That’s Demian above running up a hill in Linlithgow, Scotland outside the burned out remains of the Royal Palace. It’s nearing dusk, which in June at this latitude means night won’t completely fall until after 10pm. The image speaks to how a camera, in this case an iPhone, is limited in how it processes light, … Continue reading Taste Creates The World: Several Drams Of Whisky / Part 2.
A dram of Edradour Whisky on a table changes everything. No longer a horizontal surface where family gathers, which creates the family, no longer a resting place for animals and produce turned into meals, which creates the animals and vegetables, now table and room become taste and memory, where fellow travelers begin their journey and … Continue reading Taste Creates The World: A Dram Of Whisky / Part One.
It’s a dinner party. Wine passed down the table. Angels have appeared at Abraham and Sarah’s door, and as good hosts the old couple provide food and drink. And the LORD appeared unto him by the terebinths of Mamre, as he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day; and he lifted … Continue reading Night Thoughts For North Carolina
As I write this, I am drinking Laphroaig, Jefferson’s, Glendronach, Yellow Rose, and more. All the whiskey that has filled my nasal passages, passed my lips and burned my throat swirls here tonight in my glass. Well, it’s a glass of WoodFord Reserve that I’m tipping back, but one whiskey references them all. Whiskey and … Continue reading Whiskey, Borges, And The Incredible Good Fortune To Wander Into A Labyrinth And Age With Astor Piazzolla’s Finale for The Rough Dancer And The Cyclical Night
Hardwoods and evergreens press emerald, malachite and viridian leaves and needles up against the road snaking along the edge of Little Traverse Bay between Harbor Springs and Cross Village. Bellworts, violets and wake-robins cover the forest floor, while above the sun disappears for minutes at a time as I drive M-119, the Tunnel of Trees … Continue reading James Salter: Life Is Meals
So, apparently there is a terroir battle between those who smell each soil particle in a glass and those who only smell alcohol and cry “Pour on!” I’m posting Dwight Furrow’s review of the situation, along with Compound Interest’s blog on the aroma of the sea–something particular dear to my heart when I curl up … Continue reading Terroir Battle? You Know What Side I’m On!
Islay. The name conjures salt water-spray off the North Atlantic, peat bogs rich with all that decays, limestone, spring water, geese and thrushes. And whisky. Laphroaig, Lagavulin and Ardbeg on the southeast shore of the island. Bunnahabhain and Caol Ila to the northeast. Bowmore, Bruichladdich and Port Charlotte around Loch Indaal in the middle of … Continue reading Terroir And Smoke: Bruichladdich Islay Barley 2007 And Smoked Catfish Étouffée With Readings From Sir Albert Howard, Aldo Leopold and Eliot Coleman.