Tastes

Last drink. I want something not too challenging, but not entitely pedestrian. The selection is light here. Perusing, perusing… Crown Royal… No. Gentleman Jack. Ha. No. There’s exactly 4 single malt scotches. Laphroaig 10. Too much. Glenfiddich 12. Not quite enough. Clynelish 14. I do love it, but of course I have an open bottle at home. Baby bear is Balvenie 12. If the selection was better, it wouldn’t even register because I can’t stop being a douchey snob. Boy am I glad the universe conspired. I think this is the best nose I’ve sniffed in years. I watched a YouTube whiskey review and the dude nosed with his mouth open. Looked like a mouth-breathing Neanderthal. But goddamn if that didn’t change my life. Assaulted by wave after wave of sherry, with red grapes, honey and a little rich soil and wet maple leaves. I smelled it for 10 minutes. I didn’t want to bust the illusion. A little sip brought plums and the part of the apple right around the core, plus just a little bite, maybe only because I scalded my tongue a little on my afternoon tea. The finish brought a pleasantly bitter note of raw almonds that was over all too soon.

I’ve been waiting a long time to try this. Years. Literally. It did not disappoint. Thyme, herbs and nutty pepper on the nose. The palate is sweet but muted, fruity but not juicy with a very pleasant heat that cancels the only weakness of the more common lower strength version. There’s some working class muscle here that is nevertheless quietly but unabashedly in touch with its feminine side. I have just ingested and become all of humanity. Ok yes I’ve had a little too much to drink tonight but I’m trying to convey to you how relatable and satisfying this whiskey is, so please fuck off if you think my review is too ethereal. It’s an amazing goddamn whiskey ok? Goodnight

Peaty but with a sweet floral maritime breeze, the nose is a study in stark contradictions that somehow harmonize beautifully into dried apricot. The palate leaves no doubt about which distillery birthed this lovely expression, heavy smoke and iodine, sweet cherries and a great sinus rush on the nasal exhale. The cherries linger warmly and Happiness takes up long term residence in the chest and temples.

Lord. I finished it 10 minutes ago and had another dram in between and this ******** is still finishing in my mouth and all around my chest. That sounded pornographic and maybe it is. I’ve never had anything so medicinal and masculine.

Briny nose, sweet apples a little bite and a long savory finish. Really lovely

Nose: honey, not thick but runny. Like KFC’s honey sauce. Then Corn Bran cereal. Palate: sweet, lemon peel, then oak way back in the throat. As I sip longer, the oak creeps forward and dry sherry emerges. Finish: sherry takes over as oak recedes. A little lingering bite of ginger ale.

I don’t know how to do this without revealing something of a fetish. But I’m an honest man who wants to keep an accurate record of his experiences. At least in this forum where I use a fake name and no one knows me. The nose tonight was especially intriguing. A little banana. But something else. I’m taken back to a time, early in my career, when I popped into the nearby cubicle of a coworker. She was cute, but I hadn’t thought much about her. There was a very slight musty, sweaty smell. Not offensive, maybe offset by a little fabric softener. I glanced about and noticed she’d removed her shoes under her desk. Her little white socks must’ve been the source of the enticing odor. From that day on, I nursed a little crush. I don’t know why, but the olfactories sent a signal to my brain on nosing this dram that dredged up that little throwback. There’s honey and heather, a little smoke and salt. Then just grass and the warmth of the sun for a long time. Now I’m torn about whether to pour another dram or google “slightly sweaty socks”. This whisky smiles gently and urges, “Why not both?”

Talk about a cluster fuck. I cracked open a new bottle, really excited to try this whisky. As I (gently) twisted the cap, the cork promptly broke off. I tried to grab it with a corkscrew but the remainder of the cork fucked off right into this beautiful naturally caramel colored malt. Nose: cork. That’s all I smell. Palate: Fucking cork. Heavy cork. Finish: lingering regret and corky cork cork. I wrote all that before I tried it at all. I tasted it and it’s fucking amazing. I don’t know how to save this bottle. FUCK!

3.75. My go to rating for a whiskey I liked but can’t praise too much. What’s hard to believe is I think, after 5 years of going balls deep in scotch and kind of scorning a lot of other things, I’m finally trying Canadian whisky for the first time. What?? Sometimes I surprise myself with what a needless snob I’ve been. Here’s the thing. Crown Royal isn’t anyone’s definition of challenging or complex. I’ve tried to avoid the cliche (because I’m a fucking snob) word “smooth”. But goddamn if this isn’t velvety smooth. The nose is tart green apples and salted caramel. On the tongue I get the same thing- caramel apple, with just a slight bitter woody note. It tastes a little watered down. Then on medium-short finish a twist of lemon and cane sugar join the … party? Book club, maybe. The whole thing is pleasant. I’ll do this again.

There is a moment, separated by hours, not days, when your banana has too many brown spots. A few is fine, it’s not that much different than a pure yellow one. But then the spots begin to converge. And you’re like, “Dammit, what do I always buy 8 bananas and only eat 2?” So you grab one of these bananas and peel it. The first bite is pretty good. You tell yourself it’s actually not overripe. It’s halfway through the banana where you finally admit it’s creating that bitter, dry sting on the sides of your tongue. It tastes a little fermented. So you have 2 choices: throw it away or make something else out of it. You feel bad throwing it away. Here’s what I do: I drop it in the blender with ice, milk, vanilla and black toasted ground sesame seeds. And it’s delicious and I tell myself I’ve been waiting for the banana to reach this exact stage so it can be put to this exact use. I’m going to do the same thing tomorrow with the rest of my bananas. But I don’t. They go to waste and I move on to another treat.