I’ve never really had scotch.  Sure I love a bourbon or whiskey cocktail, but I’ve never been one to sip on a glass when it’s not mixed with anything; that’s my Bub’s territory.  Drinking scotch is so manly, isn’t it?  Well, being a woman, I still decided to give it a go, given the whole when in Rome situation.  You see, Highlands is a Scotch bar and have about 250 versions of the libations in house.  Maybe I misheard the waiter because that just seems crazy, but they did hand me an encyclopedia of a drink menu so I know they’ve got a lot there.

The decor is what I imagine a library in the mountainous Scottish Highlands would look like.  There’s tartan, wallpaper in deep navys and burgundys, and a deer bust.  It’s mature looking – and Scotch is a mature drink.  They’ve also got some good food with a British flair, like the Scotch egg and pea fritters (though we opted for the lobster salad sliders because it was the last weekend of summer so we just had to).

I love scotch.  Scotch scotch scotch.  Here it goes down.  Down into my belly.  Mm mm mm.