Highland Park 1994 Vintage

Highland Park, like many distilleries, has ventured into duty-free exclusive releases. In HP's case, they have taken a page from the Glenrothes and gone for vintage releases. On a recent trip I picked up the 1994 (a sixteen year old bottled at 40% alcohol by volume). Other options include a 1973, 1990 and a 1998. The color is a deep straw, bordering on apple juice (!) and it has a surprisingly light nose. If tasted blind, I might have mistaken this for a Canadian whiskey (like 40 Creek) or an Irish. It smells like it came from a refill bourbon barrel -- I detect no sherry influence. There is a hint of perhaps bubble gum, defintely some floral notes, biscuit and cereal. It has a chewy, but light texture on the palate. With water there is more honey, but it's still a bit anti-septic. This is a very clean and light Highland Park; a bit of a lightweight if you ask me.

Fannie Farmer

I mentioned this new book from Chris Kimball of America's Test Kitchen fame, Fannie Farmer's Last Supper, not that long ago. I've since seen Mr. Kimball talk about his adventures in researching the Victorian-era twelve-course meal and the final, grand adventure in bringing the whole thing together, including the severe fire hazard of a wood-burning stove at maximum heat in an old, wood-frame house. And I have read the book, which is a fun, informative, and quick read. If you are at all interested in how people prepared and ate food in the 19th and early 20th century, then this book is for you. My only gripe is that many of the recipes are not reproduced in the book, but are kept on the website. That's fine for now, though it means that the whole experience is not available in one source (unless you print out the recipes and fold them for storage in the book), but in the future when the website is defunct? The book no doubt will survive long after the website -- or am I just a luddite tilting at windmills?

Falling in love all over again

Sometimes you have a dram that makes you recognize why you fell in love with whiskey in the first place. Many whiskies are good, some even excellent, but only a few are so sublime, so wonderful, that they transport you to another place. Purple prose? Perhaps. But when it comes to the Bowmore Maltmen's Selection, it is true. We brought back bottle 1555 of 3000 from Islay this summer - a 13 year old sherry butt matured scotch distilled in 1995 and bottled at 54.6% abv in 2008. The color is copper or dark cider. The nose is deeply rich, nutty (hazel, Brazil). The sherry is a beautiful addition, not over-powering. There is some fine peat that works well with the sherry, unlike some overly sherried scotch I have had (Highland Park single casks, for instance). There is also cereal biscuit, orange peal and burned-down fire coals after they've been doused with water. Honey. The taste has some bite, plum sauce. With water,I get caramel sugar, molasses, balsa wood, and muscavado sugar. It has a deep, rich, long-lasting flavor. The water brings out a few floral notes and a bit of the sea, as well as citrus on the tongue. A dram to be savored, ever-so slowly, with undivided attention.

Another whisky event

There's a new (at least I think it's new) whisky event coming next spring. For a modest $500+, you get a ticket that includes a sampling of a 40 year old whisky such as Highland Park 40. Early bird price is $375. Here's the webpage for information on the Universal Whisky Experience, which still has a lot of information to be provided at a future date.

Is the duck worth the call?

I have mused in the past on whether a pricey bottle of name-your-drink was proportionally better than a more modestly priced product. I doubt I will be able to ever tell you whether the 70 year old Mortlach or the 55 year old Macallan are, or perhaps even some of the celebrated Bordeaux vintages (1945, 1961 and 1982 come to mind). I did get to try a more moderately priced, yet well-regarded wine from the Napa Valley recently, though, that got me thinking on this topic again. The wine in question is the 2006 Cabernet Sauvignon from Duckhorn Vineyards. A glass of this stuff would get you halfway to a subscription to Wine Spectator. It was indeed a satisfying and layered drink. The tasting notes that came on my coaster said it would have black raspberry and oaken cocoa. I don't know about oaken, but cocoa was certainly in evidence and it had a carbonated, almost Dr. Pepperish/cola taste at the tip of the tongue. The tannins were barely present. It was a mild cab, not the monsters that one might get at a steakhouse. Was it better than a $10 bottle? Certainly. How about some $30 bottles? Maybe, but not all. So, at $95 a bottle it might be pricey, but if you are offered a glass, don't turn up your nose at it.

The Organ Festival

The French have a special relationship with their food, something that has often been praised and celebrated by many foodies. One town takes it to another level by celebrating the many culinary exploits associated with offal. I meant to link to this when it first came out -- better late than never. The town of Limoges, home to many butchers even to this day, holds a festival called the Brotherhood of the Small Bellies (it must sound better in French). Book your tickets for next year's festival now, so you too can try the sheep testicles.

Cheese, cheese, and more cheese

The NYTimes has a front-page piece in the Sunday paper about the two sides of USDA -- one pushing for less saturated fat in American diets, and the other (through a semi-private organization largely funded by the private sector, but with some funding from the USDA) that is pushing the use of more cheese in food.

A Tale of Two Pastas

Most hotel restaurants are not known for having the greatest food in the world, especially those associated with a chain. On a recent trip to Brussels, I had lunch in the hotel on the day I arrived because I was too tired to venture forth to discover the neighborhood. I will refrain from identifying the hotel in particular, but it's origins are connected with Washington DC and has an eponymous founder. I would not normally write about it, but the contrast between the pasta I had at this restaurant and another one I had at a place down-town is instructive.

First, I should have known better than to order a dish in November that features asparagus and morel mushrooms. Asparagus's season by the time November rolls around is a good six months gone in the Northern Hemisphere. Morels are also a spring and early summer harvest. So, I should have known better, but even setting aside the lack of freshness in the ingredient that would indicate less than flavorful results, basic seasoning was missing as well. The slivers of Parmesan cheese were waxy and tasteless, the cream sauce lacked salt, pepper, or anything to liven it up. I made it through about one quarter of the dish before giving up (why waste calories on tasteless food?).

Kwint, on the other hand, had a rich home-made pasta dish with pan-seared foie gras (okay, this makes having lots of flavor kinda easy) and truffle shavings, well-seasoned and served in a perfect portion. Matched with an opening course of smoked Scottish salmon with lemon pearls (that look like caviar) and fresh pepper, the meal was a wonderful way to cap off an afternoon of tramping about down-town Brussels in the rain. The restaurant has the added benefit of sitting atop a small rise overlooking the city center.

Now the comparison of these two pastas may seem a bit unfair, but given that the price of the two was comparable (22 Euro for the asparagus paste, 25 Euro for the foie gras), the difference in flavor, execution and presentation was astounding.