You Got Chocolate in My Laphroaig!

Updated:
Call it an occupational hazard. The vagaries of taking notes while drinking scotch, even just a wee dram. I’ve included…hic…a few corrections to some hiccups from the original posting. Waterloo Region Eats regrets the error.

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It is surprising how deeply steeped popular culture is in what otherwise is the rather arcane pairing of whiskey and chocolate. There are dozens of selections at the LiqBow and innumerable “scotch blogs” exhorting the gustatory pleasures of sipping whiskey and nibbling chocolate. There is, apparently, a band by the name of Nickel Creek who have a tune called “Scotch and Chocolate.”

Yet, based on their individual qualities and their vast popularity, it was only a matter of time before the two delicacies got put together in the same manner as chocolate and peanut butter.

Part of a Savour Stratford Christmas event, a tasting at Foster’s Inn in Stratford last week–it’s a regular affair in this theatre town, by the way–pitted a range of seven whiskies with chocolate from the inestimable Rheo Thompson Candies. Led by scotch aficionado Esther Brown–she of the lovely thick brogue–and RT’s Kristene Steed, the late-afternoon at Foster’s began with the presentation of a plate of divine Rheo Thompson chocolates.

Now, I will admit, having tippled my fair share of Glenmorangies, Taliskers, and Scapas, that I brought a skeptic’s palate to the tasting: how can chocolate, I mean really, match up with scotch, that divine and ethereal elixir?

Well, regardless of what I thought, out of over 100 single-malt scotches to choose from in Scotland, here were seven that were going to give it a try and convince me otherwise. They were successful, truth be told.

An array of fine scotch and whisk(e)y.

12-year-old Aberfeldy
Paired with a moulded 60 percent semi-sweet (50 percent cocoa) Rheo Thompson double-chocolate smoothie, smooth it was indeed. This pairing was a non-event for me: because it was the first time, I missed the subtlety and nuance. I’d have to wait until round two.

A Dewar product, Aberfeldy distillery was built in the early 1900s and produces a high-end Highland scotch. They also produce a 21-year-old, which Brown points out “has never seen the light of day” across the pond in Canada. More’s the pity. Though it didn’t work initially for me, the honey flavours in the scotch did blend nicely with the chocolate, that much I can say. It was possible to detect some fruit and spice notes too.

Esther Brown, shown here, guided tastebuds through seven whiskies, while Kristene Steed of Rheo Thompson Candies provided chocolate tasting notes.

10-year-old Isle of Jura
Like a good red wine, a good scotch sitting open seems to gain a robustness, and this Jura had done just that. The Jura distillery is about 200 years old, sitting on an island that is only just over 200 sq-miles and where individuals were once able to distill their own spirits, until the politicians got involved.

This sip, I would say, had more herbal notes than the Aberfeldy and was paired with Steed’s 60 percent semi-sweet Australian apricot, which with the scotch or without was simply delicious. It is an award-winning scotch and an original recipe that again had some honey and fruit notes that pick up on the apricot.

Connemara
Not a scotch, of course, this northern Irish single malt whiskey was paired with a 60 percent Kenya coffee-bean bark. Full disclosure: I have recently polished off a Connemara, and it absolutely is one of my peaty favourites (compared to the first two whiskies which were unpeated).

Pair that with some coffee and chocolate bark and this was a spirited version of heaven. I think it was a terrific pairing because of the way the smokiness of the whiskey could stand up to the bolder coffee flavour, a tasting note that Steed supported in her discussion.

A skeptical palate can be swayed by whisky and chocolate.

Bruichladdich organic
From western Islay, I think next to the Connemara this was my favourite of the night, and that could be due to high (a top-end 46 percent) alcohol content and lots of legs. This is a scotch to add a bit of water in order to enliven it a bit and get it to open up as they say. Add the fact that it is one of only two organic scotches and possessed of a buttery and oily (in a good way) mouth-feel. It is slightly briny too, which I love.

The chocolate was a superb 72 percent cocoa-content Rheo Thompson bitter-sweet (which I adore) and punctuated with cranberries and almonds. I thought the two worked well together and perhaps that was because of the slight tartness of the cranberries and the nutty almond. Steen pointed out that this is a case of contrasts in tasting.

Brown added that the Bruichladdich folks continue to use a Victorian still and create the spirit in a traditional way. As well, 50 percent of the barley that they use is grown on Isla. “I think that is special,” Brown said. I agree.

Te Bheag
Some peatiness, some brininess, and some gentle spices: we’re off to the Isle of Skye in the Hebrides for a Gaelic blend of whisky, Te Bheag (“the little one;” pron: “Che” as in Guevara and “Veck.” Quite the language that Welsh Gaelic).

Forty percent of the spirit comes from some beauty Highlands in this blend. And a tasty little devil for a blend, indeed, with just a slight bite going down the gullet–and then paired with Rheo Thompson’s Australian black licorice it made quite an impression on me.

Why? The challenge was that I am not a licorice fan at the best of times, but I did find this to work quite well. My tasting companion, something of a licorice aficionado, jested that the pairing of whisky and licorice was “some sort of a cruel culinary joke.” Then we laughed … and had more scotch and chocolate.

Penderyn
A very rare experience. This is this one of my favourites, if only because this Welsh distillery, in an industry that had died out by 1894, is the smallest distillery in the world with only one still. The slightly honey flavour and touch of peat in the whisky is finished in Madeira casks and seemed to have a drier, flatter quality (but again in a good way).

I guess we were lucky in that Pendryn produces only one cask  a year day too. Amazing. This whisky undergoes un-chilled filtration which apparently retains a greater flavour in the spirit. As for the chocolate partner, some people don’t like dried citrus peel, but I do. The Rheo Thompson accompaniment was a 60 percent semi-sweet Italian orange peel and the pairing was ideal–and delicious.

10-year-old Glenmorangie
This represented a contrast with our penultimate tasting and a significant one at that: Glenmorangie (put an “orange” in the pronunciation) has four tall stills, one of which is  are Scotland’s tallest, that produce a leviathan 10 million casks bottles annually, nearly seven million of which are consumed in Scotland and the UK alone. God love ‘em! I could find honey and some fruit in the scotch, and it was gentle and smooth and overall very enjoyable (By this time, everything was very enjoyable. I stayed the night at the lovely Foster’s Inn, so no worries about a drive home, incidentally.)

The Glenmorangie was accompanied with a simple straightforward and dense 60 percent semi-sweet rose bud–and Brown pointed out a rose oil aroma in the scotch (but I couldn’t find that). The chocolate melted wonderfully in the mouth and blended in a delicious way with the spirit until they are one in a sexy sort of scotch-chocolate union.

Just about situated at the very top of Scotland, this scotch is a highly traditional whisky in its preparation despite its massive production. The company owns their own forest in the Ozarks to produce white oak for casks.

Yep; whisky and scotch: give it a try sometime ...

So there you go. I do believe that scotch and chocolate does work together in several instances. If you take a bit of time, you can dig out individual flavours and aromas that work well together, like the sauce on your halibut or the milk in your tea. It’s all about blend and balance.  I guess both comestibles have their micro-climate qualities and terroir as well. As such it poses interesting and challenging gustatory possibilities.

Thanks Esther Brown, Kristene Steed and Rheo Thompson Candies, and host Foster’s Inn: my skepticism has been re-vectored; my tastebuds convinced.