Tastes

Angel’s Envy is an interesting bourbon. It’s finished in port wine casks. They also make a rye which I’ve had and love. But the port wine finish is their signature thing. Oh, this stuff smells good. You gotta give it some time though. I coated a glass with a few drops and smelled that. It’s a little trick I picked up somewhere. Dear God, the wood comes out right up front for me. It’s almost like smelling sawdust. Sweet sawdust. I know that’s weird but that’s what I smell. First sip. Too much to handle. Smooth and an interesting finish. But like all good whiskeys, you should smell and taste it. Then wait a bit and go back for seconds. That’s when the whiskey starts giving up its secrets. It sits on my tongue without doing much at first. Like it doesn’t need to impress up front. Very smooth and gentle. Little bit of spice maybe. And then when I swallow it, the faintest kiss of sweet wine at the end. Not really the taste of wine, actually. More like the memory of wine, if that makes any sense. Sweet sawdust in my nose. Gentle spice on my tongue. Then a little kiss at the end.

I put my nose into the glass and inhaled. Then I jerked it away. “Got damn. What the hell is this stuff?” I went back for another sniff. Then again and again and again. -Sour barley -Melted rubber -Singed nose hairs. (My own) -Telephone pole -Used World War I gauze. -Peat, certainly, yes. If someone stuffed peat into a tube sock and beat you with it. I gave up after that. Typically a whiskey will settle down after three or four smells and give up its more subtle nuances. Not this whiskey. It wasn’t giving up shit. I was dumbfounded. Stupefied. A bit freaked out, to tell you the gods’ honest truth. And I LOVE it. You gotta work to appreciate this one. Gotta pay your damn dues. But if you can get there, you have found something very special indeed.

This is a brash, complex, brawling, rawbone bourbon that just screams Texas right in your face. The label is perfect too. It’s got an ear of blue corn on it that’s so pretty you think maybe this is a gentle and delicate little whiskey. It ain’t. 130 proof. I drank mine, slapped the bar, and let out a couple of yips. Brother or sister, you want to taste this whiskey. It’s got everything you want in a bourbon. All the sweet notes, toffee and caramel and vanilla. Honestly, I can’t tell the difference between those, but they are there. Like candy. Rich too. Deep. Dark red. This is just a beautiful Texas Bourbon. And get ready to start saying “Texas Bourbon” more often. Take notice, Kentucky. We’re making your whiskey down here now and we’re doing it right.

Jesus, the smell of it. One note. Clean. Opening like medicine or perfume, then just smoothing out. Ever run your nose gently over a woman’s arm, just kind of slowly breathing in until you feel goosebumps rise on her skin? That’s the smell. Beckoning. Whispering. Try me. I was made for you. Oh it just sits on your tongue and then vibrates a little. Hold it there. It’s gentle but this is not tame whiskey. It tickles. I can’t find any particular flavor cause the feeling of it is so strong. It’s alive. It lives. And then the swallow. It gathers and slides. And God love me, the boosh at the end is amazing. It goes down with a light burn and then just before it’s disappears it sneaks back up and kisses the roof of your mouth. Then it’s gone.

Bunnahabhain. One of the finest whiskeys ever made. An outlier from the Islay region in that it is non-peated, this whiskey nonetheless contains all the complexity that wind-blow land of moors and bogs and salt marshes has to offer. Sometimes people say they pick up notes of this or that when they smell a whiskey. Then you smell it and wonder what the hell they’re talking about. Not so with Bunnahabhain. When I say you’ll smell the sea, the salt, the rocks, a little iodine, and then the most outrageously seductive hint of cherry peeking out from the back, I’m telling you the gods’ honest truth. You will smell those things. And when you taste it, you’ll know what whiskey was meant to be. So full of life and flavor on the front end that you’ll hold it on your tongue as long as possible. And then, when you swallow, such a boosh of aroma and burn and sting and joy will erupt in your throat that your eyes will involuntarily close and you’ll sit frozen on your seat in righteous contemplation. How is it possible that anyone figured out how to contain and bottle such an experience as Bunnahabhain? Surely the alchemists, who first invented distilled spirits and called it “The Water of Life” hoped that when their art finally reached its apex in some distant future, it would render a substance as fine and pure as this beautiful Scotch.

This shit is righteous. When you drink Teeling, there’s something light and stingy up front. I don’t know what is, exactly. It’s like a Lebrechaun is in your mouth trying to give birth to a Speyside Scotch. Don’t swallow it too fast though. Give it a few seconds and you’ll find something there. It put me in mind of this perfume my high school girlfriend used to wear. Made me feel like those dark nights when you’re waiting for sleep and SHE comes to your mind. And you know who she is. She is the goddess of desire that haunts your dreams. The one you wish you hadn’t turned away from. The one whose kisses turned your legs to rubber. That’s Teeling. It brings something lovely and sad to mind. Come to think of it, that’s pretty much Ireland, right? There’s no boosh at the end. But for chrissakes it’s a goddam Irish Whiskey. Whaddya want? I guess it’s got a little stingy burn when you swallow it. Kind of like a cat licking your throat. Point is, it’s nice. It’s an Irish Whiskey that’s trying to do something; be something; say something. That’s all I really ask from a whiskey anyway. Do something to me. Even a punch in the face is better than doing nothing. http://theboosh.com/whiskey/teeling-at-1919/