| Back into the coach, north
again through delightful countryside, beyond Crieff to Glenturret Distillery set in a backdrop of rolling
wooded hills.
Here, the water of life was being lovingly created
from those most basic ingredients, water, malted Barley and yeast. |
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on the whisky trail |
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A mash tun |
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Our guide
told us of the malting, showed us the milling, the mashing the nostril teasing
fermentation, the distillation taking the ‘product’ from 7-8% alcohol by
volume to low wines at 25% and then distilled again to a ‘middle cut’ of
62-71%. Add a wee drop of water and store in a barrel for at least twelve years,
preferably longer, and then….. |
| …. We spent a wee while in
their audiovisual presentation theatre, which proved to be in serious need
of a sober technician. Carousels clattered a series of pictures, which were
sometimes in focus, more often not. A blood-curdling scream from one of the
life size tartan clad model emanated as a not even square wave squawk from a
severely distressed loud speaker. |
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Your actual Still. |
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…. And then we sat around tables at which samples
of Glenturrets range of single malts were ready for us lighting people to sample
for ourselves. The high proof (at 60+ %) was rocket fuel, the 15 year old was
good, the 18 year old was smoother. Nothing wrong with this mid afternoon
experience. I compared notes with delegates from the Low Countries about this
product from the high country. |
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The Product |
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The coach driver entertained us (and prevented post
whisky tasting snoozing) during the scenic drive back to Edinburgh. We passed by
Gleneagles Golf Course. Well, actually, no, we didn’t pass it by, we went in. The
driver had a long standing grudge to bear against the new owners of the
hotel and got his own back by taking all his passengers slowly up the main
drive, past the manicured greens and fairways of this beautiful course in
its magnificent setting, almost up to the front door of the hotel. At the
sight of a liveried flunky emerging from the main building with a walkie talkey and
clipboard, he would exit hastily to the main road to continue on his way! |
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The beautiful Scottish countryside, as seen from our
coach. |
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A short break down by the Forth between the two great
bridges for photos, then onward to our Gala Dinner at Hopetoun House set in 100
acres of gardens, woodland walks and a Red Deer Park. |
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| We were all met by a piper
and Chairman Watt and refreshed with sparkling wine, which rather set the tone
for the evening. “ Take a look at the roof” was the whisper, so we did. Bit
of a queue for the rickety winding one way staircase, but it was worth it, to
share the magnificent view with other glass clutching delegates. |
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| The meal, oh the meal. Suffice to say it was entirely
and deliciously Scottish, served with great skill by an army of waitresses and
waiters run by a stony faced Scottish version of Anne Robinson. “You are the
slowest waiter, goodbye”. |
Below stairs in Hopetoun House |
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