Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Archetypal Residue

That's the good stuff. Maybe not the best stuff, but really good stuff.

Bowmore, single-malt. From the oldest operating distillery on the island of Islay. The second oldest in all of Scottland.

Aged for 12 uninterrupted years in a single sherry barrel. Slowly, patiently absorbing the warmth of oak and salt air.

Islays are known for their intensely smokey, peaty aromas. This one is not as sharp as some (Laphroaig and Lagavulin reign as most distinctly flavorful). But Bowmore is full of character and flavor, while remaining extremely well balanced and very smooth.


It rolls around on the tongue, dangling a hint of honey behind rich smoke that disolves into flavors of pear and - if you wait for it - dark chocolate. Close your eyes and savor it, and you can smell the Scottish sea-mist wafting over the malting floor.

Bad scotch is like so much "Christian" fiction. Bland, convoluted, uninspired, soul-less. Great scotch drinks like Edwards reads. Resonating echoes of the better country. Steeped in archetypal residue. Passing from lips to tongue, evoking the depth of goodness and beauty that must been seen and tasted, not merely told of. Smoothly but resolutely warming as it goes down, it inspires contemplation of the mysterious currents of Word and Spirit.


7 comments:

The Fair Minstrel said...

Is that why dispensationalists only drink 7up?

The Blind Sage said...

Well, and perhaps the occasional wine-cooler

The Jolly Friar said...

No, but it is why they only drink blended scotch, confusion, confusion, confusion.

The Blind Sage said...

Yes. All those bloody charts. Taking something divinely simple and ripping it into all kinds of disjointed pieces strung together willy-nilly. It does make the whole matter rather distasteful.

The Jolly Friar said...

Only here at the Kings Abbey will you find the observation that dispensationalism and Blended Scotch are like matter and anti-matter. They cannot exist without each other...

The Blind Sage said...

Just say 'No' to blended scotch.

The Fair Minstrel said...

"What ho there my fine fellow! How does this fine evening treat you?"

"Oh just fine, just fine old chap. And you are...?"

"Quite right, my good man, I must be genteel, mustn't I. HA! My name is Blended Scotch."

"You don't say. Well then...No."