Jake Saunders, Editor at Large
There are few pleasures in life that rival the pairing of a fine cigar with a dram of excellent whiskey. At the Whiskey Library in Resorts World Manila, I found myself in precisely that sweet spot—surrounded by shelves that seemed to groan under the weight of liquid gold from every corner of the world.
As a man of habit, I confess my loyalty lies with Laphroaig 10 Years. Its peaty punch and medicinal tang are like an old friend who never fails to remind me of windswept Scottish coasts. Yet, the sheer breadth of the Library’s collection was staggering—something for every palate, from the honeyed smoothness of Speyside malts to the bold spice of Kentucky bourbons. It was like stepping into Aladdin’s cave, only instead of jewels, there were bottles whispering promises of smoky nights and spirited debates.
The lounge itself was dressed in grandeur: leather armchairs that seemed to embrace you like a long-lost uncle, polished wood that gleamed under soft lighting, and the faint perfume of cigars lingering in the air. Comfort was not just offered—it was insisted upon.
But alas, no paradise is without its serpent. The music, though energetic, was far too loud and far too modern—a thumping beat more suited to a disco than a whiskey-and-cigar sanctuary. One does not swirl a glass of Islay malt to the rhythm of EDM. A touch of jazz, blues, or even Sinatra would have been the proper soundtrack. Still, one learns to laugh at such incongruities; after all, even Churchill himself once quipped, “I have taken more out of alcohol than alcohol has taken out of me.”
I was not alone in my indulgence. My companions that evening were none other than the legendary Florida private detective Ollie Phipps—whose tales could fill volumes—and his sharp-witted local attorney friend. Between the three of us, the conversation flowed as freely as the whiskey, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional puff of contemplative smoke.
It was, all in all, a splendid evening. Nostalgia hung in the air like cigar smoke—reminding me of old lounges where men debated philosophy, politics, and the mysteries of life over amber spirits. The Whiskey Library may have missed a note on the soundtrack, but it struck all the right chords in spirit, selection, and camaraderie.
And so, as I leaned back into the leather embrace of my chair, glass in hand, I thought of Mark Twain’s immortal line: “Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.”
