The Macallan Harmony Collection: Delicious Things Come In Enormous Packages
Every year, starting in September, ramping up through the fall and tapering off after New Year’s, large, ornately decorated and expertly constructed boxes containing alcohol, glassware, often barware, and various other cool items arrive on my doorstep. The packages range in size from large jewelry boxes to veritable pieces of furniture — one of them was the size of a whiskey barrel sawed through lengthwise, and contained three full bottles of tequila, several tasting glasses, a cutting board, and I forget what else. Now, I have absolutely no right to complain about these things, and you’re not about to catch me kvetching about being sent delicious booze in suitcase-sized containers, some of them so finely crafted that they should be passed down as family heirlooms. I do, however, have a problem, and I’ll place the blame squarely on myself: I live in an apartment. It’s a pretty nice sized apartment by Manhattan standards, but I still have room for only so many elaborate branded mini-credenzas. And while I’d love to keep them all, eventually, something’s got to give — me or the boxes. And I’m not gonna be the one who moves out. So far too many of these beautiful boozy sarcophagi wind up in the recycling bin.
All of that is my prelude to saying the box that showed up from the Macallan last month is pretty spectacular even by my jaded standards. It was made in a limited edition of 300 to celebrate the debut of their new Harmony Collection, a new series of whiskies which, it says in the gorgeous wooden box in which it came, “shines a spotlight on the Macallan’s sustainability journey and intrinsic connection to nature.” Um, OK! The first single malt in the series, Rich Cacao, is meant to pair with chocolate, and as important as I consider sustainability, that’s the part of the equation that really got my blood pumping. To sweeten the deal (pun intended), they included a box of chocolates from the fancy-shmancy California-based chocolatier Compartés specifically designed to pair with the whisky.
My wife and I are planning to start dieting in January 2nd (not the 1st, when we usher in the new year with a traditional lunch of greasy burgers), so our window to gorge on chocolate and Scotch was rapidly closing. Tonight, we went for the gusto, broke out our Macallan-branded Glencairn glasses, and set to tasting. The whisky on its own is extremely delicious. We don’t drink that much Macallan for pleasure, even though it’s quite pleasurable when we do drink it. I just don’t find myself craving sherried malts all that often, and I generally drink enough of them for work (meaning I’m at an event or have an assignment to write about them) anyway. But this was a real treat — the rancio often associated with sherried whisky wasn’t all that present, with the fruity/nutty notes dialed down and sumptuous dark chocolate, vanilla and cinnamon flavors ramped up.
The first four chocolates featured a different flavor component of the whisky (cinnamon, vanilla, date, honey) enrobed in a rich chocolate ganache, and it was fascinating to see how the Rich Cacao played off each of them. The missus and I both loved the date-infused chocolate, which gave the whisky a very elegant, dry flavor. The final chocolate, which was infused with the whisky itself, was fun to pair but not revelatory. We’ll definitely be going back to the whisky and pairing it with whatever chocolate we’ve got handy — I think we’ve got some mini Nestle Crunch bars around here somewhere.
As for the box… well, it’s supposedly recyclable and biodegradable, having been made in large part from discarded cacao husks, which is actually pretty cool. But it looks so damn nice — and my cat enjoys sitting on it — that I may just have to figure out some alternative use for it. Storing Christmas ornaments, maybe. It’s almost time to take the tree down, after all.
Oh, and if you’re wondering why I didn’t write this up for some publication or other, it’s because the damn thing was already sold out by the time I pitched it. And editors don’t like giving ink to something their readers can’t buy. In this case, at least, it’s not my fault.