Tastes

Irish whiskeys are pretty, unassuming characters, subtle and calm in temperment. This whiskey has a light touch with carmel and oak flavors on the front. This gives way to the peat and smoke. The smoke rolls in rather abruptly and wipes clean any lingering sweetness and ushers in a acrid feeling as it evaporates off your tongue. It's neither pleasant or unpleasant, it just calls for attention in a way you wish it would not. But not for the rapid transition, i think it would be easy to miss the peat flavors that bridge these two distinct tasting portions. There's a moment where it becomes this lush, green flavor - like what one would expect the entire Irish countryside to taste like if you could distill a few square miles. It's an unexpected note that carries you between sweet and smokey. It takes the whiskey from unassuming, to knowing; which makes the wiskey a pleasant dram with a little secret that the two of you share.

Like.. I get that you like corn but do you, like.. *Like like* corn? Ostensibly the mashbill is pretty standard but I get bourbon on turbo. Woodford Reserve uses the same percentages - 72 corn, 18 rye, 10 barley - but produces a smoother product that feels more like what this wants to be. It's hardly bad but I don't think I'd buy it again.

For serious guys, Johnnie Walker makes some good, inexpensive stuff. This one shows the age of the blends - a little smoke, a lot of nice mouth feel, and only a touch of roughness on the edges. I'd still use it in a cocktail sooner than neat but it's entirely reasonable to enjoy with a big ass ice cube at a good bar.

Sure, it's a bourbon. Little cinnamon. Lots of oak. It's a bourbon, sure.

It seems like the gentleman's secret is less sweetness. Typical JD drinks like a cordial but this one feels a sliver away from whisky in hat, if they put a few more years to it, it could hold court with some pretty good scotches. As is, it's a pretty good drink over a little ice in summer if you live in an area where porch sitting is an art. And maybe, if you live where it isn't yet, you can introduce yourself to your neighbor with this whisky and start a good southern renaissance where you live.

I hated this. Like who ruins a good wine by roasting it on a spit? The smoke was acrid and the rye, rather immature and harsh, had nothing but corners to it. It was like drinking a campfire which I gather was the idea. But, really, why take two things so nice on their own, and marry them together in some cowboy fantasy shotgun wedding where the bride ends up drink and sleeping with your ugly cousin?

I had this in a cocktail, which is probably the only way to survive a good white dog. It tried ever so hard to punch me in the teeth but, luckily, I had protection from a decent sweet vermouth and an absurd number of cherries. It was floral, otherwise, and dainty to smell. But in no way was it that nice otherwise. It'll sucker punch you. And some days, that's exactly what you need.