Last Night's Tipple

Originally, most Irish Whiskey was made from 100% malted barley. Then, in the middle of the 18th Century, Ireland's British overlords instituted a tax on malt. In addition to riots, this provoked the Irish (or, at least, many of them) to stop making their whiskey from all malt but instead to combine both malted and unmalted barley in their mashes. Incidentally, the same is true for Irish beer: the institution of the malt tax in the 18th Century is indirectly responsible for Guinness's recipe for their stout, which contains a percentage of unmalted barley.

Whiskey made in pot stills from a mash of both malted and unmalted barley has come to be known as pot still whiskey, and for two centuries, pure pot still whiskey was synonymous with Irish Whiskey. The end of Prohibition in the US also ended the reign of pure pot still whiskey in Ireland. Irish distillers bet correctly that Prohibition had lightened America's tastes in whiskey, so they began to blend pot still whiskey with column-distilled grain whiskeys to produce a lighter product. Now, virtually all Irish Whiskey is blended. The only two brands that remain pure pot still whiskey are Green Spot, which is rarely if ever seen in the United States, and Redbreast.

Redbreast originated in 1939 as a brand owned by Gilbey's, a wine and spirits company. It was made from Jameson's whiskey, which, at that time and up until 1968 was sold entirely in bulk to independent bottlers. Redbreast was never much of big seller, but Gilbey's continued to bottle it just as it always had been, from 100% pot still whiskey. By the time Irish Distillers acquired the brand in the 1990s, it was a dinosaur. Someone at Irish Distillers (now owned by Pernod Ricard) realized what a gem they had, and it was relaunched as a 12 year old. All of the whiskey that goes into it is distilled at the Midleton Distillery in County Cork, but that's hardly unusual. Most Irish Whiskey comes from there now.

The problem that I have with the blended Irish Whiskey that I have tried from Midleton (Jameson's and Tullamore Dew) is that it has this off aroma that I can only describe as being like dirty sweatsocks. Not appetizing at all to me, but I suppose that some people might like it. That aroma is not at all present in Redbreast. There's a slightly sour smell overlayed by lots of vanilla and nuts. On the palate, it's smooth, smooth, smooth. This whiskey has lots of character and is the best Irish whiskey that I have ever tried. It's not cheap at $42 a fifth, but it is good and well-worth seeking out.

Today's Shoes

Gravati cap-toe whole-cut bluchers in blue Lama calf (15537, 640 last). Every time I wear blue shoes, I halfway expect someone to say something, but nobody ever does.

Last Night's Tipple

Like most other Scotch distilleries, Bowmore has had some very hard times in its past and has more than once barely escaped being shut down forever. It is the oldest remaining distillery on Islay and in fact was the first licensed distillery on the island, founded in the town of Bowmore, which came into being in the late 18th Century when the island's laird evicted the residents of town of Bridgend to make room for his Versailles-style gardens, leasing them land in Bowmore in compensation. The distillery's first heyday was during the middle of the 19th Century. A disputed sale in 1894, mismanagement, depression, and two world wars produced an extended run of bad times that lasted until the Morrison family bought Bowmore in 1963 and began something of a revival, one of the most significant aspects of which was the hiring of Jim McEwan, who eventually rose to be the distillery manager. The Morrisons sold out to Suntory, the Japanese spirits conglomerate, and Suntory has not been bashful about giving Bowmore the financial resources that it needs to be successful.

Bowmore's malt is peated to 25 parts per million phenols, which means that it is significantly less peaty than Ardbeg, Laphroaig, or Caol Ila. Its bread-and-butter bottling, Legend, is also younger than most other Islay regular bottlings: 8 years old. Since peatiness decreases with age, I would guess that Legend competes in peatiness with the others, though. I purchased the sherry-finished bottling that Bowmore calls Darkest. Late last year, Bowmore decided to rationalize their lineup, which meant that they eliminated some bottlings and changed the age range for others. As part of this they moved Darkest from a 12 year old to a 15 year old. I'm almost positive that I have one of the older bottlings, though, because it has gold instead of copper on the label (and as part of the rationalization, Bowmore also changed the labels to use copper instead of gold printing). It is indeed very dark for a Scotch. At first, though, the nose is all peat. After a while, though, the peat burns off to reveal sherry-like sweetness and nuttiness. I had wondered how I would like the combination of savory and sweet that a sherried Islay malt would figure to have, and the answer is that I like it a good deal.

You Must Be Joking

Have you seen the latest Viagra commercial?



I don't know about anybody else, but it seems to me that these guys are wasting their money if they respond to taking Viagra by sitting around with other men playing cheesy covers/manglings of Elvis songs.

As Whole Foods Turns

Yesterday's Wall Street Journal reported on the opening of the hearing in a US District Court on the Federal Trade Commission's motion for a preliminary injunction blocking Whole Foods' proposed merger with Wild Oats, another organic supermarket chain ("Court Hears Two Sides To Whole Foods Deal", p. A4). As expected, the principal bone of contention is what the definition of the market that Whole Foods and Wild Oats compete in. The FTC contends that it should be upscale organic supermarkets, while Whole Foods believes that it should be all grocery stores and farmers' markets. Also at issue are the effect on prices that the merger would have on the markets where Whole Foods directly competes with Wild Oats.

I am very sympathetic to Whole Foods in its fight with the FTC. As I have previously written, to argue that Whole Foods only competes with other upscale organic markets ignores the reality that mainline grocery stores are increasingly copying the type of product that Whole Foods sells and the way it sells it. Were I Whole Foods management, I would be much more afraid of what Kroger and Safeway can do with their deep pockets than a competitor like Wild Oats. For those who are interested in an articulate and powerful defense of Whole Foods' position, see this blog post by John Mackey, Whole Foods' CEO. He comprehensively lays out the reasons why Whole Foods wants to buy Wild Oats and why the FTC's complaint does not make a very good argument. Among other things, he points out that Whole Foods doesn't even regard Wild Oats as its principal competitor: that distinction belongs to Trader Joe's, Central Market, and Wegman's; and the competition that these chains offer constrain Whole Foods' prices more than Wild Oats ever could. There's a ton of good stuff there, and not just about the competition angle of the suit.

And thanks to Sara for her links to stories in the Austin American Statesman about Trader Joe's and John Mackey.

Today's Shoes

Day

Edward Green split-toe chasse shoes with a hand-stitched apron and toe seam in light British tan calf (EG calls it Edwardian Antique -- Dover model, 808 last). The shoes pictured to the left are Dovers in Edwardian Antique, only on the round-toe 202 last instead of the square-toe 808. I bought my pair through George Bass, a retailer in New Orleans. They took over ten months to arrive. I'm not sure if that's because of problems with George Bass or problems with Edward Green. That's a long time to wait for a pair of shoes, but the Dover is the second most sublime shoe design in existence.

Evening

Gravati cap-toe bals with reversed seams and a leather-stitched faux-brogueing on the toe cap and throat in tobacco suede (16492, 655 last).

Last Night's Tipple

One of the major problems with beer is that it spoils easily. Before the days of refrigeration, this was a major problem in any climate but especially in hot and tropical regions. Shipping beer to India was particularly problematic for British brewers. What to do, what to do? Well, ever-resourceful, British brewers developed a style of beer called India Pale Ale. Beginning in the 1780s, various brewers began to make a high-alcohol, heavily-hopped variant of a pale ale (which, to modern sensibilities, isn't particularly pale). This makes sense: both alcohol and hops inhibit bacterial growth, and bacteria are what cause beer to spoil.

Every microbrewery that has pretensions to quality has an IPA in its repertoire. There are two reasons for this, I think. First of all, it's relatively easy to make. Secondly, hops are to beer what peat is to Scotch: many of the customers who inhabit the high end of each market are of the opinion that more is better. Saint Arnold Brewery, not wanting to disappoint the hopheads, came out with their Elissa IPA in 2004. It is named for the sailing ship Elissa, which is a museum in Galveston and which is a ship of the sort that would have transported IPA to India in the 19th Century. My overwhelming impression of it is that it's very hoppy, as it should be. I liked it, but I can't give more extensive tasting notes because I drank it with some spicy (for me) Thai food and was consequently sucking it down rather than savoring it.

Today's Shoes

Day

Edward Green half-brogue bals in British tan calf (EG calls it chestnut antique -- Cadogan model, 202 last). These shoes were purchased at the original Saks Fifth Avenue after a day of tromping around Manhattan, and I consequently got them larger than they needed to be. All of the advice says to try on shoes in the afternoon because feet swell during the day. I imagine that this is good advice, but don't do it after walking on concrete for several hours.

Evening

Edward Green single buckle ankle boots in dark oak calf (Olney model, 606 last). Another purchase from the original Saks Fifth Avenue in Manhattan. These would be more comfortable if EG had either made them a bit taller so that they didn't hit on my ankle bone or if the upper part of the boot had been unlined. Boots of the same model and on the same last are shown in the picture above.

Whiskey Glasses

I typically drink whiskey straight from one of my Tiffany Plaid double old fashioned glasses. Experts say that a tulip-shaped glass like this Riedel single malt whiskey glass is a better way to concentrate the aroma and flavor of whiskey. Maybe so, but I own both the Riedel glasses and the Tiffany glasses. I prefer the Tiffany glass. Part of it is that the Riedel glasses are so thin that they break easily. Part of it is that the Tiffany glasses have a nice heft to them. Drinking is partly about ritual. One's enjoyment of a drink is not simply the product of the innate quality of the spirit but also the conditions under which it is consumed and sensory perceptions other than aroma and flavor. It is simply more enjoyable to me to lift a heavy cut crystal glass than a light, uncut one. And, I have to say that I have not noticed any degradation in flavor or aroma from using the Tiffany glasses.

(And the final reason why I like the Tiffany glasses: the horizontal cut lines on the outside of the glass are a built-in measuring device. No need to estimate with these.)

Last Night's Tipple

The problem with all Van Winkle bottlings is that they are difficult to find. In the past five years, I have bought the Family Reserve Rye every time that I have seen it, and I've only bought two bottles. It's hard to enjoy it (at least, enjoy it consistently) in those circumstances: because I know that it will be difficult or impossible to replace it once it is gone, I hesitate to draw down my supply. But good whiskey is meant to be enjoyed, not stared at; so I had a pour last night. Unsurprisingly, of all the ryes that I've tried, Van Winkle and the 18 year-old Sazerac have seemed the most Bourbon-like. I would imagine that this is because they have spent the most time in barrel and consequently have the barrel give them a greater preponderance of their flavor and aroma characteristics than younger whiskeys. It's possible to tell that Van Winkle is rye rather than Bourbon, of course: the rye character comes through, particularly on the palate and on the finish. But nosing the whiskey is like nosing an older Bourbon, all vanilla and caramel and maple syrup. I will be disappointed when this is gone.