On our recent visit to Edinburgh, we did as every good tourist should and paid a visit to the Scotch Whisky Experience, which is at the top of the big hill, next to the big castle, opposite the big hall of mirrors.

There are lots of reasons to go there – not least of which is the opportunity to go on a ride – a proper ’sit in a barrel and hold on’ ride that takes you through the whole experience of whisky being made – but the twist is, that you are one of the ingredients, though we will keep an air of suspense and mystique about which particular whisky ingredient you play the role of (we can’t remember).

There’s also an introduction to the flavours and aromas of whisky, as well as a tasting, a gift shop and a lovely café/bar – but for us the highlight was the largest collection of Scotch single malts and blends on the planet. As Clutch put it, it was like his Fortress of Solitude: a perfect retreat from the world, surrounded by amazing, rare, special and – importantly – floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall whiskies.

What was surprising was how well it had been done. It wasn’t tacky and showy – and nor was it a fusty museum piece. The individual whiskies – and there were almost 3,500 bottles in the collection – were beautifully displayed, each discernible and examinable – and the totality of that collection (officially, the Diageo ‘Claive Vidiz Collection’) was quite overwhelming.

We had to sit down and have a dram to recover from all the awesome.

Make sure you go there if you’re in town.

Nauvo in the Turku archipelago

I’m across in Finland at the moment for a project based on The Kalevala. Luckily for me, I have a good friend, Tomas, who’s kindly putting me up during my stay, thus reducing the not-insubstantial cost of living whilst over here. He’s also responsible for some of the best photography I’ve seen, and having offered to document my trip, I thought it only fair that I bring some whisky over with me. Several bottles in fact.

Here’s what I arrived with:

Old Pulteney WK499
Talisker 57° North
Benriach Curiositas
Bunnahabhain 34 Year Old
Glenglassaugh 1973 Family Silver 25 Year Old
Isle Of Jura Paps The Sacred Mountain Barolo Cask Finish
Balvenie Single Barrel 15 Year Old

Admittedly, the last four on that list were small sample bottles, but as whisky is at a premium here, I was immediately popular in the Whitehouse household.

As we’ve been saving some of each back for Tomas’ girlfriend’s father, who’s a big whisky fan, we’d found it necessary to buy a couple of extra bottles; a Caol Ila 12 and an Ardbeg 10. The only place you’re permitted to buy wine and spirits (other than in a bar or restaurant) is the state run off-licence called Alko. The hike in price, for whatever reason be it import cost or tax, equates to roughly an extra tenner on a bottle, and in a bar a single of Laphroaig, for example, is a shade over seven quid. Make no mistake, Helsinki is an expensive place to be a malt lover.

However, the sub-zero temperatures almost demand a dram. Coupled with the sauna culture, where it’s de riguer to bake yourself to a crisp, then thrash about in freezing snow, no matter how much you drink, you do not experience the drunkeness that you’d expect with such consumption. I must make it clear, that the intention was never to get absolutely ratted, but that in visiting an old friend, you do end up having slightly more than your recommended units.

Whisky is something that should always be treated with respect, and I for one, shall be having an almighty detox upon my return home.

A warming dram in a cottage in Nauvo

But in the meantime, Sláinte!

Another tale of European travel.

I was in Genoa in the northern part of Italy a week or so back, and as is my way, I decided to go looking for a single malt. To my delight, it seemed that every bar in town had a genuine Scottish single malt whisky.

To my dismay, they all carried the same single malt whisky, it was cheap, abundant, a mere 5 years old – and not one I’d encountered in Britain.

I was a little surprised to find it somewhat unremarkable. I thought it’d be downright awful. Still – it was 2am, I was hanging out with musicians, I didn’t know the Italian for “no ice, please”, and they were pouring generous measures. I was delighted to find a single malt at all – not least of which one that was perfectly palatable.

And when I say generous measures, we’re talking easily 150ml. With a handful of icecubes on top of that, we were more or less filling the tumbler.

As the reviews mention – it’s fairly insubstantial. Not unpleasant by any stretch of the imagination – but a quaffable malt.

And for some reason, you can be pretty much assured that you’ll find it in any bar you walk into in Northern Italy. But personally – I recommend Mario’s Bar.

Apart from the big, prominent TV, the bar is incredibly relaxing. Mario himself is friendly and generous – and will recognise you and talk to you at length whenever you go back there.

He’ll only talk to you at lenght in Italian of course, so I’d just smile and nod whenever he did that – but it’s all enthusiasm, beaming smiles and welcoming gestures from him, so that’s good enough for me.

I’m sure that bottle in the picture was full when we arrived…

I’ve been doing a little travel lately, and have found myself in some interesting places. And while the travel itself wasn’t whisky-related specifically, I did take it upon myself to at least inject a bit of a whisky theme into the proceedings.

I was in the North of Holland doing some (un)consultancy and was taken out to dinner in Leeuwarden by my hosts. I thought I’d check the wine list to see if there were any interesting drams to be found – and sure enough, Frysk Hynder was on the list.

It’s the only Frisian single malt there is, and production numbers are small – as low as 77 bottles a day. The lid has a distinctive horse statuette sticking out of it, so it’s hard to miss if you do ever encounter it – and there is glassware specifically made for it.

Frysk Hynder is young – so young, in fact, that it can only just legally be called whisky. It’s 3 years and one month old, judging by the hand-written information on the label.

And yet it was really smooth. Heathery, a little honey – and a very light body. Sounds like I was lucky. The general consensus seems to be that it’s usually pretty awful – but the variation on that is enormous.

Personally, I liked it – and next time I’m in Groningen I’ll pick up a bottle. I was pleasantly surprised, and more or less delighted that (at that age) it wasn’t downright paint-strippery.

So, the paternal readership of this will probably be curled up on the sofa with the Sunday papers and a dram in their hand… Doesn’t get much better than that really, eh?

But wait…. Yes it does!

We’ve just been alerted by the lovely people at Jura Distillery, that they’re offering a trip for two to Jura Lodge.

Yes, you too can re-enact the shambolic happenings that we forced the patient locals to endure – or, perhaps you can behave in an altogether more civilized fashion, and restore their faith in humanity…?

Regardless of your course of action, we guarantee that you’ll have a wonderful time amidst some of the most bewitching scenery Scotland has to offer.

There will also be some pretty spectacular whisky involved.

To enter, all you need to do is check out the official blurb:

“Stories, myths and folklore abound on Jura. To sample its idiosyncratic delights first hand we’d like to hear one about you and your father. In 300 words or less weave a tale that involves the pair of you, a little luck and perhaps some Jura. That done and you could be the very fortunate recipient of a stay in the eclectic and unforgettable Jura Lodge on the island itself. It’s a place like no other on an island like no other.”

So get typing, entitle your email “Father’s Day Tale”, and send it to info@isleofjura.com before the 1st August 2009, and if you win, you have to take me. That’s in the rules.*

*It’s not actually in the rules…

I was in Manchester for the past couple of days, I took a stroll around, and I was intrigued to find a pretty cool-looking specialist wine shop. Thought I’d pop in to see if there’s much in the way of whisky on offer.

Ben Stephenson from Hanging Ditch was kind enough to introduce me to the Compass Whisky range of artisan blends. To be honest – I knew about them, but had never tried them before.

I tried the Asyla, the Hedonism (limited release), the wonderful Peat Monster – and a strange concoction called Orangerie, which is an infused whisky – orangey and with cloves.

Trouble was, I really only had a chance to have a quick taste, it was ten in the morning, and it would have been great to have Clutch on hand to compare notes as well. But I really appreciated the indulgence of Ben, and the chance to get a taste for a series of blends I’d been looking forward to trying.

I’m really looking forward to next Friday night’s Twhisky blends tasting. I’ve always been a little cautious about the blends, but I’m quickly learning there are some great flavours lying in wait down that particular path.

Of course, while we were in Jura, it was the beginning of the Islay festival: the Feis Ile, for which the distilleries on the island tend to do special bottlings. We were very keen to get our hands on one or two.

Of course, when you’re the guest of one distillery, you have to use cunning in order to nip out to go shopping for another distillery’s wares – even on special occasions like this. So on the bus ride back from Jura, over on the ferry to Islay, and then to the Islay airport from where we were headed back to Glasgow, we made excuses and pleaded to be allowed to stop to pick up “some sweets” for the journey.

Alex, the bus driver was more than happy. We think Cara, the Jura brand manager may have been somewhat suspicious, but we think we might have got away with it. Especially with that inconspicuous bag Clutch was waving around.

Press play, then click the little ‘arrows’ button on the bottom right hand side to see the shots full-screen.

I experienced my first ceilidh (pron. kaylee, apparently) last night. Not having been brought up in the kind of place that has ceilidhs on a regular basis (or indeed, any basis at all), it was something I’d heard of but had not experienced.

I thought I had a fair idea what one might involve. I had seen them turn up in the odd old film, but I had expected it merely to be a dance – a town social. Like those old fiddle and accordion affairs, only updated and with a DJ. But there was deep tradition and a kind of unchanging community spirit embodied in the Jura ceilidh that I’d not really seen in any other context.

And it was joyous. Madness set to violins and accordions.

It’s the kind of thing that makes somewhere like this so magical. It’s not just that everyone was cutting loose and having a great time – that happens in any nightclub in any town all over the world. It’s that it’s an all-embracing, chaotic, ecstatic celebration of what it means to be an islander – a Diurach.

Nobody was trying to be cool. Everyone was everyone’s best friend. Everyone was there to not only enjoy themselves, but to make sure everyone else enjoyed themselves. And everyone did – immensely.

As the Polish waitress who had served us at dinner said to me, after finally convincing me to dance (and believe me when I say – I REALLY don’t dance): “THIS is why I come here every summer.”

By the way, make sure you stick around to the end of the video for some Clutch-dancing.