Of trout streams and quiet bars
David Coggins' recent article, “The World's Best Bar” from his “The Contender” Substack,1 got me thinking.
“While I sat at a table in the corner there was no place, not a bar, not a trout stream, not a museum gallery, where I’d rather be.”
I thought, a quiet bar, elegant but not pretentious, is indeed a delightful thing. Nearly the equal to a mountain brook trout stream. Similar and comfortable, each in its own way.
“Fewer and fewer public places are unhurried, that feel outside of time. Kronenhalle is an elegant and assured room with the rare confidence to leave us with the pleasure of our own company.”
The things I like best about both venues are just as Coggins describes, the ability to enjoy the pleasure of ones own company. A glass of single malt2 or a well-crafted Boulevardier3 replaces the fly rod. The quiet undercurrent of voices replaces the murmur of the stream over rocks. And the pleasing décor of the bar, a fair substitute for the stream bank. It’s an easy way to enjoy life.
When I fish on my own, the purpose is less about catching a fish and more about the quiet enjoyment of a bucolic setting and the fishing experience. In the bar, it’s the same. The drink is an accompaniment to a tranquil setting to just read, smoke or think.
Some solitude without loneliness. I relish them both.
I heartily recommend subscribing.
Laphroaig or better yet Lagavulin.
Yes on the Lagavulin and also, more importantly, on the last line of your essay. Yes.