OF SINGLE MALTS AND DOUBLE CORONAS...

There are certain culinary combinations that simply call out to be paired up: Milk and cookies. Wine and cheese. Steak and ale. And, of course, Scotch and cigars. Single malt Scotch whisky continues to enjoy increasing popularity here in America, and more and more connoisseurs are discovering the magic of complementing the right Scotch with a top-notch smoke.

I’ve enjoyed Scotch since I’ve been old enough to drink spirits (not before, mom; that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it) and I’ve had a similar taste for cigars since my sophomore year in college. Admittedly, back then, my range didn’t reach far beyond blended J&B and Swisher Sweets Tiparillos, due to budgetary constraints and local market limitations. However, as my horizons have expanded and my disposable income has increased (somewhat) I’ve recently had the opportunity to dabble toward the higher end of these particular indulgences. But like so many others in today’s hectic world, I’ve seldom had the chance to devote an entire evening to the simple pursuit of savoring a good single malt and a fine hand-rolled cigar.

But then, like an oasis amongst the desert of everyday urban chaos, along came the 7th Annual Single Malt and Scotch Whisky Extravaganza, a gala event held at the Sheraton in New York City, sponsored by the Scotch Malt Whisky Society. Based in Edinburgh, Scotland, the Society was founded in 1983 by a small group of Scotch Whisky enthusiasts who discovered the superior quality of whisky taken straight from the cask - unblended, unfiltered, and barrel-strength. The Society opened up membership to the United States in 1993, and their 15,000 members now include over 6,000 U.S. enthusiasts.

I walked from the chilly evening air into the impressive ballroom, well-readied to warm up with dinner and my first dram of whisky. The grand seating area was surrounded with tables bearing samples of over thirty different brands of single-malt Scotch, along with several notable bourbons and Irish whiskies. I sat down with a bit of trepidation, as I was there solo, toting my notepad, sticking out pretty plainly as the token journalist among the paying customers. I wasn’t quite sure what to expect from my fellow Scotch mavens in the way of small talk, having not hobnobbed extensively with people of the financial wherewithal to attend such an exclusive event. Would they simply stand around, swirling their snifters, attempting to out-connoisseur one another? Or perhaps compare Swiss bank accounts? Fortunately, all worries of pretension among these fine gentlemen and ladies disappeared quickly, when the first conversation I overheard was one well-appointed stockbroker type discussing with his friend how many drinks it would take to make Hillary Clinton appealing to him. Ah, whisky proves again to be the great equalizer.

A very tasty buffet dinner started off the evening, padding our gullets for the multiple whisky samples to follow. At my table, I met two gentlemen who turned out to be a father and son from Connecticut. They work in different fields, in different parts of the state, but get together once every weekend to share some Scotch and a cigar. They actually found it interesting that I was writing a magazine piece, as did the trio of boisterous Wall Streeters who sat down with us after dinner (and who, I’d wager, had already helped themselves to a good amount of Scotch), one of whom was wearing a Pez baseball cap with his suit. When I inquired about the headgear, his buddy explained that his hobby was collecting “antique” Pez dispensers. Myself, I managed to sample quite a few of the offerings, taking a particular liking to the Dalmore 21-year old (rich, oaky, and peaty, with a smooth, malty finish), Ardbeg (medium-bodied, well-balanced; smoky finish), Glenlivet French Oak (floral, with vanilla hints; smooth, mild finish), and Aberlour (spicy and intense, with a honeyed aftertaste, the perfect accompaniment to the H. Upmann Corona Larga that I paired it up with).

When the cigars were passed out after dinner, the initial announcement was that all smokers should please move to the back of the room. Apparently, the organizers feared that a stogie-puffing minority would offend the non-smoking majority. I felt like our wonderful parade was finally being rained upon, until I saw the quiet, polite exodus of non-smokers to the back of the room instead; surely, they all must have thought, now is not the time to hinder such a time-honored ritual. The atmosphere of camaraderie and good cheer was as thick and palpable as the fog of aromatic smoke above our heads (one guy said he felt like he was in London). Sipping my last Scotch and puffing on my Upmann, I gradually bid farewell to my dinner companions (I’m not sure, but I may have promised the Pez guy I’d do a piece on him; I hope this mention is sufficient) before I finally headed out into the New York night.

So what did I come away with from this unique experience? Nothing earth-shaking or life-changing, really, but a greater knowledge and appreciation of my favorite spirit; a deeper kinship with my fellow enthusiasts, from all their varied walks of life; and the idealistic notion that life in general might be a little less stressful if we all took time out to enjoy our little indulgences, in the company of like-minded folks, just a tad more often.