Scotch Whisky Quotes

Scotch whisky is made from barley and the morning dew on angel's nipples.

You can never rouse Harris. There is no poetry about Harris- no wild yearning for the unattainable. Harris never "weeps, he knows not why." If Harris's eyes fill with tears, you can bet it is because Harris has been eating raw onions, or has put too much Worcester over his chop. If you were to stand at night by the sea-shore with Harris, and say: "Hark! do you not hear? Is it but the mermaids singing deep below the waving waters; or sad spirits, chanting dirges for white corpses held by seaweed?" Harris would take you by the arm, and say: "I know what it is, old man; you've got a chill. Now you come along with me. I know a place round the corner here, where you can get a drop of the finest Scotch whisky you ever tasted- put you right in less than no time." Harris always does know a place round the corner where you can get something brilliant in the drinking line. I believe that if you met Harris up in Paradise (supposing such a thing likely), he would immediately greet you with: "So glad you've come, old fellow; I've found a nice place round the corner here, where you can get some really first-class nectar.

In addition to the smells of mince and pumpkin pies, the Sage and onions of turkey stuffing, another aroma floated in the air, the very essence of Santa Claus. Years later, when I was grown up, I still remembered that marvelous fragrance and recognized it as Scotch whisky.

Hunter’s father had a passion for single malt Scotch whisky. A passion that, frankly, Hunter had never understood. He found whisky, any type of whisky, way too overwhelming for his palate.

How to Be a Man Step One: Eat a steak, preferably raw. If you can find a juicy steer and just maw a healthy bite off of its rump, that’s the method that will deliver the most immediate nutrition, protein, and flavor. Make sure you chew at least three times. Step Two: Wash it down with your whisky of choice, preferably a single-malt scotch.

Scotch whisky bring out a real you.

What does he mean by disgraceful propensities?" "Weelll, I should imagine in that ingrown aristocracy it could mean anything from an improper preference for scotch whisky, to a practiced predilection for raping the cat." He chokes on his coffee.

Ah," Anselmo took the cup, put his head back and let it run down his throat. He looked at Maria standing holding the bottle and winked at her, tears coming from both his eyes. "That," he said. "That." Then he licked his lips. "That is what kills the worm that haunts us.

After all, Christmastide is the time of year for warming brandies, for assertive burgundies and meaty Medoc wines, and for gladsome whiskies. And an Islay malt: well, this is the octave of St Andrew, and you will doubtless recall that he is not only the patron saint of Alba, of Scotland, but was also a fisherman. How better to toast my favorite apostle (he being all the things I personally am not, starting with humble and self-effacing) than with the sea-salty dram of an Islay whisky?

One whisky is all right, two is too much, and three is too few.

Through these days Bunny made increasingly frequent and protracted visits to the bathroom, beating off with a single-minded savagery intense even by Bunny's standards. Now, sitting on the sofa with a large Scotch, his cock feels and looks like something that has been involved in a terrible accident - a cartoon hotdog, maybe, that has made an unsuccessful attempt to cross a busy road. The boy sits beside him and the two of them are locked in a parenthesis of mutual zonkedness. Bunny Junior stares blankly at the encyclopedia open in his lap. His father watches the television, smokes his fag and drinks his whisky, like an automaton. After a time, Bunny turns his head and looks at his son and clocks the way he stares at his weird encyclopedia. He sees him but he can't really believe he is there. What does this kid want? What is he supposed to do with him? Who is he? Bunny feels like an extinct volcano, lifeless and paralysed. Yeah, he thinks, I feel like an extinct volcano - with a weird little kid to look after and a mangled sausage for a dick.

As I laid the book down there was a knock at the door, and my stranger came in.  I gave him a pipe and a chair, and made him welcome.  I also comforted him with a hot Scotch whisky; gave him another one; then still another—hoping always for his story. After a fourth persuader, he drifted into it himself, in a quite simple and natural way: THE STRANGER'S HISTORY I am an American.  I was born and reared in Hartford, in the State of Connecticut—anyway, just over the river, in the country.  So I am a Yankee of the Yankees—and practical; yes, and nearly barren of sentiment, I suppose—or poetry, in other words.

His political and social speeches were cataracts of anecdotes and "loud laughter"; his bodily health was of a bursting sort; his ethics were all optimism; and he dealt with the Drink problem (his favourite topic) with that immortal or even monotonous gaiety which is so often a mark of the prosperous total abstainer. The established story of his conversion was familiar on the more puritanic platforms and pulpits, how he had been, when only a boy, drawn away from Scotch theology to Scotch whisky, and how he had risen out of both and become (as he modestly put it) what he was. Yet his wide white beard, cherubic face, and sparkling spectacles, at the numberless dinners and congresses where they appeared, made it hard to believe, somehow, that he had ever been anything so morbid as either a dram-drinker or a Calvinist. He was, one felt, the most seriously merry of all the sons of men.

You... you were telling me about your diet?" "Well, mostly I was raised on milk, potatoes, dulse, fish-" "I beg your pardon, did you say 'dulse'? What is that, exactly?" "A kind of seaweed," MacRae said. "As a lad, it was my job to go out at low tide before supper and cut handfuls of it from the rocks on shore." He opened a cupboard to view a small store of cooking supplies and utensils. "It goes in soup, or you can eat it raw." He glanced at her over his shoulder, amusement touching his lips as he saw her expression. "Seaweed is the secret to good health?" Merritt asked dubiously. "No, milady, that would be whisky. My men and I take a wee dram every day." Seeing her perplexed expression, her continued, "Whisky is the water of life. It warms the blood, keeps the spirits calm, and the heart strong." "I wish I liked whisky, but I'm afraid it's not to my taste." MacRae looked appalled. "Was it Scotch whisky?" "I'm not sure," she said. "Whatever it was, it set my tongue on fire." "It was no' Scotch, then, but rotgut. Islay whisky starts as hot as the devil's whisper... but then the flavors come through, and it might taste of cinnamon, or peat, or honeycomb fresh from the hive. It could taste of a long-ago walk on a winter's eve... or a kiss you once stole from your sweetheart in the hayloft. Whisky is yesterday's rain, distilled with barley into a vapor that rises like a will-o'-the-wisp, then set to bide its time in casks of good oak." His voice had turned as soft as a curl of smoke. "Someday we'll have a whisky, you and I. We'll toast health to our friends and peace to our foes... and we'll drink to the loves lost to time's perishing, as well as those yet to come.

Scent is the strongest link to our memories. What I do just makes a deeper connection. Brain chemistry or black magic—it’s unclear. People pay a lot of money for it, though. To the best of my knowledge, I’m the only person who knows how to do what I do. Jonathan certainly didn’t teach me, except through his unwilling participation in my first experiments. Perhaps it was something he had dreamed of, in concept. In execution—as it were—the product was all mine. Except, of course, for the components that went into it. Then again, he was a secretive bastard, and I don’t exactly shout about my talents from the rooftops. There could be other perfumers offering the same services, but I have as little idea of them as I hope they do of me. The memory began to swim, growing indistinct as the brighter elements of brine evaporated. The leather and coffee would linger through the last of my Scotch. If I didn’t shower, I would go to bed with Jonathan’s ghost beside me and wake in sheets that smelled like he had stayed the night and slipped away before I woke. I finished my whisky and went to the windowless bathroom, turning the water on so hot the whole apartment filled with steam. When I came out my skin was pink and I only smelled like soap. Castille, unscented.

Sniff, swill, sip 329 words Leading whisky expert Charles MacLean on the underrated art of downing a good Scotch. USE ALL YOUR SENSES We all love a splash of golden liquor now and then, but the fine art of appreciating whisky requires a heightening of the senses. 'Nosing' whisky, a technique employed by blenders, is called sensory evaluation or analeptic assessment. Prior to sipping, examine its colour and 'tears', which are the reams left behind on the glass after you swirl it. Even our sense of hearing can help us judge the whisky; a full bottle should open with a happy little pluck of the cap. APPRECIATE A GOOD MALT Appreciation and enjoyment are two dimensions of downing a stiff one. Identify how you like your whisky (with ice, soda or water) and stick with it. Getting sloshed on blended whisky is all very good, but you will need single malt and an understanding of three simple things to truly cherish your drink. A squat glass with a bulb at the bottom releases the full burst of its aroma when swilled. A narrow rim is an added advantage. Instead of topping the drink with ice, which dilutes the aroma, go for water. NIBBLE, DON'T GOBBLE Small bites pair best with your whisky. It excites the palate minimally, letting you detect the characteristics of the whisky through contrast. If you're not a big fan of food and whisky pairing, skip it. OLD IS GOLD While old whiskies are not necessarily better, it's a known fact that most of the finer whiskies are well-aged. I would consider whiskies that are anywhere between 18 and 50 years as old, but it also depends on the age of the cask. If the cask is reactive, it will dominate the flavours of the whisky within ten years of the ageing process. If you leave the spirit in the cask for much longer, the flavour of the whisky will be overpowered by the wood, lending it a distinct edge. Maclean was in Delhi to conduct the Singleton Sensorial experience.

Proximity to the sea is a classic ingredient of a particular terroir, especially evident in briny, peaty, single-malt Scotch whiskies.

So tonight he sulked off–’Things to do. See youse on Monday!’ And he went, without even thinking wwe, to another pub on the other side of Central Railway Station [...] I feel like a whisky, he thought; I just feel like a whisky. “Scotch or Australian?” asked the barmaid. Well, there’s no need to go completely cuckoo, thought Frank. “Australian’s good enough for me,” he told the barmaid.

Canadian blending is similar in concept to the practices used to blend Scotch, except that in Scotland the products of many different distilleries are mixed together. However, Canadian blending does not resemble the American practice of mixing mature whisky with grain neutral spirits (GNS). Let us dispel the “GNS myth” right now. Canadian whisky is never made with grain neutral spirits. Tiny amounts of young rye or base whisky may occasionally be used skillfully as top dressing to brighten or enhance certain flavours, but neutral spirits? Never.

So tonight he sulked off–’Things to do. See youse on Monday!’ And he went, without even thinking where, to another pub on the other side of Central Railway Station [...] I feel like a whisky, he thought; I just feel like a whisky. “Scotch or Australian?” asked the barmaid. Well, there’s no need to go completely cuckoo, thought Frank. “Australian’s good enough for me,” he told the barmaid.

Scotch Whisky Single Malt: This Scotch can only contain malted barley and water, must be the product of one distillery and aged in wood for at least three years. However, single malts can contain a mix of different distillations, casks, and years. This allows brands like a twelve-year-old Glenlivet to maintain consistency and always taste the same, no matter when it’s bottled. Single Grain: Like single malt, this Scotch is a product of one distillery but can be made from other grains and/or unmalted barley. It is used mainly for blending and rarely sold on its own, though it is becoming more popular as whisky connoisseurship increases. Blended Malt: This style, consisting of a mix of single malts from different distilleries, is not common. Blended Grain: This style uses a mix of single grains from different distilleries and is also not common. Blended Scotch: The most popular style in the world, including nondistillery names such as Johnnie Walker (red, black, and blue), Chivas Regal, Dewar’s, Ballantine’s, Cutty Sark, and so on. These are blends of single malts and grain whiskies from different distilleries, sometimes dozens. Vintage Year: While there are really no “vintages” in the sense of better or worse harvests, as with wine, bottles with a year on the label can only contain whiskies made in that year. This will usually taste different from the same distillery’s standard single malt—different but not necessarily better or as good.

GORDON COMSTOCK” was a pretty bloody name, but then Gordon came of a pretty bloody family. The “Gordon” part of it was Scotch, of course. The prevalence of such names nowadays is merely a part of the Scotchification of England that has been going on these last fifty years. “Gordon,” “Colin,” “Malcolm,” “Donald”—these are the gifts of Scotland to the world, along with golf, whisky, porridge and the works of Barrie and Stevenson.

Good friends and good whiskey are a great thing, and they’re all a bit different. When I think of nights drinking bourbon, I think of laughter and card playing. When I think of nights drinking Scotch, I think of music and, more often than not, talking about whisky. But when I think of the nights I’ve enjoyed Irish whiskey, what I think of are stories.

The proper drinking of Scotch Whisky is more than indulgence: it is a toast to civilization, a tribute to the continuity of culture, a manifesto of man’s determination to use the resources of nature to refresh mind and body and enjoy to the full the senses with which he has been endowed.” David Daiches

the closure of Irish whiskey’s two biggest markets and the general restriction of trade from the two world wars, combined with most Irish distillers’ steadfast refusal to adopt the milder blended style of Scotch whisky, pushed Irish distilling to the brink in the 1960s. The remaining distillers in the Republic merged in 1966 to form Irish Distillers Ltd. They built a modern joint distillery in Midleton in 1975, and 11 years later they bought out Bushmills in the north. All Irish whiskey was now made by one company — one company, against the world.

if you are drinking a cup of herb tea as you read this, you might want to put it down for another hundred pages or so. Pour yourself a Scotch whisky instead, one of the few reliably Real Foods.

Apart from an early antipathy to capitalism, he had seen something of the evil effects of drink in big cities, and on his first visit to Chicago he had shocked the local Press by comparing the city to hell. Urged by the journalists to give himself more time to see the city before condemning it, he requested them to come back in three days. When they returned and asked him what his views now were, he lifted his hat and said solemnly: 'I apologise to hell.

Toddy, excellent both as a cure for cold and as an elixir of life, requires careful preparation. The ingredients are sugar, boiling water and preferably a well-matured malt whisky. First, you heat the tumbler with warm water and, when the glass has reached a comfortable temperature, you pour out the water. Then into the empty glass you put two or three squares of loaf-sugar and add enough boiling water - a wine glass should suffice - to dissolve the sugar. Then add a wineglass of whisky and stir with a silver spoon; then another wineglass of boiling water, and finally to crown this liquid edifice top it with another wineglass of whisky. Stir again and drink the contents with slow and loving care. As a cure for cold, take your toddy to bed, put one bowler hat at the foot, and drink until you see two.

This is the ordinary Scottish recipe for toddy; an alternative interpretation is that of my old Russian friend, the late M Baleiev, who founded the famouse Chauve-Souris cabaret show in Moscow and, after the Russian revolution, brought it to London and New York. Here is his version: 'First you put in whisky to make it strong; then you add water to make it weak; next you put in lemon to make it sour, then you put in sugar to make it sweet. You put in more whisky to kill the water. Then you say "Here's to you" - and you drink it yourself.

Some wood choices you can use for smoking grain include alder, apple, beech, hickory, maple, pear, pecan, and oak; each variety brings its own qualities to the fire. Alder, for example, gives malt a sweet, delicate woodiness, and pecan is more pungent, intense, and spicy. Don’t forget that you can use spicy mesquite chips or peat for that sharp creosote character found in some Scotch whiskies.