"Do you have any questions?"
I turned to see the Abbey's bartender, Steve Healy, in that quintessential publican pose, polishing a glass. When Steve ascertained that my single malt chops were of an above average level he invited me to sit a table and talk whisky. He placed a pewter cup on the table between us and asked me if I knew what it was. "A quaich," I answered. And then he quizzed me on the purpose of this ceremonial drinking vessel of the Scots.
Members of your family or honored friends and guests were allowed to share from the cup. At weddings, according to Steve, the wedding party would all drink from the quaich with the last sip taken by the groom who would then kiss the bottom to seal the marriage.*
Steve was featured in a Golf Digest article dedicated to exploring the proverbial "19th Hole". His encyclopedic knowledge of whisky has earned him the nickname "Malt Disney." Steve bartended a private dinner the next dinner where I was a guest and he honored me by building a wonderful vertical tasting of a trio of single malts, all served in the quiach. Despite the suggestion that I must be drinking out of the dog's bowl, I educated my LAZ friends and soon had them sharing a sip of the water of life.
During the course of the evening I had four generous measures, tempered with wonderful food, and two Payne-Mason Corojo cigars, a seven hour endeavor.
Thanks to Malt Disney for a wonderful evening.
We began with Bowmore, a rather light Islay whisky, moved to The Balvenie, and topped off the evening with Oban.
Slainte.
The Neighbor
On my way to Rhode Island, I made a brief stop in my hometown of Chicago, IL. Determined to keep my string of consecutive days working out intact, I donned shorts, teeshirt, and running shoes and did a brisk 4-mile walk. My folks live in Chicago proper, near Chicago and Western avenues, two of the major arteries in the city of broad shoulders. The neighborhood is in the process of gentrification, with the original cottages-type homes, two- or three-flats, and bungalows being razed to make room for three-storey single family dwellings, usually made of stone or granite.
The house shown below is on the 2300 block of Huron Street, a "side-street" in Chicago parlance.
This is, as they say in museum parlance, a permanent display. A closer examination revealed that this army of stuffed gee-gaws was weather-beaten. This wasn't their first rodeo. Notice the huge paving stone that anchors the lawn chair upon which is seated a member of an unknown avian species with Hispanic leanings. Not to be aoutdone, a bulky red coat is perched in a plastic chair made from recycle water bottles. Negotiating the stairs to enter the house appears to require the nimbleness of the Walendas.
But can you imagine if this was YOUR next-door neighbor.
Here is the poster-child for a good set of CC&Rs (Convenants, Conditions & Restrictions). Almost makes you nostalgic for the branch of the Dukes of Hazzard family that merely did major engine overhauls in their front yard.
*Do Scottish Jews wrap the quaich in linen and stomp it? I don't know. This may require more research. This research would require more drinking from a quaich. In the words of my buddy Greg Strangman, "It's all good!"
