Whisky Magazine Issue 9
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Englishman Adam Edward relaxes his stiff upper lip to reveal a life-long passion.
Some drink whisky before making love, others before squaring up for a fight. Some drink it to laugh and some to drown their sorrows. For some it is convivial and yet there are those who enjoy it in solitude. But for many of us there is just one thing about whisky that unites us in common cause, it comes with a screw cap and is blended.
The rest sip another concoction called malt. I drink blended whisky every day of my life. I drink it with soda as an aperitif and as a digestive. And during the meal when others play with white wine, red wine and pudding wines, I drink it with water. During the day I will occasionally sink a pint of beer or, on a sunny afternoon before a grand lunch, I will take a gin martini but otherwise I stick to the Scottish water of life.
And I drink it, I don't play with it. It courses through my veins and it fires my brain. It eases my soul and eventually it sends me to sleep, usually in a coma after BBC's Newsnight. It is not wine. It is not something to take occasionally, to consider or to gargle and then to discuss. It is a great tipple and has been for almost exactly 100 years.
Malt whisky on the other hand is for the dandy, the Epicurean and the romantic Highlander. it's a drink that should never have been allowed south of Hadrian's Wall.
The Victorians who, unlike much of early and mid-20th century Britain, understood and loved food and drink would not and did not have malt whisky in their drawing rooms. It was, as far as they were concerned,...