Malts and brews of 2011

By malts I generally refer to single malt whisky, as my legions of intimates know by now. Oh, but for the year just past, I had malt beers, too. And on that score I recommend Craft Pub at The Fort Strip for craft brews, or what are also known as micro-brewed delights — so special with their own character variants, and so unlike all of that well-distributed muzak beer that fuels many lives among us. And engenders gout among many friends.

Last September I attended a craft beer tasting on the invite of Jim Araneta, who’s been responsible for bringing in these welcome imports. Previous to getting acquainted with such delights as the rather quaintly named Arrogant Bastard ale, I had maintained occasional equipoise between my more favored whisky and the more popular brew.

Belgian beer I wouldn’t decline, I’ve kept saying since one memorable dinner a decade ago at a professors’ fine-dining resto at the Beguinage in Leuven. To pair with wild game dishes, large glasses (not mugs!) of Chimay, Duvel and Leffe were served our table, which was also honored by soon-to-be National Artist for Literature and beer buddy Rio Alma a.k.a. Virglio Almario and another premier poet in Filipino, Dr. Benilda Santos.

I’ve since been glad to note that these excellent Belgian beers have made their way to Manila in the last few years. Thanks to Global Beer Exchange and Jim Araneta, adventurous lushes can now also select from an available listing of craft beers, such as what I was privileged to affirm during that Tasting Corner Moving-in Party at Craft, with no less than 10 different bottles of various alcohol strengths and piquant-to-rowdy tastes paired with American cuisine thanks to the co-sponsor USDA.  

Last October when my 25th book, Lush Life: Essays 2001-2010, was launched at Manila Hotel’s Champagne Room, GBEx sent over some welcome specimens: bottles of Arrogant Bastard, Poleeko Gold Pale Ale, and Blonde Bock — the latter in place of the initially intended Gordon Biersch Czech Style Pilsner, which Jim said had only 5 percent alcoholic content, as compared to the Bock’s 7 percent. My fellow Bedans who enjoyed the special craft beers could only be too happy with the upgrade.

Now to the even more real deal. The year 2011 proved to be infinitely generous with an array of single malts. Even as I write this, on Niños Inocentes Day while in suddenly sunny Mactan, surveying a glistening white-sand beach I hope to engage with soon, a bottle of Oban, “classic malt of Scotland” at 43 percent vol. or 86 proof, stands beckoningly on my hotel room table, impatiently waiting for sundown.  

Oban means “Little Bay of Caves” — and part of the alluring literature on the amber brew reads thus:

“Along the shores of Lorn lies a record of man far more ancient than that of any city in the land. The first settlers arrived on the mainland in 5000 BC and sheltered in the natural caves of the land then known as ‘an ob.’ The ‘distillery cave’ was one such shelter hidden in the Creag a’ Bharrain cliffs which rise dramatically above the ‘Oban Distillery.’ 

“Oban’s attractive west Highland character reflects its location, revealing aspects of both the Highland and the Island styles. Elegant and glowing, it marries the sea air character of the Island malts to the soft, richly fruity style of the Highlands, creating its own rich tasting West Highland malts.

“The stills here are among the smallest in Scotland. The cramped nature of the site places severe limits on production, which in turn means that demand for Oban’s richly appreciated malt is always likely to exceed supply….”

Ah, Oban. Ah, yes, it’s been sometime since I last tasted this Classic Malt from Scotland’s six malt whisky making regions — the other five being the Lowland Glenkinchie, the Highland Dalwhinnie, the Speyside Cragganmore, the Skye Talisker, and the Islay Lagavulin.

Thanks to the Fiesta Mall Duty Free Shop that’s run energetically by nostalgia band guitar player Enchong Formoso, I found the Oban once again, just in time for the yearend holiday season.

And it should be the last malt of my year, unless I open the Laphroaig Quarter Cask (now my favorite, edging out Lagavulin) gifted me by that gracious lady friend who administers the sacramental rites at Kipling’s in Mandarin Oriental. And from where I still have to pick it up; well, maybe on the last day of the year, to go with the fireworks display. Thanks so much, Barbara!

The Lagavulin I’ve kept and chewed on for 10 months was a birthday gift hand-carried from Europe by good doting friend Jingjing Romero. It was special, so I reserved special wee drams for special occasions. And it was on Christmas Day that I finally laid the bottle to rest.

Another Laphroaig Quarter Cask bottle I’ve had since the early part of 2011 attested to my noble personal resolve: that I’d only open it and take a fifth, before passing it on to a young lady of Baguio City who also swore by its efficacy. Thankfully, she dropped in on Christmas Day, more to say hello to a son of mine. But now she finally has the treasured bottle, which will wait a few more months, until she gives birth to a daughter she’ll name “Islay.” Now how inspired an appropriation is that?

Early last December, a full liter of Isle of Jura, Superstition edition, with its handsome box and label with an ankh symbol — Egyptian for life — was picked up from the always serendipitous Times Mercantile store in downtown Dumaguete. And it would prove to be of most memorable ingestion — begun at Gabby’s Bistro for the birthday party of best buddy Sawi, and furthered at an Antulang pool villa at midnight, with the moon at slow nightsky passage while a meteor shower went on, and a new whisky buddy spiked up the sweet lunacy.

Oh, there was the dalliance with Amrut, single malt whisky distilled in India! Pronounced “World Whisky of the Year” (for blends) by Malt Advocate Magazine, it followed up on Amrut Fusion’s third best whisky slot awarded in 2010 by The Whisky Bible. BFF Bubot Quicho brought samples from Vancouver last July, and best bud E.G. Hizon and I were only too delirious to help him consume the potent blends (as much as 94 proof!) at yet another bibulous La Regalade homecoming.

Kumpare Sarge Lacuesta awarded our presence at son Lucky’s 1st birthday party with a Nikka Whisky single malt Miyagiko. And early last year, another super thoughtful gift, from Leo Garcia, became the focus of a writers’ homecoming party for Lara Stapleton of NY. We all laughed and cried at Ninyo’s over our communion with Writers Tears, a rare blend from Ireland.

In August, the Smokehead Extra Black Islay, 18 years, 92 proof, salved our grief during the wake for Mom Edith Tiempo. Again, it was another incredible find at Dumaguete’s Times.

Oh yes it was all incredible, the fountain spout of uisge beatha, water of life. There were many more, the parade of Glen Morays from a former president’s buddy who also became mine, the Macallans at Oarhouse Pub courtesy of godfather Mike Marasigan, the Glenmorangie editions, last tasted at the Casablanca cigar and single malt bar, the Bunnahabhain from poet Rayboy Pandan Torres of Bacolod, brought over for the National Writers Workshop’s golden jubilee celebration last May in Dumaguete.

Then there were the Glenmorangie, Glenlivet, Benriach, Auchentoshan, Jura 1810, Bowmore, Talisker, Caol Ila 12, and St. Andrews blend… So much more, but then special memories of a good year continue to unreel that it’s almost unreal. I’ll just have to deal with it. Bottoms up.