What Women REALLY Want... Inverleven 1991 (pt.2)

After reading my blog post yesterday, my girlfriend Ellen has written a retaliation...

Drinking wine in a box on moving day

I have always enjoyed the company of blokes. I am proud to call myself a tomboy, and am forever suspicious of girls that look like they might be eyeing up my position as token female in the friendship group. So living with me had to be a dream come true didn’t it? After months of anticipation, moving day came, and Angus and I filled our tiny flat with boxes, and our heads with ideas for an effortlessly cool ‘professional couples pad’. As the weeks went on, it started to happen. I was turning into a woman, or more specifically – my mother. The honeymoon period came to an abrupt halt as piles of dirty boxers began to line the floor like an obscure carpet, the washing up piled out of the sink and my borderline OCD love of neatness was bombarded with clutter and cluelessness. So this is what it’s like to be a man?

Milking my girly-
ness with a rose on
Valentines!

Suddenly my need to buy dresses and do-up my hair become more important than I ever dreamed. We’re not students anymore! I scream at my ever-suffering boyfriend who is avoiding a day of cleaning whilst simultaneously trying to pick off the nail varnish I forced upon him the night before. Almost all of our hard-earned money is going on the rent and bills to this little abode, so it is important that it looks good at all times for potential guests. They will walk in and be blown away by our chic and sophisticated décor, our eclectic mix of literature on the bookshelves and the endless gadgets in our kitchen. Either that or they’ll be blown away by the impressive amount of empty bottles of alcohol yet to be recycled by my “better” half.

When I was a teenager I would have denied that I could ever turn into my mother, but now it’s started I see no reason for it to stop. Every woman loves a project, and Angus is mine. Perhaps the better I get at whisky tasting, the better he will get at cleaning and tidying. The uphill struggle starts here…

Inverleven 1991
40% - Bottled in 2010 by Gordon & MacPhail
Nose: Slightly dry and musty, like lingering hair spray. Apple and kiwi add a sweet, if slightly watered down quality.
Palate: Light and refreshing. Quite creamy and sweet – Campino’s spring to mind (the strawberry and cream sweets).
Finish: A tang that coats my mouth for some time, although the light fruitiness is lost early on. There is a slight bitterness that comes through at the end, which reminds me of a cup of tea with too little milk in. (Angus tells me this could be the tannins!)
Overall: A light and easy to drink whisky that could easily substitute a pot of tea for those days when all you need is a stiff drink. The Inverleven 1991 would be most welcome in a bubble bath with a good book, whilst I contemplate my next tactic in mission ‘tidy boyfriend’!

What Women Want... Inverleven 1991

Living with girls is always a challenge, scratch that, it’s a war. That’s why I didn’t write: ‘Living with the fairer sex,’ because that implies there is balance. Those of us who abide with them will know that it is a battle hard fought. I have drawn my battle lines carefully: I have a one-cushion-on-the-sofa-only policy; I have set fire to two throws; and I have a blanket ban on pink bed sheets (no pun intended). However these trenches that I have dug have easily been flanked, I have had discussions on the technical differences between a cushion and a pillow, skirmishes on the distinction between a throw and a quilt and I have engaged in heavy artillery fire over the similarity of pink and magenta. Furthermore there is a calculated campaign of psychological warfare being launched simultaneously. I start to doubt myself, is the smell of beer, dust and trench foot really better than flowers and cleanliness? I tell myself it is yet I still put the loo seat down.

This is not to suggest that the war is lost, I have made noticeable gains. Notably at the Battle of Tea-Pot Pass (I refuse to drink tea, it all tastes like stale water, even if my girlfriend has two dozen boxes of so-called different flavours) and again victory at the Fall of the Vindaloo Embargo. Of course I have been to the UN over these human rights atrocities and over the others; such as being forced to put things back in their place at gunpoint (okay not gunpoint but her eye was twitching) and worst of all being coerced into the ‘girly day’ where my face was plastered with a clay-and-pumice mask, and my nails varnished.

So where does this leave me? With one final bastion. Whisky remains the source of my power it is with whisky that I can fortify my troops, while drinking it plan my advances and I have even got my girlfriend drinking it. Whisky represents the dugout from which I will launch my retaliation. Except for one problem, I have found a whisky that is taking on the characteristics of the bath bombs that fall about my position… and I like it.

Inverleven 1991
40% - Bottled in 2010 by Gordon & MacPhail
Nose: Heather and flowers combine with caramel and summer fruits to create a potpourri essence with further notes of biscuit and lavender and a touch of orange.
Palate: Intense parma violet sweets with a light mouth feel and just a smidgeon of sherry.
Finish: A burst of red fruits with that parma violet character coming through again and maybe a touch too short?
Overall: A very floral Lowland whisky from a closed distillery. The nose was fascinating reminding me of floral heather in the summertime and the flavour was immensely drinkable. If the battle of the sexes is leading us here then I am willing to admit defeat. I might even get Ellen to review this whisky tomorrow (although bizarrely she likes big smoky whiskies defying any notion of effeminate drams).

Sláinte!