SELF PROMISES

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS

Every year that passes and a new one starts, there is always the nagging 
ever-illusive New Year’s Resolution that draws my attention.  
Years of experience tell me my list must be short to be effective. 

When fire-works signified that 2013 was here, mentally the list was already 
forming only to die a short death before the night was through.  
What was it, that was so hard to promise, and then broken to smithereens in the
 space of less than 6 hours. Undeniably shameful, I bow my head and
 submit to self-beating with the knowledge that it is still the first 
week of January and I can redeem myself to 
becoming a better person.

To succeed is to fail, fail and fail again.   So having failed miserably for 
more than two decades, I decided that this is going to be my year, and have 
foolproof resolutions thus emerging  a worthier individual, 
accomplished, enlightened, disciplined and very focused.

I will only attempt two simple resolutions. 
One of which is to stick to them.

So what's yours?

GOING COMMANDO IN THE HIGHLANDS

Of Kilts - Men and Malts

The fascination of men in Kilts emits a little nudge and wink from me, who unashamedly every now and again, goes commando too, without the slightest bit of twinge, and no one is ever the wiser.

However, my captivation goes beyond kilts.  The Scottish persona is fascination by itself.  Stoic, tough, no nonsense attitude, generosity with the heart but frugal with the purse, has a great sense of humor, produces the most artistic and clever entertainers.  My heartthrobs range from Sean Connery to Ewan McGregor with Rod Stewart in between.  Billy Connolly tickles my funny bones, and Jackie Stewart speeds up my adrenalin.

Sir Sean Connery

Rod Stewart

Ewan McGregor

But the discovery of their delectable liquid amber, Scotch Whisky has me weak at the knees.  Sometimes, quite literally.  Few men have done that.

For wine lovers, wine tasting vacations like Napa Valley are dream holidays.

For Scotch Whisky lovers like myself, touring the Highland and the Lowland Whisky Trails in Scotland would be my paradise vacation.  Now if I was a big, strong Scottish lass, use to the rough weather and hardy lifestyle, a wee dram would be a normal choice of drink.  But because of my petite Asian profile, small boned and quite vertically challenged, (a polite way of saying short) this defies the simple logic of my small body’s absorption of alcohol.  You see, my consumption exceeds what a small frame person can take.  

Rather than show off my drinking capacity, which is not what this is about, let me show you the types of malts and men there are in the highlands and lowlands. 

Scotch malt whiskies are divided into five main regions, Highland, Lowland, Islay, Speyside and Campbeltown.  I am a wee bit  bias on Highland single malts and can sing raptures on them to Kingdom come. 

Cardhu Country House

Cardhu Country House in Speyside is where we park ourselves for a short two days for a mini Whisky Trail.   It is a great place to stay, with such a warm welcome from wonderful owners.

The temperature outside checks in at 4°C and forecasted at 1°C by lunch time.  The morning starts off with  a good Scottish breakfast, Porridge with Whisky and cream, is perhaps not my normal cereal starter but the brown sugar sprinkled over thick cream with a jigger of whisky was sensational.   This will definitely keep me warm.

The next course was buttered Scottish Moray coast kippers, served with brown bread. If you have never had kippers, be prepared for something extraordinarily delicious.  Salted and smoked over smoldering oak chips, it is pan-fried with butter. 

Downing my third cup of coffee, I am ready to put on my coat and boots for the Whisky trail.   But alas, the Scots take breakfast quite seriously and my third course is a beautiful cheese omlette done to perfection.  A small bowl of fruits followed with more coffee  –  please this is more than enough….wishfully thinking that I would never need another meal until the morrow.  How foolish to think that in this cold weather, the body requires solid sensible replenishing of fat, proteins to keep warm and line the stomach for my whisky trail expedition. 

The Whisky Trail for me started a little further away from the Country House, for my love of the MacCallan single malt has been voted as the top choice.

Tasting note by the Sunday Times Whisky Club quoted MacCallan as “A rich aroma of Christmas cake, winter spices and leathery Cognac form an enticing nose. The palate is silky with notes of apple fruits and rum-soaked sultanas. The finish is long and honeyed with hints of tangy stone fruit.”   I couldn’t agree with them more. 

There is one problem when taking part in a Whisky tasting tour, because when sampling the best Whiskies like fine wines, whisky has a much more powerful effect for it is indeed much stronger.   Savouring a single malt one after another can have a disastrous effect, so each day is strictly curtailed to only three distilleries at best.  

Angus

My Scottish drinking buddy, Angus, wears a kilt and with a wink, informs me that he is a true red head!  I did not doubt him.  A strong man with ruddy features,  has a softer sing-song Scottish accent that I can easily understand. He will make sure I will still be standing up straight by our last distillery visit of the day.  We tossed a coin, his favorite Distillery or mine?  I won.  Assured of his commitment,  I fell straight into my favorite Whisky.

Minstrel Barley grown for the Macallan must be low in nitrogen and high in starch, it is a variety grown exclusively to ensure rich flavor.  The second most important in whisky making is “water”.   Macallan has their own spring deep beneath the ground of the Estate.  The “finest cut” from slow distillation is the best of the best.   I am bias in my taste of single malt for it must have a darkish amber colour.  This is achieved by using oak casks seasoned with Sherry.

At 59.6% my favourite of the Macallan The Library series Cask no. 14007 has a reddish mahogany colour, beautiful oak hint with raisins, apples taste  leaving a long lingering full taste.  To affirm the taste, I needed a second dram and then a third.  Dutifully satisfied, with a bounce in my step, I parted a few pounds for a couple of bottles to take back.

Malt Masters tasting 50 year old Glenfiddich

Our next stop, is “the valley of the deer” – the Gaelic name for  Glenfiddich.  I was introduced to this wonderful dram on a trip to the Isle of Eriska, near Oban a few decades ago and it proved to be the start of my odyssey of tasting and savoring single malt whisky Glen by Glen.

Angus, my whisky buddy, can definitely take numerous shots.   Glenfiddich being his favorite, we lingered longer.   The tasting gets quite serious now as the subtle taste of  Glenfiddich’s 30 year old was produced.   The malt master personally tastes every cask and mixes them to have an exquisite taste of sherry, fig and seductive dark chocolate taste.   We then moved onto the 40 year old and found the difference to have infinite richness and harmony, for they choose exceptional casks and marries it with remnants of previous 40 year old vattings.   Whilst I am doing relatively fine, although the knees are a wee bit wobbly, buddy here is rapidly dwindling; perhaps he didn’t have the breakfast that I had.

Fresh cold brisk air hits us as we leave the distillery, a decision to walk back was a good choice.   For a dinner party awaits us back at the Country House, a brisk walk was the perfect solution to clear the head, get back an appetite for a scrumptious Scottish meal.   My host was adamant that I must try Haggis before I leave Speyside, not a dish I am fond of but will give it a fair trial.

We must dress for dinner, so resplendent in my one and only black off the shoulder Armani gown, and still giddy from my day’s whisky adventure, I join everyone in the log fire reception hall.   Angus has changed into his McGregor Tartan Clan kilt, purple green with pink stripes and a beautiful tailored jacket, and strategically placed is a curious pouch called a Sporran.  Maybe a Sporran is something to protect vulnerable parts of the body since we all know the myth of a bare and naked underbelly of a Scotsman.   I will find the courage to ask.

Haggis Neaps & Tatties

The first course served, was the dreaded Haggis.  Described as Haggis, Neeps and Tatties stacked with whisky sauce;  perhaps, I wildly thought, the sauce will douse other flavors not to my liking.   I have to explain.  Haggis is a pudding containing sheep’s heart liver and lung minced with onion, oatmeal, spices and stock,  incased in sheep’s stomach simmered for a long time.   Now you can understand the necessity for the whisky sauce.   This is served with mashed turnip and mashed potato. 

Hungry as I was, and having unappealingly described it, Haggis is surprisingly tasty, with a nutty texture with a delicious savoury flavor.  The whisky sauce did indeed hide some unpleasant parts.  It is very much a man’s meal, not for the light hearted or delicate stomach.  Angus polished off his plate and grinned knowingly at my aversion to the appetizer for partially finishing mine. 

The next course was a beautifully prepared pan fried sea bass, dauphinoise potatoes, green beans, and grilled tomatoes.  I was a happy lass finishing all that was on my plate.

Dessert was pure delight.  Rhubarb fool with ginger meringues.  A platter of cheese was passed around but I found no more room and looked forward to a chance to show off my Scottish highland dancing I had learnt from earlier days.

Determined not to lose a day dedicated to hangovers, I plunged into a two mile jog the next morning.  Truly a gargantuan effort but it paid off for arriving back to the house, my counterparts were worse for wear and couldn’t face another Scottish breakfast, let alone watch me tucking into eggs and bacon.

Ardbeg Distillery - Islay

The next whistle stop had to be the island of Islay, the home of Ardbeg, my secret love.  The terrain of Islay is sodden with peat and Ardbeg tastes of this richly decayed vegetable matter.   Peat forms in wetland conditions, where flooding obstructs flows of oxygen from the atmosphere reducing rates of decomposition.  Abundant soft water, fertile soil and acres of precious peat makes this Island a place of pilgrimage for the single malt whisky faithful like myself.

The party now was increased in number as Angus joined us on our flight from Glasgow to Islay to be met by Argyll, welcoming us to the New Hebrides.  Whilst Angus is red headed, freckled, and robust, Argyll had dark curly mop, a workout body, blue eyed with a touch of the Irish in him.   Although he adamantly says he is born and bred Islayian, not a trace of annoyance as he guides us to the car.  

Kilmeny House

Kilmeny house is our destination. Margaret and Blair, the owners of Kilmeny House, greet us warmly with tea and home made cakes.    

The Ardbeg tasting tomorrow will be accompanied with both Angus and Argyll but first a Scottish dinner tonight at this unpronounceable restaurant called  An Tigh Seinnse  in Portnahaven, a basic pub style but comes highly recommended.   Situated away from civilization, the door to the pub looked like someone’s house, once in it was teeming with people.   A little rustic, but the welcome was warm and friendly.  The beef and Guinness pie was delicious and tasty.   Portions are large but after a week or so in Scotland, my drinking and eating capacity has increased alongside my fellow Scots. 

AN TIGH SEINNSE

Angus recommended the plum crumble whilst Argyll said the bread and butter pudding was the best in the world.   The only thing a girl can do under the circumstances was to try a little of both.    I detected that the crumble had oatmeal and brown sugar -  and the bread and butter pudding had an apricot glazing.   Greed is such an unattractive behaviour, so its an either or for the evening.

Ardbeg the most delicisous of the peaty variety.  The terrain of Islay is sodden with Peat and Ardbeg tastes of this richly decayed vegetable matter.  All good single malts have this crisp watery purity that sets off their other flavors.   The smell of Islay is the smell and taste of Ardbeg.  The distillery stands on a mound that rises between the buildings and the sea.  The sound of waves crashing on the rocks behind.  The smell of salt and seaspray sets the atmosphere of Islay.

Ardbeg can trace its origins back to 1794.   Both Angus, Argyll and myself tasted  the Ardbeg 10 year old.   It was  quite sweet on the nose, with soft peat, carbolic soap and Arbroath smokies.  Extremely long and smoky in the finish.

Ardbeg Uigeadail,  from the Uigeadail loch which all Ardbeg waters flow.

A sweet and smoky flavor to this malt.

and Ardbeg "Almost There" 1998.   This is mellower, softer more rounder.

It is always hard to choose the best tasting whisky.   Peat days or smooth finish days, dependant on the mood.  But whatever days, it is my last day in Scotland and I had to ask the question that has been on my mind.  Commando or not.....

Both Angus and Argyll practically screamed that they were true Scotsmen.........  

And these are true Scotsmen.

THE SECRET REVEALED

SO   ENIGMATIC 

The Governer's House Srinagar

ON THE ROAD TO SHIMLA SRINAGAR AND SEVENTH HEAVEN

Part 3

Twelve days into my Indian odyssey and I am salivating for a thick juicy medium rare US Sirloin steak, with béarnaise sauce and a baked potato.  Food variety deprivation, makes the stomach grow fonder.  This is what my wandering mind escaped to when stuck on the road to Chandigarh from New Delhi’s Indira Gandhi airport.  A herd of cows decided to park themselves in the middle of the road, hence the traffic, hence the steak.  

Sacred Cow in the middle of the street

Mind association truly is the stuff of psychology.            

I don’t mean to be disrespectful but the stomach dictates and it will be another 12 long days before my next encounter of a roast.  At this point, a Macdonald’s quarter pounder would have been welcomed.

For five miles an hour, the journey is going to take ten hours at this rate.  My travelling mates obliterated the boredom by popping a pill whilst I mind associated throughout 250 miles to Chandigarh.  

Nayana 

At Kurukshetra, a Punjabi territory, we stopped at the Saffron Hotel, for bathroom needs and walkabout.  I sat next to a beautiful child with captivating blue-green eyes, a typical Indo-Aryan Punjabi.  And my mind association went to Alexander The Great who probably shares the very same DNA with this little girl. "Aap ki naam kya hai"?  my Hindi is getting more fluid.  She said her name was Nayana which translated means "eye".  No wonder.

Chandigarh our rest stop before scaling the foothills of the Himalaya range, was also our lunch stop.   Unbelievable to pass The MacDonald arch in the distance, knowing full well the menu did not include beef so our choice was the curry house next door.

Chicken Korma with Chapati

Chapati and Chicken Korma was perfect for me.  This north Indian dish rich and tasty made with ground almonds and thick yoghurt, the blend of spices, ginger, turmeric chillies and ground coriander eaten with Chapati bread.   Yoghurt tenderizes the chicken pieces that softens and melts in your mouth.   

Gulab Jamun

Completing the meal, Gulab Jamun just did what no other dessert can do. The sweetness and texture is similar to soft marzipan.  Powdered milk is blended in with flour and sugar and then binded with yoghurt made into balls and deep fried.  It is then soaked in rose flavored cardamom syrup.   Not for the diabetic diet nor the cholesterol diet.   But one bite and you know that you have entered into the realm of waywardness.

The Road to Shimla and Manali  in Himal Pradesh

The road to Shimla and Manali is filled with intrigue, history, holiness and mystical.   Although the British Empire is no more, its echo still lingers on in Shimla.  This was the place the British Raj spent their summer months.   As the car revs into third gear climbing up, a running stream of fresh water follows our pathway.   The valleys noted for its  apple and orange orchard  scattered either side as the road twists and turns reminded me of Switzerland.    The terrain starts to change and it becomes a mountain road with extensive hairpin turns.   The final 100 km stretch to Shimla was featured in the History Channel’s “Deadliest Roads” series for its hazardous driving conditions all through the year.   This did little to calm my nerves as the higher we climbed, fog and ice was blanketing the ground.  Constantly rubbing my Ganesh in my pocket, I consoled myself that I am nearer to God than I have ever been on the slopes of the Himalaya – fate, karma, whatever He has in store for me, please let it be quick.

The view from Srinagar from Manali

The morning light just peaking through the slopes revealed breathtaking splendor. Only 8,000ft above sea level, the air, the view is just spectacular.  I know I am in a special place.   I am in awe of the majesty of my surroundings.  No human can engineer this view, or the purity of air, or the freshness of the taste of snow.  The worries of metropolis living, husband, children, money, all left behind in another dimension.  

This is Nirvana.

There is less oxygen, there is light headiness, and there is a dreamlike float but Shimla is nevertheless a bustling town with carpet merchants, sari merchants, markets and a church.

Woodville Palace

Woodville Palace is where I lay my head for the night.  Once owned by the Commander in Chief of the Imperial Army, Sir William Mansfield, it was later acquired by His Highness Maharaja Bhagvat Singh.  Now maintained by the grandson, Rajkumar Uday Singh, the Palace is one of the classiest places to stay in Shimla.

Jakhu Temple

Coping  with cows on Delhi streets was one thing, but contending with Monkeys in Shimla was disconcerting to say the least.  They are everywhere, on the hillside, on the streets.  Some are fierce, but most live alongside humans.  I plucked enough courage to visit the famous Jakhu Temple, a monkey temple giving homage to Lord Hanuman.   

It was a five minuet long homage.  I'm afraid the simians did not see eye to eye with me, they growled and hissed, and were not allowing entrance into the temple.   Maybe they knew I was from another faith, whatever it was, five minuets there, was four minuets too long.

So if not Hanuman then it’s Jesus as today being Sunday I will be saying the Lord's Prayer and receiving sacrament at the second oldest  Christ Church  in North India. A parish in the Diocese of Amritsar, it was built in 1857 .  The  services were both in English and Hindi and so were the hymns. 

My Mecca

Globe trotting since the age of four, I have been asked many times, where is my Mecca?   There’s no other place on earth that gets me nearer to God, not even the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican, or the Temple of the Emerald Buddha, nor St. Paul’s Cathedral than crossing the dangerous Khyber pass and seeing Srinagar Lake for the first time.

Khyber Pass seen from the Afghan frontier

One of reasons that Kashmir evokes many emotions in me are the numerous lives lost during the Indo-Pakistan war in the 60’s, having lived in the vicinity of Islamabad.  The violent history of the Khyber pass from as long ago as 260BCE, and yet, the serenity of the area suggests stillness and calmness.  As some people are labeled “old souls” Srinagar is an “old soul city” .  Another reason would be that this is centre where all three faiths are joined together. Islam and Hindu with King Ashoka Maurya introducing Buddhism to the Kashmir valley and the adjoining regions, after witnessing the mass deaths of the Kalingka War which he himself had waged out of a desire for conquest. 

Dal Lake, Srinagar

I leave you with these thoughts as I descend into my boathouse on the still lake of Dal.

Perhaps my peace, the harmony within me, my fifth and last stage  of reincarnation requires that I must pay homage.  This old soul is in search for balance and completion with an urge to pass on the torch before the end of reincarnation.