Whisky is demanding. Unlike a wine or a beer, where the esters come quickly, easily in a swirl of inviting association (melon? citrus? bread?), on nosing a neat whisky you are hit with a harsh wall of alcohol - a punch to the olfactory cortex that leaves you recoiling, with a sharp intake of breath to clear the screaming burn. Aggressive greeting over, that bright, vicious ethanol heat sidles up to you on each interaction - around the inside of your mouth as your mind works to identify the flavours, sketching out and inking in lines between sensation and memory - it burns. Along your throat, as you swallow and contemplate the finish - it burns. So appreciating a good whisky takes both a suppression, and an approach: the deliberate forcing aside of that overwhelming rush of sensation to enquire after the gentler things.
Whisky
Whisky
Whisky
Whisky is demanding. Unlike a wine or a beer, where the esters come quickly, easily in a swirl of inviting association (melon? citrus? bread?), on nosing a neat whisky you are hit with a harsh wall of alcohol - a punch to the olfactory cortex that leaves you recoiling, with a sharp intake of breath to clear the screaming burn. Aggressive greeting over, that bright, vicious ethanol heat sidles up to you on each interaction - around the inside of your mouth as your mind works to identify the flavours, sketching out and inking in lines between sensation and memory - it burns. Along your throat, as you swallow and contemplate the finish - it burns. So appreciating a good whisky takes both a suppression, and an approach: the deliberate forcing aside of that overwhelming rush of sensation to enquire after the gentler things.