Battle of the ‘Game of Thrones’ Scotch whiskies
Winter whisky is coming — Diageo in late November will release a series of eight new singlemalt Scotch whiskies to celebrate the epic final season of HBO’s landmark fantasy series “Game of Thrones.”
Representing seven Houses of Westeros, along with those stoic wallhuggers, the Night’s Watch, this fan-focused collection serves as an entry point to popular and atypical single malts.
“Scotland, much like the Seven Kingdoms, has a diverse and varied landscape,” says Dan Sanborn, senior vice president of culture and partnerships at Diageo. “Each distillery has its own unique character and produces a distinctive whisky representative of the local Scottish terroir.”
We set out on a quest to taste all eight, but which one will be worthy of being sipped on the Iron Throne?
The Royal Lochnagar 12 Year Old represents House Baratheon. At 40 percent alcohol, $65 is a bit rich for this toffee, plum and currant elixir, distracted by Stannis-like dreams of royalty.
At House Tully, the $30, 40 percent alcohol Singleton of Glendullan Select
is sherry-influenced and all-nose, with muted flavor components as trapped as Edmure Tully, prisoner of the Freys.
Daenerys Targaryen might appreciate the 40 percent alcohol, $40 Cardhu Gold Reserve.
Permeated by a cornucopia of apples, from green to red to the crabapple finish, this Valyrian is spicy enough to smelt a golden crown.
Across the map at House Stark, Dalwhinnie Winter’s Frost, at $40 and 43 percent alcohol, delivers malty orange notes through its remarkable grapefruit finish, with a hopeful, needle-sharp brightness as tenacious as young Arya Stark.
The 43 percent alcohol, $63 Oban Bay Reserve
takes the black with the Night’s Watch. Less maltforward than standard Oban, its impressive body resolves into a medium, marmalade-caramel finish that, like the King in the North, is somewhat blunt.
Fierce, seafaring Yara Greyjoy would be proud of this collection’s best value, the 45.8 percent alcohol, $45 Talisker Select Reserve. Its fresh peat nose and palate, with a lemony roasted-fruit kabob finish, produces an affordable introduction to Talisker and a fine offering to the Drowned God.
Diageo’s “hold the door” surprise is the $60 Clynelish Reserve. Its unsullied 51.2 percent alcohol enables an infinite nose of graham crackers, malt and golden biscuit, and a few drops of water open elements of light treacle and lime through the finish. As confident as the Queen of Thorns herself, this honors House Tyrell with dry complexity.
Moving mountains, House Lannister takes the throne of this collection with the $65, 46 percent alcohol Lagavulin 9 Year Old. This Islay mainstay pays its debts with a peat nose that is sweeter and subtler than its kissing cousin, Lagavulin 8 Year Old, with late-finish wildflowers and Cersei-approved sour threads. Along with the Clynelish Reserve, this is a must-buy.
True victory, though, is a matter of personal palate, making this smorgasbord worth exploring. As Sanborn says, “Only the threeeyed raven knows who will sit on the Iron Throne!” Home on the Range
Macaroons are simple to mix, quick to bake and gluten-free. They’re easy to wrap, to stack and drop at Temple Sinai Synagogue, in the Squirrel Hill neighborhood of Pittsburgh, a few blocks from the Tree of Life. Hard to know how many will show up for the first Shabbat since the Oct. 27 shootings that left 11 dead. But bakers are guessing a lot. Sometimes, after services, boxed chocolate-chunk will do. This week, says one congregant, we need to bake with love in our hearts.
Rolling the moist, lumpy coconut mounds is soothing work. Don’t focus on what happened, says a contributor, just do something good. So they toast coconut and level sugar and whisk egg whites, saving the yolks to knead into loaves of challah for grieving families.
When the macaroons have been plated, along with their brethren — the chocolate-chip cookies, the brownies, the pumpkin squares, the squirrelshaped gingerbreads, the renegade fudge stripes — they recline in a tableau of easy-reach abundance. It may be the single point of overlap between Pittsburgh’s hungry-steelworker food culture, which includes the wedding cookie table, and the city’s Jewish food traditions.
The sanctuary, accustomed to 125 on a Friday evening, overflows with 1 3 ounces bittersweet (70 percent) chocolate 1. Toast: 2. Whisk: 3. Shape: 4. Gild: 1,200 members and guests — many Muslim, Christian, Buddhist. Short on chairs, adults sway; children, in pained restraint, eye the macaroons.
After a service of song and prayer, the cookies prove equal to their job. Even in this moment of sorrow, each offers one bite of sweet.