I know what you're thinking. Ardbeg too smoky? Highland Park not smoky enough? What a jackass! That thought had occurred to me too. I am quickly becoming a snooty scotch jackass. How could this have happened? Then I went out for a steak dinner with eleven women.
This was our office holiday party at Texas de Brazil in Short Pump. For the uninitiated, it is a Brazilian-style churrascaria, one of those places you see ads for in airline magazines. The servers walk around carrying large hunks of steak, chicken, and lamb impaled on metal spits, carving off hunks for whoever has not yet succumbed to the meat sweats. Come hungry, and come when it's on the office's dime, and yes... they have scotch.
I ordered a Lagavulin 16, positively giddy about unleashing my inner caveman whilst enjoying humanity's pinnacle of alcoholic achievement. Ron Swanson incarnate. Three minutes later, there was an ominous tap on my shoulder. "We're out of the Lagavulin, sir. My apologies." I would rather they had been out of meat.
To begin your Texas de Brazil experience, you are encouraged to visit the salad bar first, at which I originally scoffed, wanting to save room for the 'good stuff'. Then I noticed my coworkers coming back to the table with artisan cheeses, charcuterie, marinated olives, smoked salmon, etc. Knowing my Talisker was on the way, I decided this might be an ideal opportunity to try a food pairing experiment.
My Talisker 10 was waiting in a tumbler when I returned. I drew in a big whiff to find a pleasantly strong smoky aroma, like walking by a crackling fireplace. Not so much of that skunk ape peat funk I had experienced in other malts (only 22 ppm phenol according to their 'recipe'). I had no trouble finding its fragrant notes, even in the large tumbler: seaweed, smoked fish, salt. Fruity as well, which was a surprise. Not so much citrus, more likely apple. Well, now I start thinking about applewood smoked bacon. Man, I'm hungry.
That fireplace aroma is actually amplified in the flavor. Deep, rich smoke penetrates throughout. The salinity and peat come through more now as well, along with full bodied malt flavor. A bit of black pepper spice and a shellfish note followed the initial hit of smoke. It dawns on me that this is the experience I was hoping Highland Park would be. Smoky like an Islay whisky, malty as a Highland, the briny flavor of an Island or coastal malt, and the fruit aromas of a Speyside. Each not so understated to try and blend them into perceived harmoniousness, but rather all of them forward flavors. Jackpot!
Time to try pairing this full flavored whisky with food. The smoky, salty finish held up beautifully through several types of hard cheeses (gran padano, gruyere, and manchego), even enhancing their natural flavors. I figured the marinated Spanish olives would pair well with the saltiness, but it ultimately clashed with the smoke for me. Save those for a dirty martini. The charcuterie however, did do it justice quite nicely, the perfect combination of smoke, salt, and savory unctuousness. Smoked salmon was a no-brainer (how very Scottish). There were ceviche shrimp, which are uncooked but rather cured in citrus juice, usually lime. Normally, this goes great with a margarita or a Pacifico, but scotch? Not so much.
The epiphany was the sushi. The sushi itself was nothing special, but all the flavors of a great Islay or Island malt are there: smoked seafood, seaweed, salinity, even the little cucumber pieces seemed elevated. I tried another with a touch of wasabi, and followed with a sip of the Talisker just as my sinuses lit up. Oh wow, you gotta try that! No wonder Japan puts out some of the world's best whisky.
The gaucho meat parade begins. Bacon-wrapped chicken, Brazilian sausages, leg of lamb - all good stuff. Steak is king of the mountain though: flank, tenderloin, and the 'house specialty' picanha top sirloin caps, all a beautiful medium rare. This is when I start hearing whispers amongst the table that grow to outright nitpicking. Out of the 13 of us, turns out only two of us, myself included, would have chosen medium rare as our preferred 'doneness'. A show of hands revealed one rare, 4 mediums, 2 medium wells, and 4 vegetarians. If a swing of a few degrees of internal temperature can make or break your dining experience, why wouldn't a few ppm phenol with my scotch?
I instantly came to grips with my earlier notion that I had become too picky. It's what we all do, and there's no accounting for taste. The medium-wellers began complaining aloud that they can't eat any of the steak because it's too pink. Can't? As in physically incapable? It's steak, dammit! I'm starting to wonder if I'm picky enough.
In the meantime, I found a new reason to go out for steak (as if I needed one). Scotch and steak are made for each other, this was never in doubt. Choosing the ideal one is the key. The bold flavors and eternal smoky finish of the Talisker 10 stood up to every rich bite of red-pink deliciousness, even the ones dipped in chimichurri sauce. I chose the pecan pie for dessert as a natural pairing with whisky, my last sip complementing the sweet, roasted nutty flavors of the pie. I suddenly realized I was full. Very full. Monty Python "wafer-thin-mint" full. Oof.
This was really my first deliberate attempt at pairing a specific single malt to a wide range of foods. Picking Talisker 10 was a fortuitous guess, I imagine the experience would have been considerably different had I gone with something more delicate. In retrospect, I never thought I'd be glad that a restaurant was out of Lagavulin.
Overall Grade: 93/100, A
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