No Place for the Pompous
BY ALEX HENDRY
“I like drinking whisky, cocktails and smoking cigars, sure, but what I like most is being a f*cking pretentious prick about it”, my since deleted 2010 twitter account proclaimed. For years that fleeting sarcastic thought has been cemented somewhere at the back of my mind, illuminating a subconscious belief that everyone seems borderline neurotic about who, how and when we should enjoy whisky.
Does the average person still picture an elderly white male sipping an expensive single malt Scotch, staunchly defending his penchant for drinking single malt Scotch exclusively, until hypocritically making an exception when his similarly pretentious bourbon drinking buddy has a $1200 Pappy Van Winkle he can taste? I often invite friends or people I don’t even like that much over for a whisky and am often met with: “Oh no I don’t know anything about that, it’s much too fancy for me”. There are still numerous whisky and cocktail bars instituting dress codes, judging patrons’ appearances, and fostering that elitism atmosphere that scares away potential whisky imbibers. Whisky has become so high brow and judgmental that the history of farmers and moonshiners making it for trade/selling purposes (and maybe the occasional before the Friday night dance dram) seems to have been forgotten. At what point did someone think because they had a basement full of whisky that their opinion was more significant than a person dipping their toes into that luscious pool for the first time? Do they not both have a unique perspective on whisky, accordingly wouldn’t a refreshing newcomer opinion be just as beneficial? I’d rather hear how whisky reminds somebody of their Grandpa’s woodshed or Oma’s Christmas cake than watch
someone shoot back their rare and expensive dram.
Look, I’ve been there. It’s fun to belong to something special. I was snobby when I first starting pouring whisky because I wanted to feel important and impress patrons with my level of knowledge but the reality is I knew dick all. Yes I understood the process, knew the cost of each bottle, which ones were marketed with wooden
luxury watches or those we used for bar well. I gladly sprinted and shouldered my way to the front of the line at whisky shows when an expensive bottle was opened. The words from the guys wearing designer suits waving tons of cash held more weight than the girls at the tables pouring the drams – not my proudest moment. I’ve also seen my share of
men disregard a female server’s suggestion and ask for mine (the 22 year old male with just 2 months behind the pine) without the slightest consideration that she might have one of the best palates in the game and knew infinitely more than just about everyone at the bar.
17
the whisky explorer magazine
FALL 2023
Made with FlippingBook - Online magazine maker