TASTING whiskies can be a clinical, prosaic task, nosing and assessing, jotting notes, reconsidering, lips compressed in concentration, brow furrowed. Yet, as the spirits panel tasted 20 single malts from Islay, we reminded ourselves to step back a moment, to contemplate with no small amount of awe the magic of what was in the glass. – The New York Times, From Scotland, Fog and Smoke, and Mystery
See also from the Princeton Architectural Press Instant Expert Series: Whiskey by John Lamond
Not to mention the magic of the glass itself. The first time I realized I liked Scotch was at a party thrown by The Stranger at the newly-minted Seattle Public Library. Back in 2005-ish, when I was still in grad school. I was standing around, mingling, when someone in our group said, “Hey, could you hold this for a minute?” handing me his cheap, plastic tumbler half-full of Scotch, on the rocks. He never came back, so I finished his drink for him, the foggy, smoky amber of the whisky leaving a lasting impression on its way down my throat. This despite the fact that I was drinking it from a cheap, plastic tumbler. I wish, though, that my inaugural experience with Scotch had been via a Glencairn Glass, one designed specifically for tasting Scotch. It would have tasted even better, I’m sure.