Whisky Magazine Issue 131
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Dave says farewell to Whisky Magazine
I am in southern Spain. More importantly I am in Spain on holiday (which technically means I shouldn't be writing this). More importantly again, I'm in Spain drinking Fino. Can anything be more right in my world? Maybe some of you disagree. Have a dram instead Dave, you might say. Sorry. Fino it is, because it is the right drink, at the right time, in the right place. It's from here. The food works with it. Last night I drank Fino throughout the meal, only stopping in order to down what seemed like a half pint of PX (over)generously poured by the waiter.
It's been a journey of rediscovery, like the dusty sherry bar in Madrid which I'd last propped up around 17 years ago. Little has changed, maybe some more dust on the old bottles, the mildly dubious tapas, the idea that you are part of this secret club. Or Bar Castañeda in Granada last seen in an even more distant past where I sat and scribbled thoughts inspired by the Alhambra's peace – a place which I now realise, older, grey, bearded, was a trigger to change paths and start a career in writing.
17 years is a long time. It's longer than my daughter has been alive, but is as long as Whisky Magazine has existed. I'd forgotten until I checked that my first piece was actually published in Issue one. It was about Speyside. It wasn't very good, so don't bother looking it up. We were all – bar Michael Jackson – trying to finding a new way of writing about something which was still mildly obscure. Sometimes we manage...