Not that they’re necessarily wrong about that you understand, but they must think I’m in a truly bad way if they’re sending me five bottles of vodka at a time. Five!

For all you know, these bottles could be quite large

Actually…

I must confess.

The bottles were only little.

Five miniatures containing samples of vodkas from Absolut, flavoured with citrus, ruby grapefruit, pear, raspberry and vanilla, and with cocktail recipes to match. Not that I think you need much by way of instruction when it comes to drinking these little vodkinis. Inhale and you’ll find them like a concentrated fruit cordial, the pears and raspberry especially so. A slice of lime and some tonic or soda water and you have some adult fruity fizziness (and, after working through the full five bottle range, a somewhat sozzled spud – I am nothing if not thorough in the, umm, research that I conduct on your behalves).

All of this was by way of marking Absolut’s sponsorship of Dublin’s upcoming Fringe Festival and their commissioning of new work for the festival by comedy dance troupe Ponydance. All terribly laudable, though I would love it even more if they sponsored a Fridge Festival. Just a suggestion, mind. Food for thought, as it were.

In the absence of such a thing, you should, by all means, go out and enjoy the Fringe Festival (and a cocktail or two) or check out the myriad events happening around the country on the evening of September 24th for Culture Night.

No fridges appearing on Culture Night either (I checked) – but I see that there is a least one performance that evening in the Kevin Kavanagh Gallery entitled Potatoes, which I very much suspect has nothing to do with eating spuds, but I live (and drink) in hope.

Gie him strong Drink until he wink,
That’s sinking in despair;
An’ liquor guid to fie his bluid,
That’s prest wi’ grief an’ care;
.
.
O Whisky! soul o’ plays an’ pranks!
Accept a Bardie’s gratefu’ thanks!
When wanting thee, what tuneless cranks
Are my poor Verses!
.
.

Scotland’s national bard clearly had a great deal of respect for Scotland’s national drink.

And if you were ever in any doubt as to the importance of whisky to the Scots or whiskey to the Irish, then the fact that we both describe it as Uisce Beatha – or the Water of Life – would leave you in no doubt. So much so that, on my recent travels to Scotland’s Isle of Arran, I fully imagined it to be a breach of some law to depart the island without having at least a wee dram of the “Scotch drink”. A visit to the Isle of Arran Distillers, the only (legal) producer of whisky on the island, turns out to have been a very good choice, and not just because of its Irish connections.

Gordon Mitchell, their now retired distillery manager, previously worked at Ireland’s Cooley Distillery and was involved in the development of their most excellent Connemara Peated Single Malt. While Connemara is unusual for an Irish whiskey in that it is peated, the signature 10 year old single malt produced by Isle of Arran Distillers is unusual for a Scotch whisky in that it is not.

But that is not the only thing worthy of note.

Arran 10 year old single malt whisky

At just 15 years old, Isle of Arran is one of Scotland’s newest and smallest distilleries. Yet it has already made its mark with a clutch of national and international awards to its credit, notably for the 10 year old single malt and their Arran Gold cream liqueur.

Founded by Harold Currie, a former director of Chivas, it is sited at picturesque Lochranza on the north coast of Arran, chosen for its proximity to the pure and soft waters of Loch na Davie.

View from the Isle of Arran distillery

Using barley specially chosen for its high starch content, and applying only traditional methods of distilling, with wooden washbacks and copper stills, their whiskies are evidence that less interference is more character. They do not (as many do) add caramel to their whisky to colour it. Nor do they apply chill filtration, a common practice which removes some of the spirit’s natural oils. While these oils can cause whisky to go cloudy when cooled or poured over ice, they also contribute to the overall flavour and experience of the drink and are best left where they are.

The stuff of Arran whisky making

The result, in the case of the Arran 10 year old single malt, is a fine, pale, smooth whisky, with some vanilla sweetness and that unfailing power of whisky to warm you from the inside.

To quote that other Scottish national treasure, Billy Connolly, it’s what you might call a “wee nippy sweetie”.

So, if you could capture Ireland in a single mouthful, what would that mouthful be?

I think that Pádraic Óg Gallagher, he of the Boxty House, may have captured it perfectly when he drizzled Connemara Peated Single Malt Whiskey over smoked Irish salmon.

Connemara peated single malt whiskey and Irish smoked salmon

It’s like a modern interpretation of a John Hinde postcard. It tastes like you’re sitting close to, or possibly in, a turf fire, an experience that certainly used to go with the territory in rural Ireland.

Classic John Hinde Postcard: Collecting Turf from the Bog, Connemara, Co. Galway, Ireland
(image from www.johnhindecollection.com)

The marriage of whiskey and salmon was only the beginning, though.

It was the opening dish on the menu for the gala Saturday banquet presented as part of the recent Oxford Symposium On Food And Cookery by Pádraic Óg Gallagher, along with Máirtín Mac Con Iomaire and a host of Irish artisan producers.

The theme for this year’s symposium was Cured, Fermented and Smoked Foods and banquet attendees were treated to the full Irish experience of same. Pádraic Óg is the first Irish chef to have been invited to present a meal at what is a highly prestigious event in the food calendar – I only wish I could have been there.

You can see below just what I missed (or read what Katrina had to say about being there).

The Oxford Symposium banquet menu

And finally, on the assumption that you may not have been invited to any Irish banquets lately, here’s how you can create a little taste of Ireland at home…

Apple pudding, hot whiskey sauce, 'nuff said

Winter hasn’t gone away, y’know (like you needed reminding). Neither, therefore, has the need to keep my body warm both inside and out. And while thermal underwear will do for the latter, you still can’t beat a hot whiskey for the former.

The unfortunate truth, though, is that (try as I might) Spud cannot live on hot whiskeys alone – I find that pudding is required at least every once in a while.

What better, then, than a warm wintery pudding inspired by the lemony cloveness of a hot whiskey. A lemony apple pudding with a buttery whiskey sauce, to be exact. Resident sis was heard to say that this may just be my best dessert ever. High praise indeed.

Medicinal.

That’s what I would have said if anyone had challenged me about my supping of hot whiskeys at lunchtime on a Tuesday. As it was, I don’t think anyone in the vicinity was too bothered about my whiskey intake – possibly they were too busy downing hot toddies themselves. Besides, it was Dublin, it was January, it was cold. And the whiskeys were free. I really don’t think you need any more excuses than that.

The whiskey in question was Bushmills (a fine example of the breed) and was laid on at the launch event for the Temple Bar Trad Festival, which will be filling the city centre of Dublin with traditional Irish music in great quantities at the end of this month.

And, really, there is no more appropriate thing to do while listening to traditional Irish music than sink a dirty great big pint of Guinness or nurse an Irish whiskey, all the while ensconced in the cosy familiarity of an Irish pub. It’s no surprise, then, that Bushmills are major sponsors of Trad Fest, which, among other things, will feature a well-packed pub trail.

Temple Bar Trad, coming your way from the 27th to the 31st of January

For my part, I was so happily reminded of the joy that is hot whiskey by the event that I went a-baking with the flavours of hot whiskey in mind. The result? A whiskey apple pudding with hot whiskey sauce, which will get a post all of their own in due course. Meanwhile, it’s time for another hot whiskey, methinks.

Note: There is a print link embedded within this post, please visit this post to print it.

Hot Whiskey

It’s simple, really. Take however much whiskey you’d like, dilute with as much boiling water as you’d like, adding a touch of sugar, lemon and cloves. You need more instructions? Alright, then…

You’ll need:

• 35ml measure Irish whiskey
• 125-150ml boiling water plus more for scalding the glass
• slice of lemon
• 3-4 whole cloves
• 1 tsp sugar

You’ll also need:

• Heatproof glass, preferably with a handle

The Steps:

• Stick the cloves into the lemon slice.
• Heat the glass by rinsing out with some boiling water.
• Add the sugar and boiling water to the glass and stir to dissolve.
• Add the lemon slice and whiskey, stir to mix, and enjoy.

The Variations:

• Dilute to your own taste. Add more sugar if you like or use honey to sweeten instead. Other than that, there’s no real need to tinker with such a classic.

The Results:

• One hot whiskey drink, which may well lead to another.

So c’mon, then, into the spudmobile, seat belts on and let’s zoom through 2009…

First stop, the Irish Blog Awards in Cork. Though it may have been a gloomy, recessionary kind of year for many, happily it was a very good year for the Spud, and not just because of this…

I can’t say that I objected much to being mentioned in the Irish Times either, and, later, having my own words in actual print in the Irish Independent Love Food Magazine. Result? One very happy and humbled Spud.

It’s not all about the glory though (yeah, right), there was glamorous foreign travel too (watch as the spudmobile takes to the air). In May, I scored some fancy potato peeling equipment (and lots more besides) at the International Food Blogger Conference (IFBC) in Seattle. In San Francisco, I ate bánh mì with Greg from Sippity Sup, ceviche and causa with LouAnn from Oyster Food and Culture, and at November’s Food Blogger Connect in London, I ate garlic with everyone.

Causa with purple mash and tuna at La Mar, San Francisco

Closer to home, there was a grand spudmobile excursion to the Organic Centre in Leitrim for their annual Potato Day, where I met Dave Langford, potato collector extraordinaire, and later got to see his impressive collection of spuds growing up at Lissadell House. I was also whisked down to see the Flahavan’s Oat Mill in November and have been on a diet of porridge ever since (it’s not all glamour, y’know). When not gallivanting, I was to be found in the garden, bravely squaring up to the slug barons and earning my purple heart of spudness.

Spudness and the Purple Heart thereof

And, of course, there was plenty of general eatin’ and drinkin’ in 2009.

I stopped off to meet tea tasters, winemakers and cocktail shakers and I raise a glass to them all.

I ate potatoes in their many shapes and many forms and loved my lessons in boxty from a real Irish mammy. Bord Bia, it seems, rather loved my mini cheese, potato and onion pies, while Saveur liked my salt-baked baby potatoes. My potato milkshake, though, was enough to strike fear into the heart of grown men. I can only assume that I must have been doing something right!

Potatoes, shaken not stirred

And, yes, there was lots more besides, but that is probably quite enough for one whirlwind tour.

Thank you all for joining me along the way and hope you’ll come along for the ride in 2010!

It reaches out, grabs your attention and makes you look.

Perhaps that’s why it is the colour of the ribbon which is the international symbol of support for people living with HIV, and why Angela from Spinach Tiger asked us to remember World Aids Day earlier this week by cooking red.

Cooking red on red

Angela has a lot of personal reasons for remembering. I almost feel the creeping red glow of shame that I am lucky enough not to have any such AIDS-related story to tell (there’s Irish Catholic guilt for ya). So I will just remember the stories of others and cook something that I hope is worthy of their remembrances.

That's a lot of bottles to get through, best get started

So there I was, with a few lucky others, being enlightened in the ways of vodka by Mike and Kevin from The Soul Shakers, London-based bar consultants and cocktail meisters. They were in town as part of the Irish launch of both the 2009 Finlandia Vodka Cup, an international cocktail-making showdown, and the Finlandia Finnishing School, which aims to instruct interested barkeeps in the mysteries of mixology.

And, whereas before the masterclass, my take on vodka might have been summarised as “Take water. Take some starchy plant matter. Mash ‘em up, ferment ‘em, distill the vapours. Drink. The end.“, now, I know that’s not quite all there is to it.

I know that the purity and taste of the water matters.

I know that the source of the starch matters. So, despite the reputation that potato-based vodkas have had as being a poor man’s drink, it transpires that it’s relatively more expensive to produce the clear liquor from spuds than from grain. Their lower starch content relative to the likes of barley, wheat and rye means that more effort is needed to remove that which is potato and leave that which becomes vodka.

I know that the distillation matters. Most vodkas use a sophisticated column distillation process, though you will always end up with a little something other than pure ethanol and water, depending on which starchy plant you started out with.

In summary, I now know that vodkas do taste of something after all.

Mike and Kevin lead us through a blind tasting and instructed us in what they see as the 3 broad styles of vodka. There are those with a rounder, more unctuous taste, like Absolut, or with a refreshing character and crisp, peppery bite like Finlandia, or those that are slightly sweeter, like Stolichnaya and other Russian vodkas, where a small amount of sugar softens the peppery hit and is just the thing for straight vodka shots (and, if you’re in Russia, lots of ‘em). For the record, I liked the Absolut best of the pure vodkas, though I think I could happily savour the wonderful aroma of Finlandia’s vodka grapefruit fusion with maybe just a bit of ice and perhaps some tonic.

Mike makes martini

And finally, having been suitably educated as to the raw alcoholic material involved, we were inducted into the school of vodka martinis and grapefruit juleps. Suddenly I felt that my cocktail-making career had taken a giant leap forward.

Dear Spud,

Hennessy would like you to come and sample some cognac and cocktails. Thursday, 3.30pm. You free?

Yours etc.

Notwithstanding the fact that I am not much of a brandy drinker, I recognise free drink when I see it the need to go forth and sample such things for the greater good of my readers. Besides, I am fond of brandy butter, brandy snaps and I’ve even been known to have the odd brandy alexander, so it’s not like I had a massive aversion to the task at hand.

Seeing Hennessy in a new light

So, with my sampling boots on, I headed off for what turned out to be quite an educational affair (honest, guv).

For a start, I can tell you that Hennessy is a thoroughly French enterprise, but was founded by an Irish man back in 1765. Perhaps the name explains why there’s a bottle of Hennessy lurking at the back of every Irish drinks cupboard. Or why Ireland is the 4th largest market for Hennessy in the world after the US, China and Russia. And that’s not per capita, people. That’s 4th largest in total. It seems that other brandies don’t get much of a look-in in this country.

And brandy it is. That particular kind of brandy that originates in the Cognac region of France and which must adhere to strict requirements in terms of its production in order for it to be designated cognac. At the heart of the process is wine which is double distilled to produce a 70% proof substance known as eau de vie. That is then aged and blended to produce various cognacs. Even the youngest of the cognacs made by Hennessy contains eau de vie which has been aged for a minimum of 8 years, while some of the oldest are blended from eau de vies that have been hanging around for anything up to 200 years.

Fair enough, says you, but what about the important stuff. How did it actually taste?

I’d have to day that my first and lasting impression as we worked our way through samples of Hennessy VS, VSOP, XO and Paradis was of a kind of caramel. I read later about the concept of rancio, a taste peculiar to fine cognacs that has indeed been described as being like caramel but a little bitter. There was a definite mellowness with increasing age too and the Paradis, my favourite and the eldest of the bunch, was very mellow indeed. At €325 a bottle, however, I don’t think I’ll be finding any of that at the back of my drinks cupboard anytime soon. We also got to look at (but not taste) the cognac that costs €1800 per bottle. The drinks, it seems, weren’t that free.

Mixing it up

After the cognacs, we moved on to cocktails, for which Hennessy, by and large, recommend using the younger cognacs. So, yes, the bottle that you have at the back of the cupboard will do nicely. Our cocktail specialist, Alan, impressed all present with his mixology. We sampled Hennessy VS with ginger ale and ice which, I have to say, made for a very pleasant summer drink. We had the miami, a union of Hennessy VS, mint, lime juice and sugar syrup and Hennessy’s answer to the all-pervasive mojito. There were several others too, though I think that my head, like the cocktails, was probably getting a bit muddled by then!

To see how the miami is really done, here’s a video that Damien took of Alan in action (and, yes, you do get to see me briefly, off to the side inhaling mint leaves, how exciting is that?). Damien’s post on the event has links to more video footage for those who are interested.

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