If whisky enthusiasts hate on NAS, caramel and grain, it’s only because they really love Scotch.
The manatee wasn’t expected. In fact, this was the first time, for me at least, that the two words ‘manatee’ and ‘whisky’ had appeared in the same sentence. But there it was – and it sure wasn’t going to leave without explanation.
We all have our first moment of whisky revelation tucked away somewhere. It’s the moment when whisky first leaps into your consciousness as being more than just a thing to be consumed, and becomes a compelling experience requiring close and dedicated attention – the ‘first kiss’ moment if you like.
My epiphany, which I’ve mentioned before, came with Talisker while driving (or rather, in a car with someone else driving) in the far north-west of Scotland en route to a ceilidh in Ullapool. The manatee was Pablo’s.
Manatee magic: Whisky epiphanies can come from the most unlikely of places (Photo: Keith Ramos)
‘I was working in an aquatic research centre in Mexico,’ he started. ‘One day we got a call from an aquarium in Japan. They told us that their manatee had died and wondered whether it would be possible for us to send them one.’
I reckon that this counts as a pretty unusual occurrence. I mean, to the best of my knowledge, there’s not a whole load of manatees out there just waiting for a new home.
‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘we found them one [quite how he didn’t say, but I’m sure it was above board] and worked out how to send it to Japan.’ I pictured in my mind a manatee sitting in JAL Business Class contentedly munching on seaweed and sipping Champagne (I’m not sure if manatees like Champagne, so apologies to any marine biologists out there).
Pablo was still speaking. ‘I had to go out separately to ensure that everything was ok. When I arrived, the head of the project gave me a bottle of Japanese whisky by way of thanks. I hadn’t really tried whisky. It changed me.’
‘But the manatee?’ I asked. He looked surprised, expecting me to me more interested in the whisky side of the tale. ‘I think it was ok,’ he said. Stupid me. I don’t suppose they have much time to send postcards, what with the endless Champagne and seaweed parties.
The evening had been filled with similar whisky epiphany chats: the thank-you gift, the dram bought by a parent or friend. The scales had fallen from our eyes in different ways, but the result was that we were all now in a similar place. The fact that you are (maybe) reading this, is evidence that this has happened to you at some stage.
It would be fascinating to discover what process causes these moments of revelation – what has to be in alignment for whisky to suddenly speak to you. Perhaps it’s the occasion, season, company, some mysterious manner in which the aromas and flavours resonate with your memories.
Revelatory dram: What creates those moments when whisky suddenly speaks to us?
It could be the moment when prejudice falls away, or that the vestigial hangover left from teenage over-indulgence finally lifts, or the culmination of a long period of laudable perseverance to try to find the right whisky for your palate.
Who knows? Maybe the god of whisky (or one of those lushes of angels who float around above distilleries) simply looks down and says: ‘Right. Now.’ (Out of interest, I wonder if anyone has any thoughts as to what ratio of angels there are to volume of whisky maturing on one site? Messages to my secretary, A Manatee, Okinawa, but don’t expect a quick reply.)
That thrill is what we need to retain and work on as our explorations of whisky continue and we are sucked down various rabbit holes concerning the intricacies of production or history.
That moment of clarity can be seen as an atavistic response to a situation – an unprompted, direct, intense reaction between you and the liquid. An emotional response such as this is not something which can be learned from books; there is no analysis of phenols at work here, no concerns over what the mashing temperature is, whether the wort is clear or cloudy, how long the ferment may be, and the flow rate of distillation. It is simply about what is in the glass at this moment and how it is speaking to us emotionally.
The geeky stuff may deepen our fascination with whisky, but it should never obscure the fact that this is a drink which we have now fallen in love with. If we are lucky, we then emerge from that rabbit hole of geekdom and obsession into a world remarkably similar to the one revealed to us at that first moment of clarity.
Us, liquid, glass. Don’t let your manatee swim away.
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