Wednesday, March 13, 2013

The New Pope

Why was this man praying in the center of the Vatican City?
He saw black smoke billowing from the roof of the Sistine Chapel at today's 12 noon decision.
This afternoon, I went to the Piazza of St. Peters to see if the New Pope would be chosen. After the black smoke appeared, everyone went on their way hoping the Cardinals would make a final vote later this evening.  The single-man pilgrimage stuck around just a little longer to change the world through prayer.

Seven hours later, I received notice that white smoke came from the pipe sticking out of the Sistine Chapel. It wasn't through an email, it wasn't from a phone call.  In typical Roman fashion when new Popes are named, the bells of all the city's Catholic churches rang across Rome.  This bell, at St. Peter's Basilica, is the first one that starts the chain reaction.
When I heard the church bells in my neighborhood just now, I knew it could mean just one thing: the New Pope was elected, and this rainy afternoon crowd quadrupled in attendance because everyone rushed over to Piazza San Pietro.
I'm wishing I was able to make it over there for the announcement tonight. It would have been crowded, rainy, and I likely would have been tired standing on my feet for hours.  But it would have been something truly amazing to squish my way into the masses. Congratulations Pope Francesco (Francis in English)!

Sunday, March 10, 2013

Scotch Festival in Rome

It was always an uphill battle.  I wanted to like scotch. I had these visions that I could fit in with the elite 19th century aristocracy, complete with long tailed black coat with two columns of large buttons tightly covering my white shirt with black tie. Most importantly, a thick, handlebar mustache. No doubt, a tall, black top hat would help distinguish myself from the ruffians who couldn't afford such high quality marks of income. In the comforts of an exclusive men's club where the scents of fine leather and tobacco pervade the eyes and nose, the ensemble would be perfected with the perfect glass of single malt whiskey freshly imported from my friend's (read: he's in my pocket) distributorship.

But no matter what I tried in the past, I just couldn't get into scotch. It wasn't the more modern atmosphere that made it difficult. I recently learned it was the lack of tasting these fine spirits from the northern land.
The Spirit of Scotland only lasted two days so better be ready for it next year!
This weekend was Rome's second annual scotch festival in Rome, called the Spirit of Scotland. Master classes, food pairings, smoked salmon, artisanal chocolate and more complemented the multitude of direct label and local vendor tables. If you had a favorite brand, it was likely represented.
The Spirit of Scotland scotch festival was held in a beautiful event space in Rome: the Aranciera di San Sisto.
Because I am an amateur scotch enthusiast, I did some research before on a few various sites to find the best single malt scotches on the market.  This was a smart move because I wasn't entering blindly.  I had fun searching through the tables for particular bottles and when I found the exact brand and vintage, it felt like a major win.
The scotch festival was small but great for scotch enthusiasts of all degrees.
All in all, I was able to sample some of Scotland's finest. Some were smokey, lightly briny. Some bordered on sweet with notes of honey or fruit like green apples.  And then others were floral and grassy. To try some of the best out there was a true pleasure, and I would recommend to all, handle bar mustache or not, go to next year's Scotch Festival in Rome.
This fine gentleman offered a 35 year old scotch tasting.  It was far too expensive for my amateur palate at 8 euro for a finger's worth.
 In the end, I was lucky enough to choose the following samples:

  • Highland Park 18 Years Old
  • Laphroaig 21 Years Old
  • Glenmorangie 18 Years Old
Coming here with three other friends, however, allowed me to try approximately 15 total scotches.  Consider me converted.
I went here for the Glenlivet 15 year old French Oak Reserve.  They told me the bottle was too good for samples.  It was a purchase-only bottle. (super sad face)