Counting my blessings

Ah, it’s that time of year. Yes, when single malt whisky bottles add up to a veritable Yuletide tree of life, make that tree of the water of life, hurrah for uisge beatha!

The merry season started with a happenstance of an SMS from writer April Yap, who asked if I’d like to use her ticket to a whisky-themed dinner, since she had to be elsewhere. Hmm. What, me worry and refuse whisky for dinner? Tell me more about it, I asked, senses tingling.

Turned out our common friend Jay Labrador of Wines and Sprits was putting it together, at Cafe Ysabel. Mark the date: 11/11/10. Great. Seemed utterly portentous in a fine precipitous way. And I could even bring a date. Thus sayeth Jay per April.

Didn’t take long to select a charming, lovely teetotaler for convivial care-giving company. Turned out, when we got there and were led to Chef Gene Gonzalez’s private room, the head honcho of gonzo cuisine in these here parts had worked on the sit-down menu himself. As in conceived and prepared every single part of... tan-ta-ra-ran... what was actually billed as a “Single Malt Dinner.”

OMG! OLM! (O lucky man!) HHT. (Hog heaven time.)

Aged for more than 18 years in oak casks, this excellent single malt is the most recent fruit of the more than 30 years of effort at Hakushu Distillery in Japan. Martine Nouet describes it as: “A col-ourful character, lively and dancing on nose and palate.”

There were four single malt whisky bottles of wide variety, with each expected wee dram going down with a particular course. Auchentoshan 12 Years Old, a Lowland whisky, would attend crab three ways (crab cake, crab ice cream, crab cocktail). Then an Ardbeg 10 Years Old, an Islay malt (my faves!), would escort shellfish chowder. Follows the honeymooning pair of Glendronach 15 Years, a Speyside, and cedar-planked salmon with Normandy brown butter nage and spinach gratin.

A break would ensue with taste-cleansing lemon vanilla sorbet. Then would follow Aberlour A’Bunadh Cask Strength Speyside, partnered with aged USDA Argentine-style cut Entraña steak with peppercorn sauce. LOL!

As if that weren’t enough, Benriach Madeira Wood Finish, another Speyside malt, would come a-calling, hand-in-hand with terrine of ice cream and Christmas fruitcake with campfire marshmallows. Now what did I do to deserve April’s, Jay’s, Gene’s and the mystery lady’s friendship? 

But let’s rewind a bit. Since we stepped in rather late, the company around the long table had already coursed through appetizers and aperitifs. Thus did we have some catching up to do.

Jay explained that apart from the four single malts representing blessed Scotland’s four major whisky-crafting regions, a guest had also brought another bottle, a Bunnahabhain, another Islay, if besotted memory serves me right. And it would also be shared and served somewhere along the way. Hmm. That would make five specimens of the golden brew — the only weakness in my otherwise sturdy constitution, er, character. 

But wait, there’s more! To accompany the appetizers were two other bottles, of blended whisky/ey. Note the variation with the inserted “e” — which meant one of them was American: the Rogue Dead Guy Whiskey, from the Rogue House of Spirits or the same guys that have been producing well-received Rogue beers! And the other was Compass Box Eleuthera, a blend from Scotland, which I hadn’t heard of. But which was just as pleasant and soothing for the dewdrop beginnings.

So we started on these, a single shot each in different tulip glasses. That is, I started to catch up — and here’s where a teetotaler for a date enhances the evening doubly. Omigosh, seven kinds of whisky times two would mean at least 14 shots by the time dinner was over.

But the there was Chef Gene’s legendary, double-bladed hospitality. While discussing desserts, someone had mentioned that durian would make a fine handmaiden for single malts. Presto! Chef Gene said he just happened to have a couple of local varieties at hand. And sent out for them, from the chiller.

Jumping jehoshaphat and jiminy cricket! One was the Agoncillo, large seeds but creamy flesh, and the other a variety I only heard of that night: Para sa Pari, which was just as exquisite. Especially since at that point I was already reeling from the spirits. Or should I say despite the pleasant pickling I had already undergone, and was about to cry uncle from.

This columnist appears teary-eyed about leaving behind four more wee drams of various single malts.

Now here’s where I have to gulp down my pride and acknowledge, confide, confess, that I can’t render at this point, in detail, the positive critique I know I should with regards each element of that memorable meal. Because shamefacedly must I stress a virgin experience: I actually gave up on four more tulip glasses with their amber to honey-colored contents. And no, even if you do the math, it won’t tally only 10 singles, as the congenial waiter sometimes poured me a double. What I can do is pass on some of the blame to my driver, who was absent from the premises at that fated hour. 

In any case, I am intrigued enough by Rogue Dead Guy Whiskey to get myself to ring up Jim Araneta one of these days for my own bottle. Jim was at that table, and we exchanged CP numbers, and later I was to learn from Rogue mag EIC Mari Ugarte that they had already featured Rogue beers before, courtesy of Jim, but would love to have an aficionado’s thesis paper on the whiskey. Consider it done, Mari and Jim — once this yuletide traffic in socials and loving and giving and receiving is over.

Eleven nights later, on 11-22-10, the Doreen Gamboa Fernandez Food Writing contest awards were handed out, as an adjunct activity (read: piggyback) of the traditional yearend dinner of the International Wine & Food Society Manila Ladies Branch. This time it was held at Chef Jessie Rockwell Club, and also primarily featured “A Tribute to Glenda R. Barretto.”

Thus did the cocktails of fish roe canape, oyster five ways, sundried tapa with cantaloupe in mini skewer, Ormoc pineapple shake, and dinner of ube bread & rolls with butter and special dip, tinola flan, Pako salad with shrimp, salted egg & adobo flakes, balut surprise, pinais na alimasag, and lechon stuffed with paella in red wine liver sauce served with Alicantino salad — thus were all of these heavenly delights, washed down with excellent 2009 Spy Valley Sauvignon Blanc Marlborough, 2008 Schloss Schonborn Estate Riesling, and 2007 Acantus Cabernet Sauvignon / Tempranillo, rendered as tribute to our queen of chefs, the much loved Glenda. 

By the by, the breakfast-themed writing contest winners were: first place: Liza Vida Cortes Paqueo for “Loaves and Fishes”; second place: Datu Shariff Pendatun III for “Patil”; third place: Therese San Juan for “Almusal al Fresco”; and honorable mentions: Amapola J. Española for “The Egg: A Simple Start”; Sigrid Marianne P. Gayangos for “A Poor Man’s Recipe”; and Christine Nunag for “Paksing Bangus.”

Again, as luck would have it, beside me was one of our co-judges for the writing contest, Mol Fernando, who brought something else special: the Japanese single malt whisky Yamazaki 12 Years, which I had savored a few years back. Trust the Japanese to rival anyone whenever it comes to producing their own chosen delights, so much so that my Scotsmen friends have been getting concerned over how Japanese whisky distillers have been winning international yearend awards for their efforts.

That evening proved echolalic. Two more Yamazaki 12 bottles were to come our way. But before that, a Glengoyne 12 was shared by Apa Ongpin at the National Book Awards rites. A Glenfiddich 12, full liter bottle, was dropped at my door, courtesy of fellow Bedan Delfin “Ding” Wenceslao. And then there was the usual Macallan 18 which is La Gretchen’s fave drink, doubles of which I got to pilfer from a table at Tonyboy C.’s burpday party at Lolo Dad’s (that is, when PNoy and his close-in PSG weren’t looking).

The second Yamazaki 12 was purchased by poet-writer-editor-publisher RayVi Sunico at Narita Duty Free on his way back from Tokyo, and also conveniently found its way to my doorstep. Then a third came by way of Bedan Delfin “Tonts” Amorsolo, who had also passed through Narita from California. He said it was a gift from our batch-mate Ruben Alfonso of San Francisco. Ah, friendship!

That bottle was handed me at Tribu in Makati where batch-mate Aru Gallaga had treated to drinks and GRO company after a formal dinner at batch-mate Ricky Delgado’s. A few days later Aru would come up with a Johnnie Walker Double Black and a Green at our Bedan Xmas Party at the Villamor Clubhouse. And when those two were killed together with the Moet et Chandon and various wines, plus beer, I just had to open and share the Yamazaki. Darn these Bedans, they killed it, too.

Oh, and on the same night between Ricky’s and Tribu, I had also popped in at Sarge and Mookie Lacuesta’s hosted dinner at Salcedo Village, where yet another excellent Japanese single malt made for a first-time taste: the Hakushu 18 Years from Suntory. Sarge said it was from his buddy Mike Santos who’s based in Singapore.

Speaking of which, photojournalist Claro Cortes, also Singapore-based, is due in before gifts are to be opened. He had asked by e-mail which single malt I’d prefer, from a list of bottles he’d seen at a shop. I selected one I haven’t had: the Aberfeldy 12 Year Highland malt, in a lovely squat bottle, too. I look forward to it, Claro!

And at the HK airport Duty Free, I managed to pick up an Auchen-toshan 12 Years for myself. And at a Kamalig art gallery show opening at Gateway, Atenean buddy Leo Garcia handed over what he said was a rare Irish blend: Writers Tears!

FYI per Google: “Writers Tears whiskey (with an “e” cuz Irish) is a pot still blend from the guys who brought you the Irishman, it’s a little cracker of a whiskey, Jim Murray scored it 93. Jim confirms in Bible 2010 that it has Middleton Malt in it! A blend of pure pot still whiskey and malt whiskey. A deliciously soft, sweet, easy drinking dram.”

Maybe I’ll open it on Boxing Day. But it has to be in the company of writers, perchance shedding tears of joy for fine camaraderie.

So am I turning into an alcoholic? Of course not, albeit the lush life I relish. Why, just last week I turned down a glass of good wine being offered by Bobi Tiglao at the Red Crab resto in Clark. It was still afternoon, I said, and my lips don’t touch spirits till the sun goes down. But when it did, well, then we found ourselves at Cafe Mesa, hosted by the fellow lush Mike Marasigan, and Bobi and I just had to help him kill a Glenkinchie 12-Year-Old Lowland before we hit the high road back to Metro Manila.

Hooray for steadfast company!