Keeping Your Blades Sharp
I tried out a new barber recently. He did a pretty good job, but he didn’t have the care for his tools that my usual barber possesses. His blades were dull, something my usual barber would never tolerate. My hair had grown long and wild and the barber sawed at it like an Amish wood worker (another group that would not tolerate dull blades). He switched to some smaller, slightly sharper, scissors for the detail work and a straight razor for the neckline. Anyone who’s ever used an old blade knows the discomfort of a rough shave. Imagine that along a four-inch blade, scraping across your neck. Not all that pleasant, I assure you.
Where am I going with this? It is important for any craftsman to care for his tools, no matter his craft. This is true whether you are a cooper, a malt man, a Master Distiller, or even a spirits writer.
After the passing of Michael Jackson (not that Michael Jackson), John Hansel blogged about who would be the one to fill the great Beer Hunter’s shoes. One thing he brought up was the sacrifice it takes to be a spirits writer of such caliber. One requirement, you must abstain for foods and activities that may damage your palate and nosing abilities. It seems to me, that the life of the Master Distiller is much the same. The Master Distiller for Suntory eats the same lunch every day to ensure his palate remains unchanged. Given the Japanese obsession with perfection, I can only assume that the day his udon tastes different will be the day he retires.
These are sacrifices I could not make. I like garlic, onions, hot peppers, and searingly hot curries (not to mention the occasional cigar). Therefore, my tools are not as sharp as they could be. I’m okay with this. I don’t claim to be an expert of any kind, only an enthusiast. There are certainly Master Distillers and writers out there who smoke, drink coffee, and eat spicy food. I imagine it does affect the way they taste and smell. Even aging can cause problems. The older we get, the worse our senses (taste and smell included). I’m sure there are no Master Distillers under the age of 30 and only a few under the age of 40. It seems that all of us are operating at a disadvantage. How do the older distillers and writers keep up their skills? The same way they honed them in the first place; practice, practice, practice.
It’s a tough thing for a whisk(e)y writer to realize that he could probably never be a distiller (at least for me), but I have the added problem of having a crap memory. I was not kind to my brain during my late teens and early 20s and my memory was spotty before then. The only reason I blog is for a record of my tasting notes. The distillers I’ve met have encyclopedic memories. Heck, some of the bartenders I’ve met have encyclopedic memories. Ethan Kelley (formerly of Brandy Library) and a guy named Roger who worked at St. Andrews Pub before it turned into a tourist bar knew more about the whiskies they sold (and whisky in general) than just about anyone I’ve ever known. If anyone knows where these guys are now, let me know. That will be my new bar.
While I can’t do anything about my memory, my wife and I are embarking on a detox. If you don’t live in Los Angeles or New York City, the idea of detox may seem foreign, but we live in such toxic environments that cleaning your body out of processed suger, alcohol, tobacco and caffeine can be very cathartic. After my formal detox, I’m going to do some tasting notes and see if my senses are any better. If not, then I won’t worry. If I have a much greater appreciation and understanding of whisky, I’ll try to learn to moderate my intake of all the things that make life beautiful.
What do you do to help “keep your blades sharp” so to speak?