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The setting was that of an Englishman’s study, the kind that showcased the owner’s Malvernian origins and boyish adventures. A room full of books, souvenirs and comforting in its untidy appearance. A space anchored by commanding high-backed leather chairs, supple in texture and made with care in a tannery in northern Italy where the artisans finish the leather with precise effort so to preserve its natural feel and hue. These chairs, sold in boutique furniture stores under the name of Churchill share a panoramic overlook of a stone fireplace, lit with a crackling warmth emitting a honey glow upon the room.
Resting in a place of revered honor an old-world globe, made of wood and painted with a depiction of Gerard Kremer’s work, opening to reveal the nectar of Islay Scotch - Lagavulin. The selection this morning is the 11 year Offerman Edition. This is not the Guinness Edition but the simple Offerman riding a train of woodsy, peaty notes of fruit, slightly tart wrapped in smoke, giving this version a lighter flare compared to the more senior 16 year. Discussions of cricket matches with one’s old friends, Charters and Caldicott, are interrupted by cravings of a late breakfast of eggs, hashbrowns, and smoked bacon balanced with a dram of the Offerman.
Breakfastscot.ch is a sort of inside joke about the time of day to drink scotch that feels all very aristocratic, men wearing representative ties pontificating affairs of state or the latest test match. Part aspirational, part tongue-in-cheek, part maverick. This blog exists as a place for me to collect my own thoughts and practice my writing. It is not intended to be anything else.
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