Ten

The Cabinet met two nights ago to mark the tenth anniversary (plus two weeks) of its founding. On January 15, 2010, three friends met in the basement of a creaky old house on the banks of the Assiniboine River. The basement was still a couple years away from its renovation and was filled with bulky plastic children's toys and old student furniture and was decorated, perhaps incongruously, with posters from the National Film Board and the Royal Winnipeg Ballet. The intent of this meeting was to explore an idea for a new kind of scotch club. The scotch clubs we knew were all one of two types. The first type were the clubs that appeared to be little more than pretentious forums for the airing of ludicrous adjectives. "I say Reginald, do you detect that shimmering note of finely wadded oregano root layered over the ten day old Hunan tangerine peel zest and mingled with the essence of combusted squirrel penis shavings?" The second type were the clubs that were simply thinly disguised booze-ups. "Bro! Gonna slam some scotch tonight! You in?!"

There had to be a third way. The first type of scotch club was likely to make me vomit quietly into my mouth. The second kind was likely to make me vomit noisily into a wastepaper basket. And thankfully, there was a third way. If you are thinking of starting a scotch club of your own, and you would like to keep vomiting of any kind to a bare minimum, here are the basic principles of that third way:

1) Meet on weeknights.
I know this sounds counter-intuitive, but weekends create two problems. The first is that people, especially with spouses and families, are generally busier on weekend evenings and spouses are generally less happy to see you disappear on your own to "scotch club". The second is that the temptation would be strong to have just another and then another. Having to work the next morning is a powerful restraint. At least if you're over 30 it is.

2) Limit the pours to four.
Four is plenty. After that you're tasting less and less anyway. After that driving home becomes more difficult, if not outright dangerous, illegal and stupid. After that it becomes a booze-up. We all have lots of other opportunities for that. Scotch club is not one of them. Four is plenty.

3) Limit the membership.
It depends on your space, but I have a hard time imagining more than a dozen working very well. Even at ten, conversation tends to splinter into sub-conversations and the atmosphere changes from that of a meeting to that of a drinking party. From an organisational standpoint, collecting dues and scheduling meetings becomes more of a headache as well. A cap of eight works very well for us. This also allows room for guests.

4) Make your membership diverse.
Too many people from one profession or industry is a bad idea. Different backgrounds, different interests and different opinions all lead to more interesting conversations.

5) Charge dues annually to fund the buying.
Some clubs have members simply bring the bottles, but this leads to most of the evening's tasting being from one or, at the most, two bottles. We enjoy tasting a range drawn from the stocks we've built up. Having a single buyer also allows for a better overview of the balance in the stocks. Moreover, the pooled fund allows The Cabinet to buy much more expensive bottles than any one member would likely bring on their own. And it prevents anyone from being accused of being cheap by always just bringing discount blends when it's their turn.

6) Disparage snobbery.
Scotch whisky is a convivial drink meant to be enjoyed rather than described to within an inch of its life. By all means, identify the aromas and flavours, but don't make a cult of it.

7) Don't meet too often.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It does. Every two months is perfect. There's such a thing as too much absence as well.

8) Lock up the stocks.
Keep the stocks in a locked cabinet that is only opened at meetings. This requires no explanation.

And that is more or less it.

To mark this occasion we sampled our ten year old scotches, the Scapa 10, the Ledaig 10 and the Arbeg 10. The Scapa was dark cherry coloured 59% cask strength assault on the mouth, but a friendly assault full of dense malt and caramel, balancing the burn to a surprising extent. The Ledaig was much lighter in alcohol, colour, body and mouthfeel, with the principle distinguishing features being smoke and sweetness, but not to excess in either. And the Arbeg needs no description. I can scarcely imagine a reader who cannot immediately bring to mind those delectable old bandages and burnt tires. Mmm.

We were pleased to be joined by James and Ron as guests and thank the former for his sketch of us and the latter for the marvelous snacks.

Here's to the next ten years! Slainte!