A NEW YEAR’S DAY ON THE ROAD

She Who Must Be Obeyed and I rang in the New Year (and celebrated our thirty-seventh Meet-a-Versary) in memorable style at the Holiday Inn in Roanoke, Virginia.  It had been a long day driving down from the Mistress of Sarcasm’s crib in upstate New York, and our idea of a Big Evening to finish out the year was, necessarily, adapted to circumstances.

Dinner was a rather uncomplicated affair: for me, a club sandwich washed down with a brace of Tanqueray Martinis; for the Missus, a chicken quesadilla and a couple of Malibu Barbie Martinis, a concoction involving coconut rum, pineapple juice, and grenadine.  Nothing fancy.

Somehow, I managed to stay awake long enough to see the ball drop.

Our New Year’s Day involved less mileage, as we had planned to stop off to visit our favorite Tennessee Renaissance Man and his lovely bride.  We arrived mid-afternoon, and the drizzly, damp weather didn’t bother us a bit, for we were in the company of friends.
 
As always, Eric and Princess Fiona were congenial hosts.  We supplied the blackeyed peas and collard greens, two traditional foods that - at least in SWMBO’s family tradition - are eaten on New Year’s Day to bring luck and prosperity.  It’s a practice popular in many parts of the southern United States, but it evidently never penetrated to Eric’s neck of the woods, seeing as how he was completely unfamiliar with it.  (Good Gawd, the boy had never tasted of blackeyed peas until this very day!) 

We alternated between watching football games and zombie flicks on the teevee while Levon did his best to keep everyone entertained with his kittenish antics.  And as the evening progressed, Eric, for our benefit and amusement, trotted out several tomes from his Library o’ Single Malts.  One cannot but hold out the best of hopes for a New Year that begins with not one, but five (count ’em!) fine Scotch whiskies...


Glenfarclas 21... a whisky old enough to order itself in a public house.


Highland Park 12.  Smooth and straightforward.


Talisker 10, a delightfully peaty dram from the Isle of Skye.


Macallan 18.  Deep caramel notes, amazingly mellow.


Laphroaig 10.  Smoke, peat, and iodine... not for the faint of heart. 

Should auld acquaintance be forgot?  I sure as hell hope not!