Stone of Fear by Margaret Izard

Author:Margaret Izard [Izard, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC027030 FICTION / Romance / Fantasy
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
Published: 2024-06-11T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 10

John sipped his whisky and held the glass near the candle in the inn’s bar. The light reflected off the golden liquid. This tasted better than whisky in the future. Was it the old organic farming versus the new agricultural technology or possibly the pollution in the future? Either way, this he savored.

John and his da had arrived in Islay a day ago. They met with an ecstatic Torquil McDonald and inspected his whisky business located at the head of Loch Laphroaig situated on the south coast of the island. As John viewed the vast landscape, purely nature as God made, he pictured what the place would become in the future—one of the largest whisky distilleries in Scotland. What was Torquil’s small farm became a thriving village, tourist stop for many coming to Scotland over summer break. He and Marie had discussed a trip themselves but hadn’t taken the time to go.

Torquil stepped into his first building, the largest on the property, as he led them on a tour. “Pot still distillation is a batch process and I need more stills and a bigger warehouse to make more to ship for sale. Demands have gone up. Some distilleries use double-distillation, while mine is special—distilled three times.”

He walked past the first large copper pot with a narrowed end, pointing to the top. “The wash goes into the first still, called the low wines still, where it’s heated up. Alcohol boils at a lower temperature than water, so the alcohol vapors rise off the liquid and into the still neck or lyne arm, eventually reaching the condenser, which turns them to liquid once again.”

He strode to the next copper pot. “The resulting liquid goes into the second still, or spirit still, where the process is repeated. The spirit still, that’s where the spirit of the whisky is born.”

Torquil glanced back and winked. “And this is when my magic happens, a third distillation.” He waved to the large copper still. “We throw out a certain amount of spirit from the beginning and end of the run, known as the head and tail, due to their unwanted flavors and aromas. Some we reuse as starter for the next batch which produces our richer flavors.”

He moved on to another copper tank. “The rest, well that’s yer treasure—known as the heart—goes into barrels.” He touched his hand to his heart. “ ’Tis why I call it the Heart of Scotland.”

They walked out and into the next small building, his warehouse. Wooden barrels stacked from floor to ceiling filled the space. Upon entering, the liquor scent overpowered John’s nose and he imagined if anyone lit a match, the place would go up in flames.

Torquil patted the nearest barrel, pride clear in his voice as he spoke. “All my whiskies are aged in oak barrels I make, stored in my warehouse. As the whisky matures, the angels visit.”

He placed his hand over his heart as he gazed at the heavens. “A bit disappears from each cask. Tis known as the ‘angels’ share’ when the angels come to bless each barrel.

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