Syd Field

In the autumn and winter of 1999, I had the privilege of attending Syd Field’s private screenwriting class at his home.  Like many young screenwriters, I was greatly influenced by his books during my early attempts at the profession, so this was an honor and a great opportunity to hone the craft with one of the master gurus.  Each session consisted of about six writers sitting around Syd’s dining room table, reviewing the pages written the previous week.  All the other writers who attended were of my parents’ age or older.  I was the kid.

After reading his books, I wasn’t sure what to expect from his personality.  From his writing I gleaned that he knew the mechanisms behind excellent script structure possibly better than anyone, and he was always able to walk the reader through each part, step by step.  And that was how his books had helped me.  They take a potentially overwhelming project and divide it into smaller and smaller parts, and then show how each part affects another.  His Workbook had been indispensable for my previous screenplay, so I reread that book again before attending his class.

The man whose work had influenced entertainment industry development departments for decades and now greeted his students with snacks and bottled water in his home every week was not a Hollywood guy, not a Type A, not a producer, not a snake oil salesman.  Syd was soft-spoken and very calm, a generous and sweet man.  In his personal life he loved to meditate and was, at the time, studying Hindu and Buddhist texts.

I had thought the whole class would be about structure, but instead we focused on characters and the human element behind each creation.  But the true lesson I took from his class was a lot larger than anything to do with screenwriting.

The script I was working on was about a crappy schlock journalist who took a last-chance assignment to uncover the truth behind a well-known messianic cult figure.  The assignment starts to awry right from the start when he discovers his ex-girlfriend love-of-his-life is now the messiah’s lover.  I was 21 years old at the time, the age wherein one clearly knows everything about the world and humans and God.  So my script was going to be a serious exposé, not on the messiah figure but on the miserable failure that was my main character.  And I struggled with the damn thing immediately.

Syd had me take a step back and spend a week doing writing exercises from the point of view of my main character and his ex-girlfriend.  It was a way to find their voices and personalities, and thus find out why they do things.  I had trouble cracking this part as well.  After a couple of false starts, I started writing about the terrible sex lives these two people had together and separately; the terrible stuff in the sack that screwed them up in their future relationships.  I thought it was sad and revealing, and I tried to make it a little witty, because bad sex is funny in hindsight.

I was nervous about reading it out loud to complete strangers and Syd Field.  So I chose to go last in the class with my pages.  When it was my turn, I decided to boldly dive in and not apologize for something I was already kind of regretting.   At first I heard some titters from the audience, then some chuckles, and then by the end I had to keep pausing because the laughter had risen to a roar.

My arms were buzzing with goosebumps.  I had never attempted anything comical before; all of my writing had been young-man’s self-serious DRAMA.  This project was going to be another heart-wrenching deconstruction of male delusion.  But because I could not figure out how to express this in melodramatic format, I took a look at my characters’ sources of failure and mixed it in some dick jokes.   And it worked.

Syd said to me, “Why try to keep forcing your story into a mold and tone that don’t fit?  Your characters’ voices clearly work the way you just wrote them.  The soul of comedy is failure and disappointment.  It’s okay to make people laugh, you don’t have to be serious all the time.”  I went home that night and saw my previous three screenplays in an entirely new light: how self-important, serious, and tragic I had tried to be.  I had always liked making girls smile, why not broaden my scope?  That’s of course the young man’s response.  The real lesson was I had to learn how to laugh at myself, at my failures and disappointments.  Sitting around moping about them and then weaving those feelings into screenplays was only going to perpetuate my problems.

Did that messiah script succeed?  In the sense that I learned something about myself, yes.  Or at least that seed was planted.  The lesson is something I’m still learning today.  One doesn’t usually find that level of personal clarity in a screenwriting class.  But this wasn’t a normal class and Syd wasn’t a normal guy.  We all wrestled with the characters in our stories for that handful of months.  Structure-Structure-Structure wasn’t the value.  The person, the voice, and the Why were what mattered.  And the kid in the class learned to not take himself so seriously.

Syd Field passed from this world yesterday.  His family, his wife, Aviva, and his friends were there by his side.  Though I can’t say I knew him very well personally, I do know how he approached life spiritually.  So I’m certain he saw this end as but another beginning.  Thank you, Syd.  May peace be upon you.

Single Malt Report: The Eagle Morning

Distillery: Eagle Morning anagram

Independent Bottler: D4P Whiskies
Type: Single Malt

Age: over 10 years

Extra Maturation: 64 days in 2-liter American Oak barrel
Limited bottling: 2

Distillery Region: Northern Highlands, Scotland, UK
Maturation Region: Long Beach, California, USA

Alcohol by Volume: somewhere around 46% to 52%
Chillfiltered: Probably
Colored: Probably

Yesterday, I wrote about the creation of The Eagle Morning single malt.  It was a labor of love -- okay maybe not that much labor, just waiting and rotating.  My hope was that it would be similar to its source malt, but different; perhaps some peppery spice and barrel char to go with the vanilla and oranges.  I also hoped for a wild card unknown maturation quirk to set in and create something unexpected.

I was also a little worried.  My first maturation experience, The Rye Storm, had resulted in a hot mess, emphasis on HOT.  There's a reason I haven't let anyone else drink it: I'm not entirely sure it's safe for consumption.  The barrel had, by my measurement, absorbed 64mL of the rye.  What the heck would that do to the soft cuddly malt in the second fill?

After the first 31 days in the barrel, The Eagle Morning's palate hadn't changed much; maybe a little more tannic on the finish.  But the nose had picked up a lot of barrel char to go with the malt's citrus.  A nice anise note had also developed.

On day 60, the whisky had started darkening, a reassuring visual.  Here were my notes on the rest:

The barrel's previous occupant has made a big impact on the nose. And the Original's citrus fruits are gone. Now there's cinnamon, vanilla, banana, dried herbs, and a little bit of floral bathroom spray. With agitation, an orange oil note arises. Surprising amount of heat on the palate. Lots of vanilla, gone are the oranges. The rye notes make the whisky seem spirity and younger now. It finishes quietly with vanilla and rye.

Four days later, with the evaporation rate climbing and all new notes forming in the whisky, I chose to bottle the stuff before the oak and angels took over.  Then I let it settle in the bottle for two months, as I've found many of my higher-ABV bottles improving with a tiny bit of oxidation in their first month or so.  I did a number of tastings throughout and then...well, here we are.

NEAT
The color is an orangey gold.  The nose starts with spicy tangerines, orange peel, overripe peaches, and mint leaves.  There's quite an ethyl buzz making it feel younger than it is.  There's also a dollop of vanilla, tree bark, floral perfume, sugary cereal, and peach schnapps.  With some air, notes of toasted grains and dusty black pepper arrive.  Lots of the barrel in the palate.  Sweet at the start, a little spirity at the end.  Strong malted rye note.  Subtle vanilla, lightly tart, peach liqueur, and overripe peaches.  It finishes salty with the drying tannins rolling in.  Notes of chocolate milk, mild vanilla, newspaper and ink, malted rye, and a hint of the peaches.  Lengthy.

WITH WATER
The nose steadies but flattens. Some more pepper notes appear.  The palate actually improves a little as it gets more sugary and creamy.  More vanilla.  The finish gets bitterer, and The Rye Storm has the last laugh.

Like The Rye Storm, the nose is the best part.  But unlike my rye experiment, The Eagle Morning is actually very drinkable.  It keeps enough of its light nature to still be a good summer malt and holds strong against some ice cubes.  Though it feels a little younger and stranger than its source malt, The Eagle Morning has been my go-to whisky during the late-and-extended summer heat.  While I don't think I improved upon the base malt, this has been a minor success.

Will there be a third fill?  I don't know.  The crazy malted rye notes have imbedded themselves deeply in the oak and I'm beginning to tire of them.  I also question the oak itself: its thickness, its porousness, and its cooperage.  If there is a third round, it's going to be goofier and cheaper than these previous two experiments.

In the meantime, I'm going to fix me an Eagle's Highball to fight the mid-November 94-degree heat.

Availability - Two bottles

Pricing - One's patience

Rating - 80

The Eagle Morning Single Malt has landed

Four months ago, I wrote about my rye spirit aging experiment, The Rye Storm.  To recap, I had poured two litres of Corsair's Wry Moon into a two-liter cask (an awesome gift from my brother in-law and his wife!) then monitored it as it matured for five-and-a-half months.

One result was an enormous hot fragrant woody rye-thing.  The other result was a hands-on education about the speed of the angel's share as I lost 61.5% of my batch to some drunk-ass angels in less than a half-year.

But one batch (er, one bottle) of aged rye spirit was never my lone, final intent.  An extra-matured single malt was the endgame.

The single malt I'd use was never in question.  I wanted something that had its own character, but was historically flexible enough to dance with fancy finishes.  I wanted a malt whose simple creamy orangey character might meld well with the cinnamon and peppercorn burst of the aged rye.  I wanted a malt whose Master Distiller/Blender was zany about oak but had yet to drop a rye-finished version onto the market.  Finally, I wanted something that would cost me less than $90 for three bottles.

Immediately upon the decanting of the single bottle of The Rye Storm, I poured two liters of the single malt into the barrel.

My main goal -- aside from creating a palatable whisky -- to lessen the liquid evaporation rate.  So I did three things differently with this barrel:

1.) Secured the spigot into the barrel more tightly.
2.) Replaced the bung plug with a newer tighter version.
3.) Kept the whisky barrel in a cooler darker corner of the condo.

And then I left it to do its thing on July 13th, rotating the barrel once a week.

---

From my notebook:

Day 31 - 10.2% loss to the angels.  The daily loss rate is 6% slower (.328% vs .350%) than The Rye Storm's at this point.  Potentially a good sign or potentially too soon to judge.  On the nose, a big charred oak burst, followed by some of the rye, along with citrus and anise.  The palate feels drier and more tannic than the Original malt, mostly similar though.

Day 60 - 22.6% loss to the angels.  The daily loss rate has jumped almost 50% from the first month's.  The room is only a couple degrees warmer, so perhaps evaporation speeds up as more air enters, a sort of self-perpetuating thing?  The loss rate is likely similar to the rye's rate now.  The whisky's color has begun to look slightly darker than its Original form.

The barrel's previous occupant has made a big impact on the nose.  And the Original's citrus fruits are gone.  Now there's cinnamon, vanilla, banana, dried herbs, and a little bit of floral bathroom spray.  With agitation, an orange oil note arises.  Surprising amount of heat on the palate.  Lots of vanilla, gone are the oranges.  The rye notes make the whisky seem spirity and younger now.  It finishes quietly with vanilla and rye.

Day 64 - I've made the decision to bottle it now.  With the loss rate now climbing to almost 0.5% per day (the sample's volumes are not part of the loss, fyi), which is more than the rye's around this point in time, I want to make sure I can still secure two bottles of this stuff.  Also in just four days, the whisky's character has already changed again.  I don't want this to get too oaky now.

---

September 15th.  The bottling begins...

I did not let one drop go to waste.

I had actually originally intended it to mature for two months, so I was okay with the timing.  The lack of change in the whisky after in the first month had me wondering if this was going to need three or four months instead.  The angels wasted no time in correcting that theory.

Yes, the slowing of the evaporation worked at first.  Then at some point during the second month it propelled upwards.  Its storage spot was five to eight degrees cooler than the rye's storage area from July-September, but......the rye was stored from January-July.  The rye was in a warmer corner during cooler weather and the malt was in a cooler corner during warmer weather.  If we compare the actual maturation periods, the night temperatures were likely very similar, but it's possible that while the malt may have experienced more consistent temperatures it may have been two to four degrees warmer during the day.

Again, there might be cooperage issues.  Or this was some very porous oak.  Or the surface is very thin.  If there's going to be a third and final fill, I'm going to wrap the barrel in plastic.  At the moment, I'm keeping the barrel filled with water to make sure the insides aren't compromised.  Even though it is mid-November now, the temperatures remain in the 80s (actually 90s today), so I'm going to wait a few more weeks in the hope that things cool off around here.

Oh yeah, I also had to name the thing.  As you may have noticed I have not named the distillery whose malt I used (but yes there are pictures of it).  Let's pretend for just a moment that I'm an actual independent bottler (WOOHOO!).  Indies aren't allowed to put the name of the distillery on their bottles unless they have permission from the distillery, thus Old Malt Cask's Talisker is Tactical, Exclusive Malt's Ledaig becomes An Island Distillery, and Caol Ila's and Lagavulin's draff becomes Finlaggan.

My whisky's name would be an anagram of the distillery's name.  My whisky's name would include a little bit of Americana being that it was extra-matured the US, within a cask that had formerly held an American spirit.  My whisky's name would promote something fresh and new after the tumult of The Rye Storm.

My whisky is The Eagle Morning.  Let's taste it tomorrow.

COMING SOON!!!!!

Single Malt Report: Octomore 10 year old (First release)

On Tuesday, the 3.1.
On Wednesday, the 5.1.
Today, the first release of the Octomore 10 year old.  Many thank yous go out to reader Eric S. for his generosity and yet another awesome sample bottle:

Five years ago, Bruichladdich released an Octomore Futures bottle, sort of an Octomore-before-1.1 edition.  It was from their first batch of very heavily peated malt.  Its ppm levels (80.5) were considerably lower than future editions (up to 169), but it still had the highest peating levels of any single malt next to Ardbeg Supernova (approx. 100ppm).  The Futures edition was five-and-a-half years old and aged in former Buffalo Trace barrels.

Scoot forward five years and now some of the barrels from that original Octomore batch were ready to be barreled at 10 years of age.  All previous versions of Octomore were 5 years old.  With more maturation time, lower ppm levels, and a lower ABV, this was a genuinely new approach to the whisky.

Daniel and I were looking forward to this one.  Because I was short a Glencairn glass, we went with a stemmed nosing glass instead.  The glass still delivered the goods.

OCTOMORE 10 YEAR OLD, FIRST EDITION


Distillery: Bruichladdich
Brand: Octomore

Ownership: Remy Cointreau

Region: Islay

Type: Single Malt Whisky

Maturation: Bourbon barrels

Age: minimum 10 years

Alcohol by Volume: 50%
PPM: 80.5
Limited release: 6,000 bottles

The color is a light gold. It's darker than the 5.1, but lighter than the 3.1.  The nose starts out almost floral.  There's licorice, perfumed hand soap, gingerbread, and candied orange peel.  There are also hints of sugary breakfast cereal (that might have been Daniel's note) and vanilla beans.  With some time and air, the whisky develops notes of apples, almond paste, mint leaves, dried herbs, baked squash, and beets.  Peated sweet bread leads the palate.  There's a little sugar, and a little salt.  Not much smoke, but rather a leafy forest floor.  The sweetness remains light with further notes of mint, white fruits, and vanilla.  The finish gets toastier and ashier, with grimier peat.  It's very oceanic and extensive.

Ignoring price and whisky politics for a moment, I think this was the best of the three Octomores we tried.  Allowing it ten full years of maturation gave it a whole new set of characteristics and complexity (oh that word).  I wouldn't doubt that the lower peat levels made a difference as well, but we'll have to see how future batches turn out.

Now, here's where things get sticky.  I've been growing disgruntled with my ratings system and will be making changes in the new year.  While I have no regrets in giving this four stars -- it would register about a 90 out of 100 -- I agree with SKU from Recent Eats that this could have been even better had they released it at full cask strength as they had with the rest of the Octomores.  Instead they watered it down to 50%.  And charged nearly $300 for it.

A ten year old, not at full strength, with a $300 price tag.  That makes this a four-star whisky that is difficult for me to recommend.  At the same price, (with some research) you can buy two bottles of full-strength Port Charlotte PC7 and two bottles of Kilchoman Machir Bay -- all of which are also young small batches, all of which are comparable in quality to the Octomore 10 or possibly better in a blind tasting.

If finances are an issue for you (as they are for me), then you can feel safe knowing the Kilchomans and some of the cask strength PCs can stand their ground against the Octomores at a fraction of the cost.  If finances are not a issue for you then this is good stuff, unique stuff (until the second edition, I guess).  It's also easy to find since folks still haven't rushed out to swoop it off the shelves en masse.  Having now tried five of the Octomores, I can say that this one, with its age and somewhat lower ppms, registers as the least stunt-like of the range, and is my favorite.

Availability - Most specialty retailers worldwide

Pricing - $240-$300 (US); $320-$400 (Europe)

Rating - 90

Single Malt Report: Octomore 5.1 / 5_169

Continuing with the Octomore three-for-all:

Yesterday, I reviewed the third Octomore release and gave a little background on the Octomore whiskies themselves.

Today, let us take look at the fifth release, weighing in at 169ppm.  If you're keeping track of the numbers, this release has the highest peated malted barley of all the Octomores so far.  Also, even though there's a ".1" after the "5", I haven't seen any subreleases.  Like the rest of the regular releases, this is a five-year-old whisky.  It sells for $200 (wut?) and had a "limited" release of 18,000 of its monolithic bottles.

Unlike the 3.1 end-of-bottle sampling from yesterday, this one came right from the top.  Daniel generously waited to open his bottle of 5.1 for this Taste Off.  He did make a very good point that because of the bottle's unique opaque glass, no one can tell what the heck the fill level is nor where drinky level is during its life after opening.  The style is cool -- and I guess it's there to help soothe one's mind about the price tag -- but it's not as useful as plain old cheap glass.  It's a whisky bottle, damn it!

OCTOMORE 5.1 / 5_169

Distillery: Bruichladdich
Brand: Octomore

Ownership: Remy Cointreau

Region: Islay

Type: Single Malt Whisky

Maturation: Bourbon barrels (likely re-fill)

Age: 5 years (bottled 2012)

Alcohol by Volume: 59.5%
PPM: 169
Limited release: 18,000 bottles

The color is the palest of the three.  The oak notes are the mildest as well which makes me think there are more refill casks in this batch than in batch 3.  The nose delivers a much sharper peat than the 3.1. One gets the smoke, the farmy veg, and fresh seaweed versions of peat notes.  A clean beach whiff.  Some fresh apricot and red hots candy.  Very spirity.  After some time opening up, the whisky releases a tiny bit of oak character in mild vanilla and caramel.  The palate starts out hot and needs some air.  It holds the farmy peat, but it's subtler than in the 3.1.  There's a sugary sweetness, that I believe comes from the spirit rather than the oak.  Lots of salty oceanic notes.  But still, most of the peat notes remain mild.  The finish gains a peppery spice.  More the of the salt and ocean.  A little vanilla and burnt wheat bread.  The peat gets mossier.

Where yesterday's 3.1 was loose and soft, likely from some oxidation, today's 5.1 is very tight, likely due to being from the start of the bottle.  I've been finding this top-of-the-bottle tightness from all of the young high strength whiskies I've owned.  I do think think the 3.1's larger oak presence also has a lot to do with its roundness, that's why I keep tying o-a-k in these paragraphs.

Still, the peat will not destroy your palate.  As Jordan mentioned in yesterday's comment section, Bruichladdich's tall stills may be responsible for softening and developing the phenols -- and actually Ralfy has a similar thought in his review of this 5.1, which I just caught this morning..

Like Kilchoman's products, Octomore is a young whisky that tastes and noses very well.  The financial quandary is this, you can buy 5-year-old Kilchoman single cask bottlings ($100, limited to 200-300 bottles each) twice over for the price of the regular 5-year-old Octomores ($200, limited to 18,000 bottltes each), and while a very small business runs Kilchoman, a large international corporation operates Bruichladdich.  Not sure if that influences your choices, but I think about that sort of stuff all the time.

Tomorrow, I'll review the Taste Off's concluding Octomore.  One that is not quite like the others...

Availability - Many specialty US liquor retailers

Pricing - $160-$220

Rating - 86

Single Malt Report: Octomore 3.1 / 3_152

Octomore 3.1 / 3_152.  Its name looks like a eight-limbed military robot prototype.  But it ain't no war machine, it's a peat machine.  Let's break down that name.  Octomore is named after a farm that sits on a hill above Port Charlotte on The Rhinns of Islay (the peninsula on the west coast).  In the early 1800s, a distillery was built on the farm that utilized their own barley for malt whisky.

Today, "Octomore" is being produced at the Bruichladdich distillery by the same folks who make the "Port Charlotte" whiskies.  This particular version of Octomore is the Third Edition, thus the "3".  Many of the editions have sub-editions, usually with different maturation techniques, thus the ".1" designation.  "3_152" says that this third edition has a phenol level of 152 parts per million.

The Octomores are the most heavily peated single malts in the world.  That's been their calling card.  The ppm levels for the six regular editions have ranged from 131 to 169.  Compare that to the standard Lagavulin and Laphroaig levels of 35-40ppm.  Ardbeg's malt has 55ppm and their own peat experiment, Supernova, reached 100ppm.  I've been told the key to Octomore's extra high peat levels is moisture.  Manipulating moisture levels in the peat and barley allows more smoke to be generated and phenols to be absorbed.  (By the way, if anyone knows that I've been given erroneous info on this last part, please let me know.)

To me, the Octomores are a stunt.  They are experiments.  But they are also VERY expensive whiskies, as in $200 for a five year old.  And it's not a single cask whisky.  There are 18,000 bottles released for each expression.  My feelings about the pricing have, in the past, influenced my opinion of the whisky itself.  Also, my previous three Octomore tries have been in circumstances that did not lend themselves to full appreciation of any sort of whisky.

Thanks to two different readers, I was able to look past the pricing issues, sit down with THREE different Octomores side-by-side in my dining room and suss them out.  Daniel, a professional DJ and a well-versed whisky man, brought over two of the Octomores.  Eric S., a very generous anorak from the Lone Star State, sent the third Octomore I brought to the table.

Daniel and I dug into the Octomore three-for-all...

courtesy of Daniel's camera

OCTOMORE 3.1 / 3_152

Distillery: Bruichladdich
Brand: Octomore

Ownership: Remy Cointreau

Region: Islay

Type: Single Malt Whisky

Maturation: Bourbon barrels

Age: 5 years

Alcohol by Volume: 59.0%
PPM: 152
Limited release: 18,000 bottles

The color, a medium gold, is actually the darkest of the three, leading me to consider there's a large factor of first-fill or heavier-charred casks in the mix.  The nose is the most farmy of the three as well.  Quite some manure.  Ocean notes arise, but not of a clean clear ocean, rather something more like Long Beach: the waters of an industrial port.  There's a friendly back-and-forth between sugary lemon rinds and something meaty-savory.  Maybe some roasted nuts in there too.  A veggie peat note pops up at the end, reminiscent of bean sprouts.  Some very palatable peat on the palate, considering its levels.  Vanilla peat perhaps?  A little mild cheese, pleasantly bitter black tea, and a green herbal note as well.  Give it some time for some rich toasted oak and yeasty bread notes to appear.  The finish is mellow, but very long.  There's the vanilla and caramel from the oak, toasted peat from the malting floor, and a bright herbal-ness from the spirit.

Keep in mind, this sampling came from near the bottom of the 3.1's bottle.  It had been decanted into a smaller bottle, but there's a chance a little bit of oxidation was involved which may have made the ABV feel softer.  So that's my disclaimer.  Otherwise, this was darned good.

One thing I've noticed with all the Octomores I've tried is that despite their extreme PPMs, the drinker isn't cloaked in smoke nor blinded by iodine and medicinal sharpness.  You can actually experience more peat aggression in the official Laphroaig CSs or some Port Charlottes or The Corryvreckan.  It's almost as if there's so much peating going on with the Octomores that the drinker goes right through the peat wall and into the other side, finding a controlled, mossy, coastal, toasty Islay malt.  We'll see this happen with the next two Octomores as well...

Availability - Getting tough to find, maybe a dozen retailers around the world

Pricing - $170-$250 (still, unforgivable)

Rating - 88 (after further consideration, I've adjusted the rating from its original four stars)