Dinner at the Ambassador's

Sandeep Arora is standing in the middle of his living room, his eyes misted over with what looks like love. “She looks like a shy one, only 18 years old,” he says. “Beautiful colouring, such a delicate nose. But wow, just look at those legs! They’re so strong and firm. They refuse to come down, they’re taunting you! ‘I won’t come down! I won’t!’”

He’s holding up a glass of Bruichladdich 18 yo, an astonishingly high-end single malt Scotch (at Rs 2,000 per dram), tipping it this way and that, and urging me to come and look. “The legs, my friend—that’s how you tell the character of the whisky.”

I’ve come to Arora’s apartment in Gurgaon to experience an “appreciation” at the hands of India’s foremost whisky appreciator. It’s what Arora does for a living—with great theatre and gusto, he shows India’s upper crust how to appreciate whiskies. And not just any whiskies, but the finest single malts known to man. In Arora’s world, the cheapest dram is roughly Rs 9,000, and the youngest bottles are 30 years old.

At this point in this country, no one is quite so uniquely qualified for the task— he’s not only India’s only qualified ambassador of whisky, but he’s the exclusive representative for all kinds of whisky properties—there’s the Rare Whisky Collection, through the William Grant Distillery in Scotland (Glenfiddich), two other single malts (Springbank and Bruichladdich), Whisky Magazine which will launch , and the biggest whisky event in the world, “Whisky Live” which he’s bringing to India for the first time in January. In this whisky nation, only Arora has carved himself a professional niche at the absolute stratosphere of the market.

The typical Arora appreciation takes place over a sumptuous six course dinner, perhaps in the private dining room of a five-star restaurant, or an enthusiast’s mansion, or on a bespoke whisky cruise. Arora does three or four of these per month at a lakh and a half per throw— nice work if you can get it. But MORE is getting the special treatment—a private one-on-one appreciation at Arora’s home.

At first he insisted that I bring some girls—his second great obsession beside single malts. “They’re the future of this market,” he reasoned, “30 per cent of topend single malts are enjoyed by women!” I explained that, at such short notice, my wife was the best I could do. And so here we are, on Sandeep’s sofa—already half cut and we’re barely on the appetisers. “Some people just put six glasses in front of you and talk about heather and honey and peat. Where’s the romance?” he scoffs. “I’m taking you on a journey!”

Our voyage began with Indian whisky— the molasses-based drek like The Great Indian Malt, which Arora compares to “sucking on a pencil.” We moved swiftly on through Royal Mist and McDowell’s Single Malt—all Indian spirits and all third division efforts. And then it was time for Johnnie Walker Black Label, ice and soda, which has traditionally defined India’s upper end Scotch palate.

“You like that hmm? Smoky. Nice. OK, Gauri?” He calls his wife. “Get them seekh kebabs, mutton, green mint chutney and toothpicks. No plates.” Gauri happily heads to the kitchen. It’s a classic pairing, the Black label mellowing the spicy meat. I’m ready for a top-up but Arora cuts me off. “Just wait till we get to the single malts!”

For hours we sit rooted to the sofa while Arora opens up the world he knows best. He switches on his “whisky music”—a collection of country and western songs with “whisky” in the title—and goes into rhapsodies about casks and grains, often disappearing off to his bedroom only to return with a fresh bottle and a glint in his eye. Meanwhile, Gauri keeps coming with the food pairings— pates on crispbread, sausage on a stick, zucchini paste, cold cuts. They’re a joy to watch, such consummate hosts.

And we’re learning so much sitting here, getting steadily sozzled. We learn about the five regions in Scotland, the different malt characters they produce. The malts in the lowlands, like Glenkinchie, are traditionally gentler, mellower. And up in the highlands, they’re more fierce—we try a “headstrong” 12-year-old Dalmore.

“This will go to the middle of your nose and pinch you till you wince!” Then it’s off to Speyside, home of the big guns like Glenfiddich and Glenlivet, before trying the Islay malts, which vary wildly in personality. Arora’s choice is the 12-year-old Laphroaig. “If the lowland was a Lambretta, this is a Harley Davidson.”

We learn, for example, that one should always nose a whisky at an angle rather than straight on, in order to properly grasp its subtleties. And one should nose it twice—once again after adding a few drops of water, which opens it up, separating the oils. We learn that malts, like people, go through their most dramatic changes in their youth, at 12, 15, 18 or 21 years. After 30, they’re rather set in their ways. (Though unlike people, they still improve).

We rub a few drops of a lowland malt together in our hands until we can smell the peat, the earth, the wood—a wonderful organic aroma. Arora immediately runs off to his bedroom to bring us a lump of peat. “That’s 83 years old!” he exclaims. This is what a whisky obsession means—you start collecting peat.

For Arora, the obsession took time to take hold. He first tried a 10-year-old Talisker at 22 and it didn’t do much for him—too sharp, too strong, he couldn’t connect. In those days he was a vodka drinker who graduated to champagne, still one of his enduring passions.

But as he matured, a form of malt madness set in. He was working in communications for the telecom industry mostly—he was with Modi Telstra when they launched the first ever mobile phone service in India in 1995. And come 2000, he began to notice a shift towards luxury in India.

“I knew the world of luxury somewhat because of my social environment—I had travelled quite extensively, I knew people where money was plentiful,” he says. “And I saw that they were open to new things, the environment was changing. It was a good time to be an entrepreneur. So, I jumped.”

From a standing start, Arora became the exclusive representative for William Grant’s rare whisky collection in India. He met with the office in India, went to Hong Kong for his interviews and signed the contract on 18th December 2002. It was a giant leap.

“Of course, it was scary,” says Gauri. “The market didn’t even exist! Most people plant seeds for their new business while they’re in their old job—then they jump over.”

“That’s the wise choice. But I was otherwise!” exclaims Sandeep. “I always thought there were three kinds of luxury. The kind where you have a Rolex watch and you want to show it off. The kind where you don’t express your lifestyle outside, but you have a lovely home and lovely silverware—you show off at home. And then there’s the kind where it doesn’t matter if people know or not—you’ve reached that stage, it’s just your own taste, quite natural. That was the section I was aiming for—people who are beyond the branded commodity segment.” It wasn’t the easiest sell. Exorbitant whiskies for the tiniest sliver of a market.

“At a time when hotels were buying Black Label at Rs 700 per bottle—that was the hotel rate—I was telling them that my cheapest bottle was Rs 30,000. And I wanted 100 per cent payment in advance. No free samples, no coasters or glasses. People felt sorry for me—look at this poor guy, he’s got a family, trying to sell these whiskies. They took me to lunch out of pity!”

Then the Taj Palace Hotel in Mumbai bit in 2003. And in 2004, the ITC group went for Arora’s pitch. The world of high-end spirits was opening up. And as he became busier, Arora educated himself— in 2006, he took the test at the Glenfiddich brand ambassador’s academy in Aberdeen. And he has been returning to Scotland ever since, spending weeks at distilleries, learning whisky first hand.

In 2008, he visited six times, and he can reel off the distilleries he’s spent time with— Laguvillan, Bruichladdich, Tobermory, Springbank, the list goes on. Sometimes he returns with contracts to represent them in India. (It’s no accident that most of the whiskies I’m drinking tonight, are those with whom he’s professionally related).

He also returns with souvenirs— lumps of peat and paintings of the Scottish countryside, and bottles, beautifully sculpted in carved wooden boxes, with exquisitely calligraphed certificates of authenticity.

“Look at this for romance!” says Arora, opening up a cherry wood box. “This 1973 Glenfiddich—they only made 420 bottles, that’s it! And this Ladyburn, there’s only 14 bottles left in the world. They closed it in 1975. This bottle will cost you Rs 60,000. Come let’s have a dram!” He puts the bottle away and produces a sample bottle, the style of a cough syrup bottle, except with clear glass.

There’s no label, just a white sticker on the bottle with some rudimentary information—the distillery, the year, the signature of the malt master. It’s all very clinical. He pours out a measure and holds it under my nose. “This is what the rare whisky collection means—this one is so rare, it’s extinct! When people ask for 10 bottles, I give them 3—because the bottles don’t exist!”

It’s nearly midnight by the time dinner is served and the wife and I are both slurry. Inevitable, really. The collection we’ve tried is practically taking up the whole coffee table—at least 18, I’d say. Not that I”d trust my ability to count at this stage. Gauri’s holding it together— she seldom drinks whisky anyway, far preferring wine. And Sandeep’s sober enough—he doesn’t actually drink until the appreciation is over.

Besides, he has dinner to take care of—every course has been personally prepared to match the malts. “It’s a grazing menu, so we can try several pairings,” he explains. “And we’re going around the world! From Japan to Ireland, to Sweden. I’ll introduce you to a lovely Swede, she seems innocent, but she’s naughty too...”

Everything is perfectly arranged. The collection of glassware we try, the different kinds of chilled water we drink to clear our palates, from Sweden, from Ireland. Even the desserts are whisky themed, rich chocolate cake made with Makers Mark bourbon. And after dinner, finally, Sandeep relaxes and has a dram with us—an 18-year-old Bruichladdich.

“Come and look at this,” he says, leading me to his bedroom. One of his wardrobes is stuffed with bottles. “This is nothing,” he says. “There are people with huge collections, but they’ll never show you. They don’t want the excise people to come after them!”

Clearly, Arora is onto something. The realm of pinnacle whiskies is expanding in India, and it’s all happening in 2009— he’s bringing the whisky expo, Whisky Live, to New Delhi on January 31, launching Whisky Magazine in spring sometime and starting a women’s whisky club called Angel’s Share.

He’s also pursuing the notion of whisky spas—a holiday concept in which appreciations and dinners are followed by spa treatments and naps. At this point, the nap part sounds just heavenly. According to Sandeep’s records, we’ve tried 24 malts in this sitting. Any more, and I’ll be hearing bagpipes in my sleep.

“Another idea I had is Home Bars,” he says. “In the downturn, people are thinking more about entertaining at home.” Entertaining at home? Now that’s something Arora really knows about.

The menu Twenty-four malts in a sitting, and food pairings all the way. Little wonder we were feeling it the next day. Pre-Prandial Glenkinchie 10 yo (Lowland) – gentle, soft with Crispies & Pesto Sauce Glenfiddich 1975 (Speyside) – rich, fruity Dalmore 12 yo (Highland) – fierce, headstrong, with Olive Pate Springbank 10 yo (Campbeltown) – delicate, shy, with Sundried Tomatoes Talisker Distillery Edition 1991 (Isle of Skye) – rich, grainy, with Salami Rolls Laphroaig 10 yo (Islay) – firm nose, with Pepper Sausages Tobermory 15 yo (Isle of Mull) – robust, strong, with Crispies & Mushroom Glenfiddich 40 yo (Speyside) – Rare Whisky Collection Ladyburn 1973 (Lowland) – gentle, floral hues Jura Superstition 16 yo (Isle of Jura) – smoky, with a gentle finish Bunnahabhain 18 yo (Islay) – warm and salty Ardmore Single Malt (Highland) – oaky tones with peat reflection Kilbeggan 15 yo (Ireland) – peaty, gentle Bowmore 17 yo (Islay) – quiet aggression Glenmoranagie (Highland) – floral with honey Bruichladdich 16 yo Château Margaux Finish – soft oak Nikka Pure Malt 17 yo (Japan) – stirring taste Dinner Fish and Grilled Tomatoes with Yamazaki 12 yo (Japan) – pure, mellow Pepper Chicken with Girvan 1964 (Scotland) – toasty, oaky Wheat Pasta in a Cream sauce with Preludium Svensk (Sweden) – soft, innocuous Boti Kebab with Connemara Peated Irish Whiskey (Ireland) – peaty, smokey Makers`s Mark Toffee Pudding with Ginger & Orange Marmalade Post-dinner Drams Bruichladdich 18 yo (Islay) – crème brulee, apricots Strathisla 25 yo (Speyside) – honey, more honey