"If I can teach you one thing, don't wash your whisky glass after a night of drinking." He paused. We sat, brows cocked askance. After more than one college-era evening spent abusing spirits (admittedly low-quality ones), I couldn't quite imagine why someone would want to awake to unkempt glasses, reeking reminders of hazy, possibly embarrassing moments. So why was an expert on the stuff entreating us to let our cups rest untouched? "Come morning, a whole new sensory layer awaits," the whisky residue having breathed and blossomed and developed. It isn't so different, I guess, from the old "hair of the dog," is it?
This type of whisky indulgence differs from some of my experiences. It's less about chugging and cheering, and more about patience, learning, absorbing. Whisky Rooms, down a side street just off Tverskaya, is here to reacquaint us with the ancient beverage in a carefully cultivated, speakeasy-style atmosphere.