The Scotch whisky is a beautiful thing all it’s own. It’s from Islay, the only island from which I’ll drink, or at least enjoy, the whisky. I like it peaty. If it doesn’t taste like someone threw a little dirt into my class, I don’t want it. This one’s distilled and bottled by the Bruichladdich Distillery. I discovered this on my 40th birthday, on Christmas eve in San Francisco, last year, and next to Ardbeg, also from Islay, it’s one of my favourites,
The glasses are votive candle holders from Oaxaca, Mexico. I found them during the Day of Dead festival last year as well, noting that the shot glasses from which the locals drank their mescal looked a lot like votive holders (what with the cross stamped into the bottom of them…). When I finally looked at the candles used everywhere in celebration of this festival, I found they were one and the same. Seems fitting to celebrate our long-gone loved ones by lighting a candle, then drinking to their memory. These are heavy, and sharply ridged on the outside, making them a pleasure to hold. Now chipped and scratched, I carry these – and memories of Oaxaca – in the back of the Jeep and throw them into the bag when traveling. You never know when you’ll need a couple whisky glasses. Or candle holders.