Whisky Magazine Issue 2
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Michael Jackson has a story of seduction, and a moral for all would-be seducers
The first year we shared bed and board, I greeted my girlfriend on Valentine's morning with a glass of Champagne, scrambled eggs and smoked salmon. We raised a toast with the Taittinger, she enjoyed the eggs and loved the salmon, but none of it had quite the effect for which I had hoped. She stroked our cat (who was actually after the salmon), rather than me.
In the year that followed, I came to realise that she would have preferred a cup of tea: a blend of malty Darjeeling with just a touch of fragrant, smoky, Lapsang. The good thing about women with red hair and green eyes – and therefore a suspicion of Irish blood – is that they are genetically predisposed toward malt.
‘The greatest drink in the world,' she will purr, as though the notion had just come to her. At the time, she may be fondling a cup of rosie, a pint of Guinness, or a glass of usquebaugh. I take this as a teasing blend of eclecticism (in the choice of drink) and constancy (toward maltiness).
As I grew to know her better (though I shall never wholly understand her), I realized that the seduction had better start the previous evening. A glass of Champagne before dinner would be welcome, though better served as a Black Velvet, with a dozen oysters. The clincher was the post-prandial malt.
I have never believed that wine and brandy were somehow more feminine than beer and whisky. Why on earth should that be so? The restraint on beer is sometimes argued as a physical fact – women are too small to acc...