And an amusing Audi commercial with the original Spock and the new one:

Will My Neighbour’s Honey Bees Sting My Kids? provides good advice about the chances of getting stung and how to avoid it.

I got stung once.  When I was 5 or so I smashed a rock on a bee that was on a clover flower. I picked the rock up and the half-dead bee managed to sting me on my thumb.  It was a good learning lesson, although it didn’t instill any fear of bees –  more respect than anything.

This one seems more violent than the others although there’s no gore. It didn’t bother my 8 year old son.

First up is the Singleton 12 (of Glendullan) bottled at 40% alc. First impression: Nothing special. Not much complexity. Too bad it’s so oxidized. This sample tastes old and a bit flat. If I stick my nose deep in the glass, I pick up some sherry and citrus, a distant similarity to Aberfeldy 12 but not as smooth or rich. Not much happening in the palette or the finish. No exceptional smoke or peat. For complexity, it’s in the Glenlivet 12 territory but I’d probably think better of it if I wasn’t tasting the bottom of the bottle. Judging from this first impression, even though the sampling isn’t ideal, I wouldn’t seek it out.

Moving on to bottle #2: Amrut Fusion, a single malt whisky from India bottled at 50% alc. What the hell is that on the nose? I imagine it would pack a punch if the sample was taken near the top of the bottle. What a shame. An odd mix of beef barley soup and flowers. Maybe oak? None of the rounded sweetness I get from sherry, but not harsh. It’s sharp on the tongue but it doesn’t burn. I don’t know what I’m tasting. Unsweetened baker’s chocolate and cognac? A spicey but smooth finish. Lingers on the tongue. It just stays there and then takes on a roasted chestnut flavour. A splash of water opens up the nose, more floral, still nutty, smooth spice. Gets better in the glass after 15 or 20 minutes, more rounded sensations. I wouldn’t pay top dollar for Amrut Fusion just yet, but I like it.

I picked up a bottle of Lagavulin 16 a couple months ago that I would not have recognized as Lagavulin if it was given to me blind. It tasted like the bottle had been left open for a month and the scotch slightly diluted. It didn’t have the big blast of smoke and peat that I’ve come to expect from Lagavulin 16. The finish seemed weak, not at all complex, none of the delayed warmth and peatiness rising up that I’ve experienced every time from Lagavulin 16 in the past. For the first time since I discovered single malt scotch, I’m disappointed with Lagavulin 16.

A nice dram of it will open up after a while with a small splash of water, but even then it’s nowhere near as smooth and warm as it used to be. It even burns a bit and Lagavulin 16 never used to burn. I’m not sure if I got a bad batch, but from what I can gather from other comments on whiskey forums, Lagavulin 16 has dropped significantly in quality in recent years. If the bottle I have is any indication, current bottlings of Lagavulin 16 should be avoided. It’s not what used to be and it’s certainly not worth the price they’re asking ($101 at my local store).

I’ll have to get my peat fix from Laphroaig and Ardbeg for now on.

My current #1 single malt scotch experience is the honey and vanilla smoothness of Aberfeldy 21. I had the impression that sherry was the dominate flavour but apparently that’s vanilla I’m tasting. The jury is still out on that one. Whatever it is, I love it because it’s opening my appreciation for the non-peaty scotches like Glenfiddich 12, a scotch I never expected to get into. I sampled the Glenfiddich 12 and was so impressed that I decided to go for the Glenfiddich 15. After reading mostly favourable reviews and watching Ralphy’s review of the 15, I expected to like it even more than than 12…

…but I don’t. If the Glenfiddich 12 is like biting into a big block of milk chocolate, then Glenfiddich 15 is like biting into an orange with the peel still on it. Perhaps the Glenfiddich 15 is part of a scotch family that I just don’t get yet. I don’t know.

The 15 is solera matured and I’m pretty that’s why it doesn’t work for me. The solera process more or less siphons off older whiskey during maturation and replaces it with younger whiskey, supposedly to create a marriage of flavours that keeps the whiskey fresh and spicy. It’s not a bad whiskey, but I can tell I don’t like spicy. The 12 has a slight bite but warms while it goes down. The 15 burns compared to the 12. The 12 has a sweet softness in the mouth and a slightly delayed old oak, aromatic sherry finish. (I appreciate any scotch that hits me with a delayed pleasant after taste.) The 15 has a sharp citrus delivery, overwhelming the sherry that barely makes it through to the finish. The 12 smells like an old musky log cabin where someone’s baking a chocolate cake. The 15 smells more like sap, though there’s a touch of sweetness hiding in the corner. I’m sure there’s more complexity to the 15 if you reach for it, but it doesn’t register on my palette. The Glenfiddich 15 seems only slightly more exceptional than, say, a Glenlivet 12.

A 750ml bottle of Glenfiddich 12 is $44 at my local store. The Glenfiddich 15 year old Solera is $56.

UPDATE (March 22/13): I had more of the 15 last night and it was a different experience. None of the citrus burn was present in the nose or palette. That seemed to allow room for a soft sherry sweetness to seep through, much like the 12. I’ll have to remember to hold off on judging a single malt until after I’ve let the bottle breathe a bit. I had a similar experience with a Glenlivet 18. The whiskey left a hard liquor burn on the tongue when I first opened the bottle, but it smoothed out considerably after about a week and a three or four drams had been removed. I’ll update again after I’ve given the 15 another go.

I’m beginning to sing a different tune in general for my appreciation of single malts, favouring the smooth sherry infused scotches over the peaty, smoky Islay scotches which have traditionally been my favourites. My notes go on like this: “I didn’t see this coming. I think I’m coming to appreciate sherry more. Just took a dash of Aberfeldy 21 to compare. It’s the comparing that makes me appreciate the scotches more. I keep saying it, but it’s true. The dash of Aberfeldy 21 has sherry, but you can tell it’s a well matured scotch because there’s a delay and then it hits you. I love that delay.”

I was so surprised by the Glenfiddich, I’m tempted to get a bottle of the limited edition Glenfiddich “Cask of Dreams” to replace my Aberfeldy 21 which isn’t likely to last much longer. I don’t know why the peaty scotches aren’t doing it for me like they used to, but I’m not complaining.

Laphroaig Triple Wood ($78) — Seaweed character like regular Laphroaig but around a camp fire that was started with charcoal brickettes and lighter fluid, burnt wood and smoke, perhaps not as much peat as the Laphroaig 10 but still in the same league as its Islay cousin, Lagavulin 16. The Triple Wood will replace my Laphroaig 10 for now on. Pour a big dram. Drink half of it neat because even at 48% it doesn’t burn and it pleasantly surprises with a cascade of delayed sensations that open up over five or ten minutes. A dash of water doesn’t hurt, but somehow gives it a bit of a burn for me, so I lean more towards having it neat.

Aberfeldy 21 ($150) — If it wasn’t so expensive, I’d have it in my cabinet all the time because it’s so different from what I’m used to. The more I drink it, the more I like it. It’s a Highland scotch but similar to the Laphroaig in that when I pop it open, it hits my nose and I say, “Oh yeah, this is going to be good,” and it is. Possibly the smoothest scotch I’ve tasted next to the Macallan 30. The aroma and flavour seem identical to me: honey and sherry, distant peat and soft oak, not at all harsh. At 40%, it doesn’t need much water. It’s not overly complex but it’s deep and smooth and satisfying, easy to drink. The Aberfedly 12 at a quarter of the price may be a better bargain.

Té Bheag ($37) — Pronounced che-veck, it’s a blended Gaelic whisky (bottled at 40%) loaded with heavy malted scotches, minus the harsh grain flavour of most blends. It has a smooth toffee character with a touch of peat, just enough earthiness to put a smile on my face. I’m pretty sure this will become my go-to affordable everyday scotch. It’s as deep, complex and more pleasant than many big name expensive single malts I’ve tasted. I’d recommend the Té Bheag to anyone who appreciates single malt. For what it’s worth, I agree with Ralfy on this one:

Ledaig 10 ($70) — From the Isle of Mull, the Ledaig 10 seems like a grain whisky that’s been soaking in moss for a while. It feels like it could be a high calibre scotch if it was left to mature for another six years or so. At 46%, it’s odd that it doesn’t open up much with water. It needs to age. The bottle describes it as being “wonderfully peated,” and it is. For my peat fix, I’d rather spend another $20 or so and pick up a Lagavulin 16, but the Ledaig is a passable peaty scotch if you’re on a budget.

Glenlivet 18 ($90) — This was the first scotch I tasted a few months ago at a Whiskies of the World convention. It was smooth then with a hint oak and smoke, but the bottle I purchased burns a bit when it goes down and that pretty much kills whatever complexity it has, even when I add some water (it’s bottled at 43%). I can tell it’s not a bad single malt, but it may be a regional thing (it’s from Speyside) that just doesn’t agree with my palate. I don’t know. Whenever I drink it, I can’t help but think how I could have picked up a bottle of Lagavulin 16 for pretty much the same price. I’m tempted to open the bottle and let it breathe overnight. I’ve heard that can make a difference with scotches that initially seem harsh. For now, though, it’s the least favourite of all the single malts in my house.

The big winner is the Té Bheag. It may be the smoothest blended scotch I’ve ever taste. It’s a one-note wonder (okay, two notes: other worldly toffee and a mosaic of peat), but it’s easily in the same class as certain single malts that cost twice or three times as much.

Nose (neat): Burt wood, seaweed, peat, oak.
Mouth (neat): Granite then moss, coffee with cream, hint of mango.
Finish (neat): Warm, smoke, earthy, smooth.

After just a touch of water:

Nose: Explodes like cherry flavoured pipe tobacco and milk chocolate.
Mouth: Mowed grass, green apples, camomile.
Finish: Smoke, cocoa and light peat.

The regular Laphroaig 10 is a young but richly-flavoured peaty scotch and fine company for something like Lagavulin 16, which is the king of Islay scotches in my book. I like the Triple Wood more than the Laphroaig Quarter Cask. I can tell more work went into making the Triple Wood. It’s more complex and mature. But it’s not better (or worse) than the regular Laphroaig. It’s unmistakeably Laphroaig, but it adds some burnt wood, smooth pipe smoke, earthy cocoa and a touch of sweetness to the mix. It opens up well with a dash of water and goes down with a hint of heat but smooth and smoky and satisfying.

If I could only pick two bottles from Islay to always have in my house for under $100 each, I’d want a bottle of Laphroaig Triple Wood and Lagavulin 16.

Here’s Ralfy’s review. For him, the Quarter Cask is better. For me, it’s the Triple Wood.

The 18 and older Laphroaigs are probably even better, but for under $100, and because it seems more complex and smoother than regular Laphroaig — so it’s like regular Laphroaig with a little extra something — the Triple Wood is the Laphroaig for me. At least for now.

I’m a lover of the peaty single malt Scotch whiskies, namely the Islay single malts, but having the chance to sample the higher end non-Islay scotches almost converted me. Nearly all the whiskies 18 years and older were magnificent. No peat? No problem — because the depth and the complexity of the scotches did nothing but take me on a pleasure trip. I’m still not sold on Macallan, mainly because it doesn’t get great until about 18 years at $300 a bottle. Whereas the Lagavulin 16 (my go-to single malt) hits the same mark — and even higher for lovers of the peat — for less $100.

Now let us take a journey back in time…

The Littlest Birds Will Eat Peanuts From Your Hand is probably the best thing I posted to Steel White Table. Then there are my reviews of Paul Auster books. Um… what else? My Smitty’s Frog Salad was famous for about two days. All my 4 Star Movie reviews are okay, I guess (but I’ll still see you at the movies). I helped negotiate John Walkenbach’s purchase of Steel White Table back in 2008. That was a debacle. My tryst with Whole Wheat Radio was good while it lasted. I enjoyed writing my list of 30 Songs that left an impression on me. Making ribs was fun. I don’t know. I guess that’s about it.

As for my time at Steel White Table, I believe the dying words of James Tiberius Kirk sum it up well:

“It was fun. Oh my!”

And if you just can’t get enough of me, I’m on G+ for as long as that lasts.

The About page may hold the final word on Steel White Table.

So long.

Regular posts, until this blog expires, will appear below this post, and there will be at least one every day.