Wednesday, 25 August 2010

Glenlivet 15 French Oak

I've been pining for a glass of scotch ever since getting back from vacation.  I remember a time when I drank scotch like water.  Yup.  But it's been a light beer filled summer and my recovering liver has been kind of wondering what the hell's going on.  I had ventured far North to Waterloo to restock on coffee and stopped in at their fancy LCBO to see what they had to offer.

I had planned to just make a quick pick-up of some Aberlour 12.  My favourite, every day, yumminess.  Sadly, the barbarians of Waterloo have yet to develop the taste and sophistication to appreciate this fine scotch.  I scanned the shelves for anything new and finally spotted this Glenlivet 15 French Oak.  I like Oak and the fact that it's French makes it a little risqué.  Plus it was a reasonable 60 bucks so I snapped it up.

The first whiff fills the nose with a strong sherry aroma.  Made me a little wary but the sherry nose has proven to be a false prophet before.  On to the drink!  And quite a yummy drink it was.  Instant, oaky smoke and a cool little fireball burns its way down to the tummy.  The aftertaste is a little syrupy but subtle and no cloying tones.  Very nice.

I checked the review at Royal Mile Whiskies and found a very interesting description.  Can't say I found the same things but I'm including it just because I found it funny.

Nose: Strawberries and cream. Vanilla. Heady.
Palate: Firm, slippery-smooth, cookie-like maltiness, spicy middle. Lots of flavour development.
Finish: Creamy, fruity. Like a Slavic sour cream pancake laced with Maraschino cherry brandy.
Overall: Complex. Entrancing.

Myself, I didn't find it that complex so I struggled whether to give it a 3 or 4.  In the end, I decided it's solid yet inoffensive tasting should be rewarded.  Doubt I'll make a habit of buying this malt but it's nice to have something like this in the back pocket.

Solid.  4 shots!

Friday, 20 August 2010


As part of the cottage experience, each of the adults was responsible for making one of the dinners.  Somehow, my sister tricked me into cooking her dinner for her by saying she wanted to deep fry a turkey and then saying she had no idea how to work my fryer.  My sister is very clever indeed.

One of the "safety" features of my deep fryer is a timer that will turn off the gas every 20 minutes unless it's rewound.  I suppose it's there to make sure somebody is always paying attention but I really don't want to be constantly twisting a dial that's directly under a vat of boiling oil.  Previously I'd circumvented this "feature" with a pair of vice grips to keep the dial from rotating.  I'd forgotten to bring a pair on this trip however so I was scrambling to rig up a substitute.  With only a jack knife, a crescent wrench, and a pair of pliers, I was able to come up with this!

Yes, clearly, I am a genius.

Some may look at this photo and say "Why didn't you put the knife handle on the other side of the knob and wedge it into the dirt?  Or bypass the knob altogether and jump the wires?"

To those people, I say: "Shut up."

My sister could barely contain her amazement at my ingenuity.


It's been an interesting week up here at the cottage.  I've learned several things about myself and my immediate family.  Primarily I've learned that there are absolutely no fish in the god-forsaken body of water known as Haliburton Lake.  But another thing I've learned is that parenthood is not, and never will be, my thing.

Don't get me wrong. I absolutely, unconditionally love my nieces and nephew.  But, me, as a parent, would be the absolutely worst thing that could happen to a child.  Why?  Because I'm incapable of letting children have fun.  Whatever the activity, I can only see the potential dangers and they consistently outweigh the potential fun.

All week, I've been the worrier.  "Do you think they should be playing with that?"  "Are you sure it's not too cold out?"  "It's pretty dark out isn't it?"  "The lake is kind of choppy out there."  "It's not very deep at the end of the dock."

All week.  I've been the little buzz-kill bluebird.

And it really hit home that I've been this way my whole life.

My brother has never really shown any signs that he's considered what COULD go wrong with any of his actions.  He's just gone ahead and had fun.  He was into X-Games long before there was such a thing as X-Games.  And I'd watch from the sidelines as he'd head down the black diamond runs, or take the jumps with his bike, or build a half-pipe in our back yard.  I'd watch and think to myself "He's going to break his neck" and then I'd get back to the virtual thrills of video gaming.

The funny thing is my brother has never broken a single bone.  He should have.  Several times over.  But the worst he's gotten is a sprained ankle or foot (like this week on his wind-surfer).  Me?  I've got a broken ankle, broken hand, and torn knee ligaments.  All from "playing it safe".

Makes me kind of sad to think I have this deficiency.  The best memories of childhood are those times when caution is thrown to the wind and death defied, even if it's just in your own head.  That would never happen with my kids.  They'd be sheltered from almost everything.  There would be no danger.  No possibility of injury.  And no fun.

My sister and brother are raising great families.  I admire them for their patience and the values they're imparting to their kids but what I really stand in awe of is their ability to let go and let life happen.  It's an incredibly stressful thing to watch for me but I'm happy that they have parents that are giving them that opportunity.  For me, I'll keep trying to keep my mouth shut unless it's to cheer them on.

Sunday, 15 August 2010


Ok, I lied.  A little more rage.  The rain and an end-of-summer cold virus have kind of made me a little grumpy.  I'm not out fishing so I'm dwelling on the left-over rage of last week.  So....

Who would I have liked to have punched in the face last week?

That girl in the Rogers telephone commercial where they are waiting in line for a movie or something.

It's one of those series of commercials featuring those irrepressible late-teen, early twenties, ethnically diverse, scamps who are boldly experimenting with the latest in Roger's telecommunication devices.  Previous commercials have seen them go on road trips, pack for college, hang out at a coffee house, go camping, and hang out at the beach.  In this entry, the whitest of our teens seem to be in line for a movie or something.

White Boy is busy fiddling with his awesome roger's phone.  White Girl turns to him and says "Let me use your phone to update my facebook".  Ok, dude is obviously using the phone.  You couldn't possibly wait for him to finish to update your status to "is waiting in line"?

Some clever banter follows that help to explain Roger's awesome new phone plans for awesome youngsters.  And then White Boy's phone rings.  He answers.  And then hands the phone the to White Girl saying "It's for you".  She picks it up and says "Oh, that was nobody....No seriously, he's not important at all."

You cunt.

First off, your friend is phoning you on your other friend's phone?  So I'm to understand that this freeloading harpy sponges off her friends, not only for data usage, but cell minutes too?  Fuck you.

And after White Guy hands you HIS phone so YOU can talk to YOUR friend, you chop his balls off completely.  Nice.  This guy must be seven different kinds of desperate because I would have taken the phone back, hung up, and then pushed the fucking wench into traffic.

So White Guy can't be let off the hook either.  Clearly he's enabling her actions.  The phone call was probably from some sketchy guy named Enrico she met at the bar on Saturday night and she used White Guy's phone number so he couldn't track her down directly.  She'll end up asking White Guy if she can meet with Enrico at White Guy's apartment because she still lives at home and Enrico has a wife and five kids.  And White Guy will end up sleeping on his own couch, listening as Enrico brings White Girl to a screaming climax on White Guys own sheets.  All in the hope that, one day, White Girl will notice what a nice guy White Guy is.  Dude,  wake the fuck up.

Ach.  Did I mention that it was raining?

Saturday, 14 August 2010


Been a while since I've posted.  Lots of things have happened that were post worthy but just never sat down to write about any of them.  But, now, I'm on vacation.  Nothing but time on my hands.  So....

Who would I like to punch in the face this week?

That fucking guy 20 cars in front of me driving 70 fucking kilometers an hour in an 80 zone on a two lane highway with absolutely no fucking passing zones.  Is there ANYONE more detestable than the self-absorbed, oblivious, prick leading a parade of murder-pondering vacationers for an hour through the winding roads of the Haliburton Highlands?  No.  There is not.

What does a dip-shit like that think when he looks in the rear view mirror?

"Yup, got them neatly piled up now, Martha.  Maybe I'll take it back a few more kph and REALLY piss 'em off."

But that's it for the rage.  No more angry for at least a week.