We were sitting on the front porch of mon maison. Fishing rods with shiny brass reels, grandad's creel, a dented bottle-green metal tackle box, and other implements of marine life destruction were propped up against the railing. I slouched further in my Adirondack chair that my wife had declared, at breakfast, must be painted before winter. I easily peeled away some of the yellow paint with my fingernail and pondered if that chore could be done before it got too cold, given it was now October.
I snapped out of my handyman trance due to the chirping metal sounds of the Tin Snail braking as it turned onto my street. The '72 Citroën DS Break was one pale, sea green, junk fish of a vehicle that had headlights reminiscent of a shark's snout and eyes.
We piled into the station wagon. I took the front seat, figuring Keith would not be be super talkative given Roger's tardiness by about 45 minutes. Whatever, I didn't care. I knew Roger and so did Keith. Roger didn't make it on time for anything, unless you were his date, half his age, straw blonde, and eligible to tryout for the US Women's Olympic Volleyball team. But, he was a Gauloises billowing, easy-going Brit Francophile who was willing to haul us out to a remote fishing spot, expend probably a small fortune in gas, and then cheerfully pick us up at the end of the day, cook up whatever we caught and pair it with a Muscadet, Pouilly-Fumé or other bouteille de vin out of his cellar. I, of course, would handle the whisky pairing with dinner, and also a pairing with our pastime of casting our lures in hope of hooking some din-din.
You want a whisky that compliments the great hobby of angling, but doesn't become a distraction because it is amazingly complex or gag-reflex terrible. The chosen whisky has to be pleasant, able to keep us company, but not too chatty like the software salesman seated next to you on a long flight, or the know-it-all retiree you get paired with on a golf course. Had to be cheap too! All these pressing considerations caused me to select Old Pulteney 12 years Single Malt Scotch. It has a marine and fishy quality without being very complex or expensive that seemed well suited for our chosen leisure activity.
Pretty much one of the cheapest 12 year old single malts available. Frequently discounted by retailers.
700ml bottle, so 50ml less than the typical Scotch bottle. I can overlook this because of the low price.
40% is the bottle I have, but other countries sometimes get 43%.
Artificial Coloring (E150A)
Briny Maritime notes, restrained sweetness, rainfall, damp evening lakeside air, soft wood smoke, smooth peat.
Salty taste of the foaming sea, lemon rind, rosewood, a hint of Ocean Spray Cranberry Cocktail, faint oak.
Short but interesting. Notes of bacon, mackerel, kippers but rhubarb too, ginger and lemon again.
Everything I have read about Old Pulteney claims that it is aged exclusively in ex-bourbon casks. I am surprised because I really think I taste some aging in sherry wood. I really do. A little sherry, dark and sweet red fruits. Hmmm. Evidently I am mistaken.
. . .
Old Pulteney fit the bill as a pleasing economy sipper to accompany Keith and I while we stood quietly on the stony shore, facing the dark blue lake, hoping to land our dîner before the Gallic Shark returned to collect us in his rusty Tin Snail!
Photo Credit: Citroen photos by Jason Torchinsky who is the holder of copyright and all moral rights. His great review of his passion for Citroens available here. All the other photos are mine and feel free to use them for non-commercial purposes.