Bénédictine

Whenever Spring arrives, so does my annual bottle of Benedictine. It somehow edges out Drambuie for that "honey herbal liqueur" spot on my shelf, and will always help determine which Cognac I keep around; if it happens to play nice with Benedictine, then it gets special consideration. The nose is sweet and floral with plenty of orange blossom, and a hint of lemongrass and pine. Thick, syrupy, but surprisingly hot on the front end, with prominent honey and mint. This is accompanied by the sap-soaked needles of that pine tree, which creates an ever-so-slight edge to make it all the more interesting. While sufficiently complex, the sweetness really needs a little brandy (ideally equal parts) to get it back on track as a truly stellar drink for any season.

What can I say about it? Deep and complex, as a bitter liquor is supposed to be, but there’s nothing here to keep me coming back. It’s just not my thing, I suppose. I could drink a bottle of Angostura, and get the same result.