George Dickel TABASCO Brand Barrel Finish

Someone once said there’s no such thing as bad bourbon, just better bourbon. That person never had this... There’s so many things I’d choose over this again. Like income taxes or death. Forever unclean. Edit: I heavy-poured it on a tortilla chip. It was better.

I split this with friends. $4 a piece. And I’m pissed about it. I could have spent that $4 on a Chick-Fil-a sandwich. Or a nice tube of toothpaste to wash this flavor out of my mouth. The nose is reminiscent of Hot Tamales, but then the peppers make their appearance. And everything goes to hell. The whiskey brings sweetness and the Tabasco brings spiciness, and that’s a big mistake. I can’t say that I’d rather jam a toothbrush up my urethra bristle-end-first, but it’s a close call. Like, I keep asking myself how 2020 could get worse than it’s been. And then this. Whoever lost a bet and had to produce this atrocity belongs in a padded cell, at least 180 miles from anyone who may get any funny ideas about perpetuating such a blight. The technical term for what this spirit did to me is “borked in the ding ding.”

I split this five way with friends as a form of punishment, and I do indeed consider myself punished. I hate myself. I knew I would hate myself. This outlet to vent my disgust with my own existence is all I have. Why God!? It smells like straight Tabasco and despair. Yet somehow it was enticing enough for me to put this in my mouth. It did not disappoint. By that I mean the palate lived up to the nose in the sense that it also made me question why I do the things I do. It tasted like violence and fire with a touch of sweetness. I have put a lot of things in my mouth in my day, but few have left the impression that this shot straight from the anus of Satan himself has left. I am sad that there is still fluid in my glass. I fear neither my tongue nor my glencairn will ever be the same. But I must persevere. While I have lost nearly all respect for myself, I at least shall have the dignity to finish this pour so that I can look my six-month-old daughter in the eye in the morning. When she is bullied, or fails a test, or has a bad game, I will speak of this day. I will let her know that if I can survive this, she can survive that.

Do not get confused with the George Dickel name on the bottle as this is not a whiskey. On the nose it is sweet with a slight chile pepper scent hovering in the background. It is interesting enough to lure you to take a sip at which time you are overwhelmed with the sweetness. This is not to be confused with a good honey or sweet corn flavor but instead douses your palate in a pure simple syrup flavor. There is a Tabasco on the back of the palate on the tail end of the finish. I would only recommend this as a spirit best enjoyed as a shot similar to Fireball without the cinnamon.

Nope. A too sweet bourbon, with the vinegar and salt, as well as mild pepper flavor of Tabasco sauce, but not in a good way. This is not pleasant, the only “whiskey” I have ever just poured down the sink.

This is pretty gross, fourtanetly I only had a nip and that was enough, the Tabasco added a lot of heat and made it taste much more high proof than it is, but it was so sickeningly, and in my opinion artificially sweet that it kills it for me, take the regular green label and put that in Tabasco and maybe you might have something...