As a journalist, there are certain, shall we say anomalous privileges set upon me during my various press trips and travels. I use the word anomalous somewhat conservatively, as what I really mean is that these little snippets of outlandish luxury, not necessarily in keeping with my particular taste or bankroll, can be above and beyond what I would ever consider sampling. Namely, Midleton’s Very Rare Pearl Edition Whiskey.
The holy grail of the Irish blend, this nectar was only to befittingly enjoyed within the bowls of Warehouse No. 8 of the Old Midleton Distillery itself, with Cork’s countryside a backdrop to this momentous tipple. After a wait of 30 years, the old masters at Midleton dared not rush this final straight and lavished one of the barns with a truly resplendent display.
A band of strings set the tone with classical songs of affluent ambiance, both innately familiar and alien at the same time – much like a good whiskey, with its many layers of simplistic flavours combining to create something altogether new to the tongue. There was then a four course meal prepared by Ballymaloe chefs to strike a balance between. I was acutely keen to enjoy each one without filling myself up, leaving enough room on my palate to experience the whiskey to full affect.
Not being the most accomplished connoisseur of whiskey in the world (or even on the trip), I approached the masters and the experts very much the apprentice. Disconcerting as it was at first, with visions in my mind of pompous wine-tasters, turning their noses up and scoffing how I swirl the glass, I found whiskey enthusiasts to be a different breed entirely. Put it down to Irish hospitality or the all-encompassing welcoming nature of the drink itself, but my preconceptions couldn’t have been more unfounded. I was seated next to one of the distillers, Kevin O’gorman, during the dinner and began cautiously probing him, being as vague as possible to mask my lack of knowledge. “So do you prefer a single malt or a blend” he immediately asked (this seemed to be the default pleasantry thrown out once the other pesky ice-breakers were gotten out of the way).
It was at this point that I feared the jig was up. The Jack and whatever-mixer-was-available swilling ghost at the feast, rooted out by the wisened sensei. I said something about being an amateur but being really, really interested in learning about whiskey and waited for a supercilious eye-roll that hissed “intruder”.
But it never came.
What did come was a look of relish so fierce I thought he had misheard. The man then proceeded to clear his dining space for a makeshift, diagrammed explanation of the entire distilling process. Using the pepper pot as his still and the salt and butter as the various casks, he took me through the entire process from start to finish, deviating every so often to other distillery’s methods, then proudly harkening back to his own to smugly compare. It wasn’t a job to him but a passion, a craft. And he was a true master of his craft. I was his apprentice now and he could hardly contain his anticipation at what was to be my first sampling of a damned good whiskey.
Not once did I feel that my inexperience rendered me unwarranted to be there and try this liquid gold. Kevin took me under his wing and could only express incredulous glee that I had been thrown into the inner circle so early on in my whiskey-tasting career.
MIDLETON VERY RARE EDITION CONTINUED >>>>>>>>>>>>>>
