Generally, when we write our blogs, we pause only briefly to take a sip of whisky or quizzically glance across the room as we search our minds for a witty synonym. But, this morning, we are drinking water and staring blankly into space. Last night, we had a BBQ.
We hadn’t expected to be drinking whisky last night, it doesn’t feature in a traditional British BBQ. Let us explain. A British BBQ is an annual event to celebrate the British Summer, our favourite day of the year. We celebrate our hot days as often, and with as much fervour, as zoos celebrate pandas mating.
There are more cases of skin cancer per person in Scotland than any other country in the world. This is because when the sun comes out, Scottish people’s tops come off and they bake like jacket potatoes. So, a summer BBQ is a big deal and we had lots of people crowd onto our terrace to play beer pong and eat burgers.
We had a good mix of posh City boys with their pastel coloured chinos and Shoreditch creatives with threadbare shirts that cost almost as much as their ‘Beats By Dre’ headphones. Lots of our friends brought their partners, so it was a good chance to meet new people and we did a lot of damage to the three mini kegs of Hobgoblin Ale. We’d played a few rounds of beer pong before we turned to two friends and conspiratorially whispered ‘are you sober enough for a cheeky whisky?’ While they said ‘of course,’ it was unlikely they were, we certainly weren’t. But it seemed like a good idea at the time. The four of us spirited ourselves into the house and straight to the whisky cabinet.
We’d just gotten a bottle of Hakushu (see our review here) and slowly poured four measures before we put the bottle back. We held our glasses aloft, thinking of a suitable toast for such a magnificent whisky, when one of our friend’s girlfriend walked over, poured herself a glass, tapped her glass to ours and said ‘cheers’ before walking outside. The chirp from the glasses reverberated against the walls. No one of spoke.
‘Surely, that wasn’t the Hakushu,’ one of us said.
‘No, I think it was Johnnie Walker.’
‘It must have been.’
The Hakushu tasted a bit sour in our mouths, but then we got to talking. How cool was it that this girl, who dressed like she spun around in circles, closed her eyes throw all of her clothes into the air and picked up whatever landed on her feet, liked whisky? Just a few years ago, you’d never have anyone drinking whisky at a BBQ. Wine, Beer and Pimms – that’s what made a BBQ. As an experiment, we took a bottle of Laphroaig, Highland Park and Old Pulteney and put them on the table outside. Within an hour, there were 10 people swirling spirits around their glasses. It was a fantastic night.
But we hid the Hakushu under the sink.