because of this, Sunday can be called one of my favorite nights of the week due to its classic, sophisticated and relaxing nature.

- Jack