We celebrated my mother’s 96th birthday yesterday, so I’m feeling a little nostalgic. She’s a crusty, blue-blooded Yankee whose Dutch ancestors arrived in New Amsterdam (New York City) twelve generations earlier. Her father was English and her maternal grandmother was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, so I guess this is where I get my affinity for scotch. It wasn’t always this way, however, as my paternal grandfather immigrated from Italy early in the 20th century and was one hell of a winemaker. He settled in a suburb north of Boston and had a winepress forged by the town’s last blacksmith. It still sits in my 200 year old basement waiting to come out of retirement. If ever the world is annihilated by way of nuclear holocaust this winepress will be the last thing still standing. Years ago, I talked my father and a couple other family members into making wine. It was an interesting ritual that took place at the Chelsea Produce Market in Boston. The old-time Italians would only buy Zinfandel grapes from California because they had the highest sugar content. Even then, selecting the right brand required a ceremonial process equivalent to joining the Freemasons. The custom involved squeezing the clear juice from a grape and rubbing it between your fingers to test for stickiness. The stickier the better because this meant a high sugar content and, therefore, stronger wine. After an hour of arguing a selection was made and we would then move to another area where fresh, 50-gallon whiskey barrels could be purchased for 15 dollars. It was important to shake all the barrels until you could hear some whiskey sloshing around. This would insure the wood was well saturated to minimize leakage and also aid in raising the final ABV of the wine to about 17%. The only drawback to this recipe was red wine that tasted a little like Jack Daniel’s, and this is where the story finally wraps back around to the Macallan Rare Cask. Initially, I found the sherry influence of this expression overpowering. The first time I sat with this whisky I couldn’t help remembering those whiskey barrels of years ago and their effect on the wine. I know Macallan went to great lengths selecting only the top 1% of their sherry cask aged whiskies for this vatting (most first-fill), but, apparently, they did too good a job. It prompted one of my Macallan-loving friends to ask if this expression was a vatting of whisky and sherry. He didn’t like it much and I also had my reservations. Over time, however, this spirit has really grown on me, raising my rating to a solid 4 stars. Now, when I get in the mood for “heavy on the sherry,” nothing else satisfies. :)