Former South Thomaston Selectman (and failed congressional candidate) John Purcell takes a few things seriously: extreme right-wing politics, personal explosives, firearms, neo-Southern hospitality and single malt whiskey.

The transplanted Charleston, S.C., resident combined two of these loves last week when he invited thawing Mainers to a (free) single malt whiskey tasting at his downtown cigar bar, Club Habana.

There, surrounded by a bevy of Club Habana waitresses, sixth-generation Scotsman and “whiskey master” Michael Ring explained the crucial differences between a variety of increasingly popular single malts. The single malt market is expanding by about 25 percent a year, as whiskey drinkers become more demanding and sophisticated in their tastes, he said.

The whiskey master title is largely a ceremonial one, earned after many grueling tours of the distilleries and endless training and seminars.

“So many people think that scotch is bad, a drink of their fathers,” Ring said. It is his job as a whiskey master to break down those barriers in tastings all across the South.

Nice work if you can get it.

Whiskey can trace its origins to the 1300s, when Irish (who else) monks decided to put the perishable grains of the region to good use. It was first made as an “herb wine” used both as medicine and anesthetic for town barbers, the doctors of the age.

Although “the Irish invented whiskey, we like to say that the Scotch perfected it,” Ring said. Where most Irish whiskeys are distilled once, most scotches are distilled two or even three times and often aged longer, he said during the tasting.

This was no drunken bacchanal. Ring handed out a few spoonfuls of each whiskey at a time as he explained the derivation and composition of the whiskeys. The tasting consisted of OBan, Lagavulin, Talisker, Cragganmore, Dalwhinnie, and Glenkinchie.

Scotch is an acquired taste, one which I have acquired over the years. But single malt is an even more acquired taste, one which I don’t plan on adopting during this lifetime.

Even “whiskey master” Ring described the Talisker taste as akin to a Band-Aid. He said drinking Lagavulin was like “getting hit in the head with a smoky 2-by-4.” Cragganmore tasted, he said “like old socks.”

The salesman did not sell me. The appeal of the peaty, smoky mixtures is beyond me.

Apparently the feeling is widespread across the planet. Ring said South Americans mix Johnny Walker with orange juice. The Chinese mix whiskey with green tea.

In Europe, “Johnny” is mixed with Coke, an act considered heresy by many longtime scotch drinkers.

“You don’t have to drink scotch straight or on the rocks anymore. Not at all. It depends on your taste,” he said.

He recommends that scotches such as Dalwhinnie be kept in the freezer, akin to the vodka tradition. “It makes the whiskey more viscous and richer, while cutting the fumes and burn,” he said.

Makes you wonder why so many people are working so hard to hide the taste of these whiskeys.

Once the tasting was over, I had a good old Dewar’s on the rocks to get the “peaty” taste of the single malts out of my mouth. While we watched the New England weather on the Club Habana television, laughing uproariously, Purcell and I smoked a Bolivar Royal Corona cigar.

Warming to his hospitality task, Purcell said the smoke was the highest rated cigar by Cigar Aficionado magazine.

“It’s good to be king,” said Purcell, former South Thomaston selectman and failed congressional candidate.

I kept thinking, whiskey and green tea?

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.