The dirty MacGregor

While Fiona Armstrong busies herself emptying her freezer, the Chief has become a cocktail innovator

Weeks of enforced isolation sees me making soup and clearing cupboards. Indeed, with little else to do in a day, I seem to have become a dab hand with a duster.

The marks on the doors have gone. I have even dismantled and cleaned the fan extractor in the kitchen. Tapestry work is again on the go with a fancy cushion in progress. I am planting carrots and curly kale, my beetroot seedlings are coming up as we speak, and all the time the MacGregor and I are eating our way through the deep freeze.

A freezer is a mysterious place. Out of sight and out of mind it can hide all manner of forgotten food. There are the usual culprits: the containers of stock, the bits of bread and bags of redcurrants from the garden, the four giant sacks of ice from a party we had some years ago.

Most of it is tedious stuff, but sometimes things can excite. Today I find three partridge which is a pleasant surprise. Emptying the thing is a job and a half, but it needs to be done because in order to defrost it, it must be cleared of its contents.

And it is good to keep busy. Otherwise the devil will find work for idle hands.

You will have heard of a Manhattan (whisky, sweet vermouth and bitters). You may perhaps have tried a Rob Roy at some stage (similar but made with Scotch). What you will probably not have encountered, however, is a Dirty MacGregor.

Because in between chopping and stacking wood, the Chief has invented a new cocktail. It is one that is made with blended whisky, bitters – and a new (secret) ingredient. And it is something that offers a little cheer in these very difficult times.

The name is apt for it goes back to good old clan rivalry. In times past the (nice) MacLeans of Mull had a falling out with the (nasty) MacGregors of Argyll. Anyhow, things got out of hand and the islanders decided they did not like Clan Gregor one bit.

So when a gale force wind came off the Atlantic, bringing driving rain and battering Loch Linnhe, they decided to name it the Dirty MacGregor. This storm packed a punch, just like this latest offering appears to do. And I say ‘appears’ for I cannot tell you what the drink tastes like because my cocktail years are long gone.

Not that I have not had my share of multi-coloured tipples, sweet and sour. Tequila Sunrise and Margarita. Daquiri and Moscow Mule. Those were the days, and those were the sore heads, too, when we were young, with money enough to burn and sufficient stamina to party and get up in the morning.

But back to my husband, whose creation must be served ice cold, and whose secret ingredient means it will warm the cockles of your heart.

I do not know how many cocktails there are in the world. Perhaps thousands. And just think, if each Scottish clan chief was to invent his or her own there could well be a hundred more.

Such musings are perhaps irrelevant at this time. And I hope you do not think I am being flip, but a bit of escapism may help to lift spirits.

In the meantime, it is back to the deep freeze. What do you do with all those bags of ice? You could always make a cocktail or two. And if you really want to know the secret ingredient – whisper it, it’s King’s Ginger.

Please stay safe and stay well. Touch wood, we will come through this.

The secret ingredient in the Chief’s cocktails will warm the cockles of your heart