Growing up, I remember watching my dad and his friends gather around the dining table, a bottle of the finest whisky in the centre, glasses half-filled, catching the light from the dim kitchen bulbs. Their laughter echoed through the house, their voices overlapping in a symphony of memories, debates about politics, and good-natured arguments about who knows what. They came from different walks of life, all first generation Canadians, with a shared bond that time and distance never seemed to weaken.
As a kid, I didn’t think much of it. To me, it was just another evening where the adults loudly took over the dining room while I played and entertained myself. But looking back, I realize it was more than just a regular “party” – this was their tradition.
This was the way they stayed connected, how they honoured their friendships despite the demands of work, family, and the relentless march of time.
Now as an adult, I see the pattern repeating. My own friends and I have scattered across different cities and provinces, our daily lives filled with our careers, relationships, and responsibilities that don’t leave much room for spontaneity anymore. We don’t see each other daily like we used to. Yet when we do, we pick up right where we left off – we are around a table, with food in our stomachs, and drinks like whisky in our glasses.
I remember the first time I noticed that we were doing the exact same thing as my dad and his friends. We were 20-something years old hanging out at my friend's place. We were sitting in the living room, chatting, while a bottle of whisky (a bottle not as luxurious as my Dad’s) sat in the centre. At the time I thought, “oh – we’re getting old.”
But as the years passed, this pattern continued. Eventually, this has become a tradition for us as well – with better taste in whisky included.
Whether first, second, or even third-generation Canadian, many of us share this experience of gathering, eating, drinking, and reconnecting. And it’s not about “drinking” – it’s about carving out a space where time slows down, where we can share our joys and grievances, reminisce about the past, and talk about the future.
I used to think closeness was measured in frequency, that true friendship meant seeing each other often, sharing every milestone in real-time. But I’ve come to understand that the strength of a bond isn’t in the number of messages exchanged or the frequency of visits. It’s in knowing that no matter how much time has passed, the moment we sit down together, everything feels just as it was. The jokes land, the memories get retold with even more embellishment and drama each time, and yet, we feel the same warmth that we felt when we were younger.
In a way, it’s comforting to know that this tradition doesn’t fade. As my dad and his friends once did, my friends and I now carry it forward. One day, I imagine, we’ll sit at the table with our own children watching from the sidelines, oblivious to the significance of it all until they too find themselves in our shoes.
I would like to raise our glasses to the past, the present, and the future, to the dinners that turn into late nights, to the whisky that fuels our stories, and most of all, to the friendships that withstand the test of time.
No matter where life takes us, the table will always be there, waiting for us to return with our stories and our bottles.
Looking for Canadian Whisky to try? Try these Canadian bottles to replace your American brands:
