Friday 12 October 2007--I leave Plockton late in the morning. Drive up Glen Shiel and through Spean Bridge,
and stop briefly in Dalwhinnie. Through Aberfeldy and then the wild Sma' Glen I go, arriving in Crieff at about 4:30pm.
Crieftan--Kenny--arrives a short while later with his wife ("Mrs Crieftan"). They drive me to their lovely home in
farm country on the edge of town, where I meet three cats, four chickens, and a dog. Kenny dips into his cabinet for
several drams, including a Cadenheads Rosebank, a couple of Glenturrets, and a vintage Old Pulteney. The couple asks
if I would like to eat in or out; I opine that it might be fun to survey some of Crieff's public houses.
There has been some discussion on the whisky forums as to whether Mrs Crieftan is a real person, or a figment of
Kenny's fevered imagination. I look for signs that this charming woman might in fact be a hired actress. Then I witness
this exchange:
Mrs C: "Should I wear this blouse [the one she is wearing], or this one [held aloft for inspection]?"
Kenny: "The one you have on is fine." She goes to change, anyway. Verdict: Absolutely, definitely, genuine
married couple.
After experiencing the finest hostelries in Crieff, I come to the inevitable conclusion that the best place to
drink in town by far is Crieftan's cabinet. And judging from his robust physique, I'd wager Mrs C's table is the best place
to eat! Next year I'll see if I can wheedle another invitation to eat in.
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