“Through the performance process itself, what is normally sealed up, inaccessible to everyday observation and reasoning, in the depth of sociocultural life, is drawn forth” as Victor Turner writes in From Ritual To Theater. Purchased this particular Laphroaig Càirdeas at the distillery and I’ve been looking forward to opening canister and bottle and exploring its taste through the performance of a tasting.
“Each distinctive experience has a perpetual core.” Yes, Mr. Turner, yes. On the nose there’s plenty of oak and apples and cream, damp earth and wet branches, spiced nuts, toffee and caramel, stewed cabbage, frying bacon and pine resin. Dip my nose again and Cracker Jack, peppermint tea served with freshly baked bread. Think slowly darkening afternoon light in spring.
“Hence, in many societies the liminal initiands are often considered to be dark, invisible, like the sun or moon in eclipse or the moon between phases . . . .” My crossing of the threshold, passing through the doorway continues as I pour a small portion into my mouth and taste baked apple and a cinnamon roll, a salt lick with smoke and leather, and a sour tang like SweeTarts which continues into the finish. Very clean and crisp, and with added water the pear notes increase. A bit of syrup on the tongue taking me into a well-disciplined world of distilling. Cue King Crimson. Cue “Discipline.”
Empires, Cannibals, and Magic Fish Bones 