When I set off on my short trip to the Scottish Highlands, I had two major goals with me: to explore the unknown world of whisky (don’t you dare call it whiskey around here!) and its intriguing pairings with food, and to meet the fairies who in local folk culture are so discreet and, at the same time, so present. Today, looking back, I imagine there is a reason that in this wild land, with its soft light and time so slowly stretched out, whisky and fairies live in symbiosis in the habits and minds of its inhabitants.
As for me, I was probably more skeptical about tackling a nine-course dinner pairing with nine different types of whisky than about meeting the full genealogy of Ghillie Dhu, the solitary, black-haired fairy man who wanders, wild and taciturn, through the Scottish forests and highlands. I hoped that perhaps, exhausted after a day of tastings, sitting on a wooden bench by the Spey, I might at least catch a glimpse of him.
So this idea of a journey was born: a search for what should never have existed, and for what I, instead, should have expected from four intense days in one of the most beautiful and highly regarded whisky regions: Speyside. Located within the broader Highlands area, it differs somewhat in style, and also a little thanks to a touch of chauvinism that never hurts.
We all set off full of enthusiasm with our tasting plans, in what is probably the area with the highest density of distilleries. I, however, unlike my companions, had in mind a constant attraction to what in Scotland they call “fairy,” something enchanted.
I discover that in the town where we are staying, Aberlour, there is an important reference to Scottish folklore linked to the fairies: Fairy Knowe, a very small hill also used by the Picts as a “burial hill” and which, for the local residents, has something mystical about it, connected precisely to the “hidden folk.” It is not found on maps, it is difficult to locate, but the local people somehow continue to venerate it. It will be one of the key stops on my journey.
But let’s start with the whisky, partly because my friends might have drowned me in the Spey if I had kept tormenting them with my fantasies. And, after all, it wasn’t a bad place to start.
A wonderful immersive experience from the very first day: many distilleries, with their aromas and a truly rich history.
I don't like naming names; I don't find it important. What was important was understanding how deeply rooted whisky production is in the local culture: something almost sacred. What struck me right away was the deep connection with nature. With the streams whose waters every single distillery jealously guards, as if they were magical.
And to them, they are.
At each of the distilleries we visited, they proudly told us how that small tributary of the Spey, from which they drew their miraculous water, was used solely and exclusively by them, making the product unique. And it was precisely from here that I began to reconsider what is truly “fairy” in their culture, in their way of life, in this environment that is sometimes harsh but highly spectacular. Their devotion to their springs is something you can clearly sense. Some even make it almost sacred, creating flowerbeds to protect their secret, dedicated to the local fairies, complete with plaques.
So my second great hunt was beginning to take on truly concrete form. Meanwhile, time was passing slowly in this immense expanse of blinding light, where even gravity seemed to take on different contours. The tastings alternated, and I couldn’t find my Fairy Knowe, but I could feel it.
Whisky was teaching me something that is often too underrated: patience and the pleasure of enjoying idle time, stretched out.
As if we were all constantly waiting for an inescapable beauty. After all, what could be more incomprehensible to us than to think of a place where you can easily make an excellent beer (all the early stages of whisky production and the raw materials are absolutely identical to those of beer!), but instead choose to make life more complicated, distill, wait years, and take on every risk just to produce whisky?
None of the distilleries we saw in Speyside—not one, and I stress not one—produces even a tiny amount of beer, even though they could and even though it would make commercial sense. They don’t even consider it. And you don’t expect it either, once you really begin to grasp their slow way of thinking.
Finally, the long-awaited day of the tasting dinner arrives: 9 courses paired with 9 different whiskies. In the days leading up to it, I had already gotten a few hints of how a good whisky can be perfectly matched with a very local dessert, sticky toffee pudding, with which it pairs wonderfully. But the nine-course dinner intrigued me far too much.
Even the weather was cooperating, shifting from the typical fine Scottish rain to days when glimpses of clear sky would peek through. Before setting off, I decide to seize the opportunity and go in search of “my” Fairy Knowe. And finally I find it, on a little hidden hill just above Aberlour. I take it as a good sign, toward dinner and toward the final understanding of what I had considered so distant from me.
So we head off, energized and ready for anything, to a magnificent place (which, even on this occasion, I prefer not to name). They immediately surprise us with a welcome cocktail: sparkling wine mixed with whisky, which instantly puts us in a good mood.
Dinner proves to be a rewarding journey, full of contrasts and camaraderie. A trip through culinary cultures: from Jerez to Mexico City, from New York to Hong Kong, and then back to Scotland. As the courses go by, all my preconceptions about food-and-whisky pairings are swept away.
Aromatic complexity, combined with freshness, citrus and saline notes, toastiness, breadth, and depth, can create, depending on the style, a truly unique dialogue with dishes.
The most successful pairings? An appetizer of toasted barley, smoked celeriac purée and apple, with a whisky featuring notes of dried fruit and candy, with vanilla on the palate. Then a game main course: partridge fillet with a whisky, vanilla and smoked grape sauce, paired with a deep, lingering spirit with subtle notes of chocolate.
By the end of this experience, I have to admit it: I come away from it fully convinced. Whisky is a multifaceted, complex drink, full of possibilities. It’s magical. And I have to tell you that on the last evening, before leaving, in the sunset light cast over the Spey, perhaps I really did catch a glimpse of my fairies.
