Michael Parker’s passion is the whiskey of Scotland. You can see that passion the minute you walk upstairs at Opal Divine’s Freehouse, the delightful bar and restaurant he owns with Ms. Divine’s granddaughter — who is also his wife, Susan — where they stock 56 whiskeys at the second-floor bar. Not only that, but Michael teaches classes and takes neophytes and experts alike on trips to Scotland. In short, scotch is a big part of his life. But not just any old scotch will do.
“When I was 18, the drinking age was 18, and I’d go to Bennigan’s in College Station for the 11pm to 2am happy hour and drink Glenlivet,” he recalls. He had no interest in other drinks. All of his friends knew that Michael was a serious scotch lover, so, for his 21st birthday, a friend gave him a bottle of “the good stuff”: Laphroaig. He couldn’t believe the difference in taste. Ever since, he has been drawn to it. Little did he know that 19 years later, he would end up owning Austin’s temple to the art of single-malt scotch.
He had a long, strange trip getting there. Michael spent time in the oil exploration business as a doodlebugger (aka general factotum) and also worked as a carpenter. But he finally found happiness when he took the job of bartender at the Dog & Duck Pub, a position he held for “nine years, nine months, and nine days … but who’s counting?” That’s also where he met Susan, who was then managing the place. They decided to start selling some single malts at the Dog & Duck and even offered a “Malt of the Moment” to allow the customers to try more obscure whiskeys. They were both surprised to find out there was a substantial Austin fan base for the spirit.
Michael and Susan wanted to have their own bar. When the old building on West Sixth became available, they looked into leasing it. They signed on the dotted line in mid-February 2000, and, with one month to go, they decided to open Opal Divine’s Freehouse in time for South by Southwest. They undertook the permit process (which usually takes six weeks), but, using the landlord’s catering license, they had the place open by March 13 — just in time to have luminaries like Ray Price and Hank Williams III play.
One of their first investments was in rare, single-malt whiskeys. “Having a big selection of single malts was part of the plan from the beginning. One of our favorite places, Pint’s Pub in Denver, has 140 single-malt whiskeys, and we kind of based our upstairs room on it.”
I was curious about what aspect of Scotch whisky turned him on so much. He loves the purity of whiskey, but no bourbon or rye for him. “It’s really a personal preference,” he said. “I don’t like sweet spirits like bourbons and ryes. The sweetness from a 100-percent barley whiskey is a lot more refined. I just don’t like corn liquor.”
Michael’s passion for whiskey has led to his volunteering at the distillery of Bruichladdich on the island of Islay. There, he swept the floors, rolled casks, filled bottles, and had the time of his life. He worked for Jim McEwan, the whiskey master who won the International Wine & Spirits Competition’s Distiller of the Year award in 1998 and 2000, and who won the same award from the Malt Advocate and Whisky News magazines in 2003. Needless to say, he learned a lot from McEwan.
And since Michael loves passing that knowledge on, people are learning a lot from him. He offers regular classes on single malts at Opal Divine’s, and the culmination of his love for teaching came earlier this year, when he took a group of whiskey lovers on a guided tour of Scotland, a trip he’ll be repeating next year. But even without the benefit of a Scottish jaunt, I learned a lot from him during our talks. One fact I was unaware of concerns the alcohol content of the whiskeys. As it turns out, if they are below a certain percentage level of alcohol, it usually means that they have been cold filtered. While some beer makers may brag about cold filtering, it’s definitely an injustice to whiskey. Typically, if a single malt has an alcohol level below 46% (92 proof), whiskey makers have used cold filtering. The chilling makes the solids harder and sends them sinking to the bottom of the barrel. Filtering at room temperature allows those solids to stay in suspension longer, lending more flavor to the drink.
The extra alcohol gives you enough oomph to let you give the liquor a little kiss of room temperature water. It is a mistake to drink single malts neat and a sacrilege to drink them on the rocks. Michael explains that the proper way to respect your whiskey is to put a little bit of water, maybe a tablespoon, and taste it. You’ll be amazed how the aromas open up. Then try another tablespoon of water and taste again. Eventually, you’ll find the right proportion of water for your taste. Most importantly, he insists on bottled water. The chlorine bleach in Austin’s city water, for instance, destroys the delicate aromas of the scotch. Opal Divine’s Freehouse is the only place I’ve found in town that automatically gives you a side of bottled water when you order a single malt. This attention to detail is one of the things I love about the place.
Michael claims to have about 20 different whiskeys at home and says that he drinks whichever he’s in the mood for. But most people don’t have the room, the money, or the interest to keep a score of single malts lying around. So, I pushed him for his two favorites. “If I had to choose, probably the Ardbeg 10-year-old and Glenfarclas 17-year-old are what I’d choose to keep in my closet. But it’s all a matter of mood.”
The Ardbeg is also one of my favorite libations (see “Scot’s Whiskey: A Personal Appreciation for the Isle of Islay,” below), and it is the Led Zeppelin of whiskeys — big, loud, and in your face. The Glenfarclas is a Speyside whiskey and hews more to a Joni Mitchell flavor — intelligent, elegant, and profound. A taste of the two would give you a good idea of the range of single-malt flavors.
Why single malts over blends? After all, something on the scale of 95% of Scotch whisky sold is blended. Brands like Chivas Regal and Johnnie Walker sell a lot of whiskey. “I’m not against them. Years ago, I drank Dewars,” Michael says. “But honestly, the best thing about blended scotch is that it kept all the little whiskey makers in business for a lot of years so that we can now enjoy them. Blends are about mixing, and I like purity.”
There’s that purity thing again. When asked to define purity, he answers that it means a sense of place. “Single malts are a more pure statement of the whiskey,” he explains. “They taste of the land where it’s from. When you taste Oban whiskey, you taste the sea. When you taste an Islay whiskey, you get the iodine of the seaweed. You can really taste the style. The way they make these whiskeys has worked for hundreds of years, and there’s no reason to mess with it.” 
This article appears in September 5 • 2003.
