I’m in California this week, working with a music website called Bandcamp. I thought the least I could do was bring a bottle of whisky, so I snuck a bottle of the Jura Prophecy into my suitcase. Of course, my hosts had done their homework, and there was a bottle of Lagavulin 16 waiting for me on my arrival.

The team are having something of a retreat. They often work from home and only communicate with each other online most of the time, so periodically, they rent a big house in Inverness (coincidentally), just out of San Francisco – and stay for a week working together, and just generally hanging out. It’s a privilege to be included – and a whisky tasting seemed appropriate.

We added a Bowmore 15 and a local single malt called St George (made in Alameda, California) to the selection, and we sat around the table on our first night in the house tasting, discussing and comparing whisky.

We started with the St George, which this website describes as a ‘very girly’ whisky, moved on to the noticeably smokier Jura Prophecy, followed it up with the raisiny, rich Bowmore 15 and finished on the Lagavulin.

Of course, it was a bit of a late one and tasting whisky quickly just became drinking whisky. They all had work in the morning – including presentations and tech talks, and at 9am the next day, this was the opening slide.

The Lagavulin was the hands-down favourite, and over the course of the week, we’ve had to open the back-up bottle of that one. I think Diageo might start to notice a spike in local sales after this week.

But while we’ve mostly been hanging out together in the house, I have also managed to get out and about and explore a bit of the local neighbourhood.

I went to a saloon (the Old Western, no less) and I was pleasantly surprised to find Laphroaig on hand, though when I noticed the photographs above the bar of the visit paid to that fine establishment by Charles and Camilla, the pieces fell into place. Laphroaig is Charles’s favourite tipple.

But I’ve tried Laphroaig before, and wanted something a bit more appropriate to the context, so I selected a straight rye whisky called Old Overholt. Surprisingly sweet and smooth.

It’s been a great few days, and sharing the new tastes and understandings about whisky has definitely contributed to the experience of the event. I’ve managed to convert a few new whisky fans along the way, and made a few new friends in the process.

We’re on the isle of Jura all this week, working on an online music project. Whyte and Mackay have commissioned Clutch to be a composer-in-residence on the island, and we’re staying in the Jura lodge, which is right next to the distillery.

The Jura Project is a process of composition and recording on the island to raise awareness and money for the direct ferry from the island to the mainland, which is under threat from subsidy cuts.

And, in fact, while we’ve been here, this has been underlined by the fact that the other ferry that connects Jura to the outside world has completely broken down. In its place, a small passenger boat is taking people to and from Islay, but cars can’t get across – and, more importantly, supplies are completely cut off.

The distillery has stopped mashing, and the stills will be shut off by Friday at the current rate. That’s potentially an enormous loss to the distillery’s production, and a crippling blow to what is already a delicately balanced island economy.

With that backdrop, Clutch has been working with the islanders as well as with some of the features of the island itself to create music that will be released online as a fundraiser. My job has been to capture that process and present it online at http://thejuraproject.com.

Some of my highlights so far have included a visit to the local primary school to talk about generative music composition, and how the children themselves can become part of the music; a Halloween party in the Jura Hotel; meeting resident flautist Sheena Amos, and getting her involved in the project; a scenic drive to the top of the island, and discovering that the lodge is haunted.

We’re here until the end of the week, and intend to have a playback in the hall of the finished (or nearly finished) composition.

Follow the project here.

Off the back of my recent trip to The Glenrothes Distillery, we were gifted with a lovely bottle of 1985 Vintage, which, as it says on the label, has rich, creamy, dried fruits as a significant characteristic. Clutch says Garibaldis, but as that’s not a biscuit I’m familiar with, he might as well have said Geronimos or Galaxians, and I’d have been none the wiser.

But we’re not here just to taste the delicious treats from previous escapades. We have also met to plan a major project coming up on the Isle of Jura.

At the end of this month, Clutch and I will be spending a week on Jura to work on a project that weaves together music, whisky and the internet.

As you may know, Clutch is something of a composer. In fact, he’d downplay it, but he’s actually a really accomplished composer across a range of genres – from contemporary classical music to hard rock. He’s been raved about in the NME as a frontman for the band (x) is greater than (y), and he’s worked on theatre productions, film soundtracks and remixes alike.

He’s been commissioned to be composer-in-residence at Jura Lodge, write and record some music that involves the input of the islanders themselves, and the idea is to release that music online in order to raise money to support the ferry service to the mainland, which is facing funding cuts.

My bit is to report on that process online, and facilitate the internet side of things. It’s the way we work: Clutch does the work, and I blog about Clutch doing the work. The thing that makes that agreeable to Clutch is that quite often the work involves tasting lovely whiskies.

We’ve started doing some video interviews – talking to people for whom Jura holds a special place – and, importantly, a special musical place. The project’s getting its own website, and we’ll point you in its direction once it’s up and running – but rest assured that if you’re remotely interested in the island, the whisky, the people, the sounds and the stories of Jura, it’s going to be something really special.

For me, this is a research project as much as anything else. I’m fascinated in the intersection between culture, music and the internet. Studying this stuff is what I do for a living. It’s a perfect meeting of my ‘professional’ life and my ‘whisky blogger by night’ alter-ego.

And it’ll be entertaining as well. Possibly even hilarious. We’re documenting the whole experience as it happens, so you’ll be along for the ride. And as you may have picked up by reading this blog in the past, our adventures often include what we experience at the time as embarrassing mishaps – or worse. But, as we like to say – ordeals beget treats. There’s always a dram to calm our nerves after an inadvisable bike ride, a golfing fiasco, or being picked up by the police.

And then there’s a story to tell. Which is why we do what we do.

Tonight we’re working out the logistics. There’s too much recording equipment, microphone stands, and so on for a train trip, so we’re going to be hiring a car. It’ll be an early start, a drive up to Kennacraig, a ferry to Islay, and another ferry to Jura.

We love Jura. We’ve been before. The place is really special to us. But this trip is going to be something else again – and there will, we promise, be some really special music and some great stories that come out of it.

Hope you’ll join us for that.

Clutch is out of the country at the moment, and so I had my first solo whisky adventure up in the Northeast of Scotland this week. I was invited to visit The Glenrothes distillery in Speyside to learn more about the process of making whisky, meet the people, sample the food and incredible malts… and specifically to find out about a really fascinating competition that The Glenrothes will be launching on October 4th.

If you’re at all interested in whisky – and the idea of getting involved in making whisky appeals to you – then a week in Speyside working at the distillery, learning all of the processes, and soaking in all of the local culture (including salmon fishing, clay pigeon shooting, and feasting on gorgeous local cuisine) will probably be of interest.

I was in Rothes (not to be confused with the town of Glenrothes, which is elsewhere in Scotland – and the subject of an interesting historical tale you’ll no doubt hear while up in Speyside) for barely 24 hours, and I can’t condense my experiences into a single blog post – so this will necessarily be spread over a series of posts. There’s a lot to tell.

I took a lot of photos, and captured a good deal of video – and so this series of posts should give you just a taste of what to expect when you win one of the week-long experiences. There’ll be more details as we go along, but first, I thought I’d let Ronnie Cox, director of The Glenrothes tell you a little about where you’ll be staying.

Enjoy the video – and rest assured there’s a good deal more to come. As you’ll see – Ronnie Cox is a born storyteller, and as you’ll know – there is no finer type of human being with whom to share a dram.

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!

UK trumpeter Matt Halsall with Mario from Mario’s bar

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.