I often find myself taking a defensive position when I disclose
to acquaintances or some stranger in a pub that I drink a wee glass of whisk(e)y
several times a week, or even every day. More often than not, this comes as
a shock even to those who are, as yours truly, in their mid to late 20's. One
would think individuals in this age-group holds a more relaxed attitude towards
alcohol, and would therefore sway from the older generation's swift condemnation
of such a self-destructive habit.
The problem is, predictably, that they all think I knock
back a truck-load worth of the amber nectar each month. It doesn't occur to
them that a high proof spirit can be enjoyed and savoured as a life-affirming,
highly enjoyable potion that can restore one's spirits (no pun intended) and
be an impassioned every-day luxury even when consumed in moderation.
Has
cultural differencies and background to do with it? I suspect so. Sweden, my
homeland, have for more years than I can remember had a rigorously Orwellian
stance on the selling and consumption of alcohol. The only outlet available
to us is the state owned retail-chain and every litre of alcohol is taxed 196
SEK (app. €20) on top of the purchasing price. If you are keen on a glass
of Ardbeg when strolling down the aisles of the local supermarket on a Saturday
night, you will not find this finest of whiskies neatly lined up on any shelf.
There's a sense of guilt that permeates the view we Scandinavians
have on alcohol and drinking habits. Therefore I am rarely offended by the suspicious
and oft-times derogatory looks and snarls I get when admitting I drink as regularly
as I do. Hey, Ill say, amidst loud voices and excessively
Vodka-fueled bar-attendants, One glass holding 3-4 centiliters of malt
or bourbon doesn't put me in the same company as a near-death intoxicated Dennis
Hopper, sloshed Dorothy Parker or any of the homeless winos lying in a ditch
singing their praise to drunkenness. This reassuring remark doesn't settle
well. Uhum, yeah. theyll respond and take another sip of their
Vodka mixed with Red Bull.
In retrospect, why the Hell do I bother? A sense of pride
perhaps, as if I am the leader of a malt army and need to defend the troops
consisting of struggling Speysiders, Islays and bourbons. I attempt to persuade
others of the magnificence of whisky, I want them to see the light, too. To
no real avail.
To some extent I understand their doubts. The fact is that
an alarming majority of Scandinavians use any type of alcohol for the sole purpose
of being completely soused. Enjoy a liquid with an ABV of + 40 % and not using
it as a means to an end? C'mon. they snigger, You sound like
my granddad. Or are you using the stuff to impress the ladies?.
The counter-move to this type of attitude has in recent years
seen some success especially in Southern European countries. Single malts in
particular have partly started to loosen up the meagre and sceptic attitudes
of the average Fred and John who used to be familiar with Jack Daniels (wrongly
calling it a bourbon) and maybe Famous Grouse. You dont have to be middle-aged
or a pretentious snob to appreciate whisky. For my fellow countrymen in my age
and younger, theres still a lot of work to do before any acceptance will
be in sight. But dont we know it: whisky, the finest of spirits, deserves
to be recognized as a means, and not an end.
In the meantime, Ill confidently pour myself a glass
of Ardbeg 1977, well knowing there is a world of difference between serene Zen-like
indulgence and rampant binging. Ill raise my glass and chuckle ironically,
Thank you, whisky-ignorants, for not drinking this liquid love. That means
theres more for me..
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