Can one imagine Scotland without Single Malt and Football? Nah. Well, I managed to experience both today.
Visited the Edradour Distillery in Pitlochry. Edradour holds the distinction of being the smallest distillery in Scotland. Only 3 people are involved in the distillation process in this tiny distillery and it has a princely output of three barrels per week which, naturallamente, is the lowest volume for any distillery in Scotland - reminds me of the old adage that more Scotch is consumed in India than is distilled in this Scotland.
Visited the Edradour Distillery in Pitlochry. Edradour holds the distinction of being the smallest distillery in Scotland. Only 3 people are involved in the distillation process in this tiny distillery and it has a princely output of three barrels per week which, naturallamente, is the lowest volume for any distillery in Scotland - reminds me of the old adage that more Scotch is consumed in India than is distilled in this Scotland.
Anyways, the morning in Edinburgh was a bright and sunny one. Expecting consistency from the weather Gods, I shunned heavy woollens while deciding my attire for the day. Bad decision. As soon as we reached Pitlochry (about 120 kms from Edinburgh), it became cloudy and windy. I suffered in shivering agony for the rest of the day. However, the charm of the city (ooops...the town) more than made up for the cold weather. Pitlochry apparently has a population of 2500 and is famous for 2 distilleries - Edradour and Blair Athol.
After a half-an-hour walk through the woods, where we posed in front of a waterfall, conversed with sheep, and generally gawked at the clouds and Ben Vrackie, we finally reached Edradour distillery (set up in 1825). From a distance we could smell the single malt in the air. We went through an hour long tour of the small distillery where we also got to enjoy a "wee dram" (small taste) of the Edradour single malt. If asked to describe it, I would come up with 'walking along an open meadow with sheep on one side and a waterfall on the other!' But I could imagine Penelope Keith and Peter Bowles enjoying a sip in front of a fireplace in "To the manor born".
The kilted-gentleman who gave us the tour had a flowing white beard and a sense of humour to match. Watching the distillation process, with the wee dram in my stomach, and the single-malt aroma in the air made me totally lose track of the process. I can only remember a few snatches of his tour "....single malts are distilled using water, malted barley and yeast...", "....at Edradour we keep them in casks for ten years....", ".....law requires us to keep them in casks for atleast three years....."
Giddy-headed, we walked back to Pitlochry where we feasted on a heavy lunch in a restaurant off Atholl Road (the main road of Pitlochry). This was followed by a leisurely walk along the river Tummel upto Loch Foskally which had a dam. This dam had a fish ladder that allowed the Salmon to smartly avoid the dam by going through a series of 34 pools!. Greenery all around hurt our eyes. Through the one-platform railway station, we walked back to the town where we spent the rest of the afternoon ambling around and admiring the smallness of Pitlochry. I can proudly say that I walked into each and every shop of the town and was stunned when I saw not one but two Indian restaurants in this wee Town. With the smell of Edradour single malt still in our heads, we turned back for E'burgh.
As soon I reached back, I headed straight for a pub (no no I have not become an alcoholic!) to see the Scotland - France football match. That was certainly the highlight of the week for me - being in a pub with loud, fat, bald, tatooed, drunk scotsmen :) The first half was controlled by the French but 20 minutes into the second half all hell broke loose when Scotland scored!!!!! I don't know the name of a single scot player but I felt sucked in by the enthusiasm (the overpriced beer helped!) and I was oohing and aahing whenever something of import happened in the match :) I was surpised to see a number of lassies in the pub (probably there to keep tabs on their husbands or boyfriends).
Interestingly my 45 minutes in the pub helped me add a few new expletives to my dictionary. I apologize in advance to the French (and Francophiles among you) but I also joined in the alliterative taunt to Les Bleues - "____ the French".
When the final whistle was blown, all hell broke loose and the Tartan Army (as the predominantly drunk Scot fan is known) spilled onto the street.
Finally, intoxicated on whisky and beer, I did stumble back (safely) to my room. zzzzzzzzz...
Visited the Edradour Distillery in Pitlochry. Edradour holds the distinction of being the smallest distillery in Scotland. Only 3 people are involved in the distillation process in this tiny distillery and it has a princely output of three barrels per week which, naturallamente, is the lowest volume for any distillery in Scotland - reminds me of the old adage that more Scotch is consumed in India than is distilled in this Scotland.
Visited the Edradour Distillery in Pitlochry. Edradour holds the distinction of being the smallest distillery in Scotland. Only 3 people are involved in the distillation process in this tiny distillery and it has a princely output of three barrels per week which, naturallamente, is the lowest volume for any distillery in Scotland - reminds me of the old adage that more Scotch is consumed in India than is distilled in this Scotland.
Anyways, the morning in Edinburgh was a bright and sunny one. Expecting consistency from the weather Gods, I shunned heavy woollens while deciding my attire for the day. Bad decision. As soon as we reached Pitlochry (about 120 kms from Edinburgh), it became cloudy and windy. I suffered in shivering agony for the rest of the day. However, the charm of the city (ooops...the town) more than made up for the cold weather. Pitlochry apparently has a population of 2500 and is famous for 2 distilleries - Edradour and Blair Athol.
After a half-an-hour walk through the woods, where we posed in front of a waterfall, conversed with sheep, and generally gawked at the clouds and Ben Vrackie, we finally reached Edradour distillery (set up in 1825). From a distance we could smell the single malt in the air. We went through an hour long tour of the small distillery where we also got to enjoy a "wee dram" (small taste) of the Edradour single malt. If asked to describe it, I would come up with 'walking along an open meadow with sheep on one side and a waterfall on the other!' But I could imagine Penelope Keith and Peter Bowles enjoying a sip in front of a fireplace in "To the manor born".
The kilted-gentleman who gave us the tour had a flowing white beard and a sense of humour to match. Watching the distillation process, with the wee dram in my stomach, and the single-malt aroma in the air made me totally lose track of the process. I can only remember a few snatches of his tour "....single malts are distilled using water, malted barley and yeast...", "....at Edradour we keep them in casks for ten years....", ".....law requires us to keep them in casks for atleast three years....."
Giddy-headed, we walked back to Pitlochry where we feasted on a heavy lunch in a restaurant off Atholl Road (the main road of Pitlochry). This was followed by a leisurely walk along the river Tummel upto Loch Foskally which had a dam. This dam had a fish ladder that allowed the Salmon to smartly avoid the dam by going through a series of 34 pools!. Greenery all around hurt our eyes. Through the one-platform railway station, we walked back to the town where we spent the rest of the afternoon ambling around and admiring the smallness of Pitlochry. I can proudly say that I walked into each and every shop of the town and was stunned when I saw not one but two Indian restaurants in this wee Town. With the smell of Edradour single malt still in our heads, we turned back for E'burgh.
As soon I reached back, I headed straight for a pub (no no I have not become an alcoholic!) to see the Scotland - France football match. That was certainly the highlight of the week for me - being in a pub with loud, fat, bald, tatooed, drunk scotsmen :) The first half was controlled by the French but 20 minutes into the second half all hell broke loose when Scotland scored!!!!! I don't know the name of a single scot player but I felt sucked in by the enthusiasm (the overpriced beer helped!) and I was oohing and aahing whenever something of import happened in the match :) I was surpised to see a number of lassies in the pub (probably there to keep tabs on their husbands or boyfriends).
Interestingly my 45 minutes in the pub helped me add a few new expletives to my dictionary. I apologize in advance to the French (and Francophiles among you) but I also joined in the alliterative taunt to Les Bleues - "____ the French".
When the final whistle was blown, all hell broke loose and the Tartan Army (as the predominantly drunk Scot fan is known) spilled onto the street.
Finally, intoxicated on whisky and beer, I did stumble back (safely) to my room. zzzzzzzzz...
(Oct, 2006)
