You can also read this review at DooYoo.co.uk
Regular readers will know that I came to New York City primarily to attend a Whisky Tasting & Dinner Cruise, featuring over 100 Single Malt Scotch Whiskies, Bourbons & Fine Wines. The cruise was yesterday on September 10. I missed it.
I arrived at Pier 83 at what I thought was exactly half an hour before the cruise departured, only to see the boat slowly pulling away from the quayside – its decks crowded with visitors eager to sample all 100 of those single malts. To say that I was disappointed would be like saying that Jacqueline Kennedy was mildly irritated that her drive through Dallas was interrupted by an unexpected road traffic incident.
I tried calling out from the quay, but was greeted only by the sight of a man in dress uniform on the bridge waving at me and pointing at the timepiece on his wrist. It’s even possible that I got the number of the pier wrong, and that this boat was in fact going somewhere else entirely in order that its passengers might sample some other beverage or medication. I will never know.
Crestfallen, I walked slowly along 42nd Street, and decided that I would console myself by purchasing a fine single malt of my own, and drinking it somewhere very special. A quick glance at my map showed me that the nearest decent liquor store was FWS in West 58th Street, so I set off briskly on foot.
On arrival I discovered that FWS were essentially a wine merchant, not primarily in the business of supplying single malts to the New York gentry. They did, however, let me sample a splendid Armagnac – Marquis de Montesquiou – which is apparently the oldest spirit in France, and is obtained by the clever distillation of white wine, followed by slow ageing in an oak cask.
I have to say it was an Armagnac of remarkable quality and pedigree, so I pushed the boat out and used my rather overstretched credit card to buy a wooden box of three bottles of the 1971 vintage for 350 dollars.
I jumped into a Yellow cab to Morningside Park on 110th Street, and strolled past the waterfall before perching on a wall next to the imposing statue of Carl Schurz, and opening a bottle of the Marquis de Montesquiou. A young white-crested heron swooped above me as I took in the Armagnac’s distinctively perfumed aroma. The lady in the shop told me that this brandy is made from a mixture of traditional grapes from Bas-Armagnac, and also incorporates Trebbiano in its recipe. The result is a spirit of majestic balance and gravity.
I always carry a double-sized brandy glass for just such an occasion, and I poured myself what I now realise was a more than generous measure. Carl Schurz was a Union Army General in the American Civil War, and was also an accomplished singer. It wasn’t long before Carl’s statue and I were engaged in a loving embrace and were harmonising in a moving cover version of Lennon’s “Give Peace a Chance” – while a group of startled Japanese tourists looked on and snapped digital photographs for their Flickr pages.
It was never my intention to open more than one bottle of the Marquis de Montesquiou, but after a hour or two I was joined by a small group of Flemish architects who were in town for a trade show. We chatted on subjects as thrilling and diverse as the Metropolitan Museum and the Ugni Blanc grape, and before long we were exchanging addresses and items of clothing and popping open the second bottle.
My memory is a little cloudy after that. I seem to remember climbing onto some sort of rockery, then bathing in the Seligman Fountain (1914) with a middle-aged lady from 123rd Street, who later invited me back to her apartment for an imprompu supper of fishcakes and rice. When I awoke this morning I discovered that I had made it back safely to the Pennsylvania Hotel, but the third bottle of Marquis de Montesquiou hadn’t. Which is a shame.
Dial M for Merlot 