Tasting Notes: The Balvenie DoubleWood

The scene: On Monday night, I sat down with my friend Cassidy for a taste of The Balvenie DoubleWood, a 12 year old Speyside single malt. As it was downright warm for an October eve, Cass opened the porch door to the balmy dusk in which bright yellow leaves swirled before wafting to the ground, landing with a crinkle.

The background: The Balvenie Distillery is an old school operation (it’s actually the only Scotch distillery still growing its own barley) that takes its name from the nearby Balvenie Castle. Now in ruins, the castle is historically linked to the likes of Mary Queen of Scots, the ultimate romantic heroine, and Robert the Bruce, the sexiest King of Scots, especially sexy because in my fantasies, as in Braveheart, he’s played by Angus Macfadyen.

The “DoubleWood” after The Balvenie name describes the single malt’s maturation process in two separate wood casks: first a whisky oak cask then a sherry oak cask, with each lending various characteristics. The whisky cask mellows the brew, providing gentle, warming layers of spice, while the sherry cask adds complexity, along with a fruity depth.

The experience: With its classic cream label and rich amber hue, the bottle opened with a promising pop of its cork stopper and the pour offered a reassuring glug glug glug. Raising our glasses to our lips, we were first hit with the scent of honey and vanilla followed quickly by sweet fruit and Sherry notes as we brought our glasses in for a sip. At first taste, The Balvenie DoubleWood is smooth and nutty with a hint of Sherry. An instant later, the flavor swells and surges over the tongue and across the mouth like a rogue wave, intensifying into a luxurious cinnamon spiciness. With a finish that is long, lingering and warming, The Balvenie is much more staying, satisfying and inviting than the embrace, kiss, et cetera of most men Cass and I have encountered.

The conclusions: The Balvenie is a soothing, gentle indulgence from packaging to finish. Even inspiring some philosophizing and waxing poetic, The Balvenie is best shared with close friends on mild fall evenings. Cass and I both went to bed that night with visions of kilted men dancing in our heads.

Fall is in the Arran

There’s nothing like the bright blue skies, turning leaves and crisp breezes of autumn in New York. With conditions outside ideal for Scotch-drinking, I find myself eagerly tucking into single malts in cozy, warm and welcoming watering holes all over the city.

One favored venue is St. Andrew’s Restaurant & Bar, a little pocket of all-things-Scottish in the Theater District. Occupying two-stories, St. Andrew’s still maintains an intimate feel that seems worlds away from the brightly lit, Disneyland-like, camera-toting tourist Mecca that is Times Square, which is just at the end of the block. With its dim lighting, heavy-on-the-wood decor and plaid banquettes, St. Andrew’s takes a relaxed, unassuming approach to Scotch. Its kilted bartenders serve an impressive selection of single malts, along with an extensive list of beers and ales, to a convivial bar crowd. Then there are the tasty eats, from the St. Andrew’s burger to the homemade haggis with neeps and tatties (it’s the only place in Manhattan that serves the traditional Scottish dish).

The ample drams, savory bites and informal yet spirited atmosphere makes St. Andrew’s an excellent spot for a first meeting with a potential suitor. And, girls, just in case your date ends up being a drag, the male-heavy clientele serves up enough business-casual eye candy to go with your Scotch of choice.

While I hadn’t discovered it because of a date or my Scotch passion – I’d first gone for a happy hour Belhaven with coworkers long before I became a whisky hound – St. Andrew’s had become my go-to digs for first date drinks. Over the years, it had seen some of the less than stellar first (and last, in many cases) meetings. There’d been Boring Queens Guy, who it turned out still lived at home with his parents and who wouldn’t even taste my Aberlour; Cute Sports Writer, who won points by ordering a Belhaven and then swiftly lost them with his just-sucked-a-lemon-wedge face after taking the tiniest sip of my Benriach; and Gay Back-Up Dancer, who kept up with me on my Arran intake, who’d met Madonna at Danceteria before she became famous, and who’s been so named because, as Alexei, my gay boyfriend, astutely noted, “There were no straight men at Danceteria in 1982 queen!”

There had indeed been many a bad one. But the Award for Best First Date at St. Andrew’s goes, hands down, to Williamsburg Photographer, with whom I spent a long, lazy Sunday afternoon sipping our way through Islay Malts, comparing, discussing and going back for more. Sadly, a few non-Scotch-drinking dates confirmed that we had little in common beyond Bruichladdich, disagreeing on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the Beatles-Rolling Stones debate (I fall on the Israeli and Beatles side). Not to mention he was a bit too much of a hipster for me. What can I say? I wanted to wear the skinny jeans in the relationship.

As I continue to date my way through NYC, St. Andrew’s will always be my first choice for fall first dates. I’ll continue to wonder what the waiter who bears an uncanny resemblance to James McAvoy thinks as he serves my single malts while I sit at the bar with a different dude each visit. Someday I may even ask him for his opinion on the guys – or ask him out.

St. Andrew’s Restaurant & Bar is located at 140 West 46th Street, New York, NY.