I love Japan. So precise, never lazy in anything they do. Strangely, the whiskey isn’t always great. But unlike shitty American and European whiskey, you kind of have to respect even the worst Japanese whiskey because it feels intentional. It may not be my cup of green tea, but it’s certainly what the distillery intended. With all that as background, I usually avoid Japanese whiskey, unless I’m at a Japanese restaurant, as I am this evening. I saw it on the shelf and I ordered it. It wasn’t even on the drink menu. I hope it’s not $75. But if it is, it would be worth it. A vanilla butterscotch tickles your olfactory glands like you’ve buried your nose in the trunk of a ponderosa pine. The palate is uncommonly smooth and it’s hard to tell if I’m drinking something more in the scotch or bourbon family. As burnt caramel emerges, I settle on bourbon (if it could be finished in Sherry casks). The finish could be longer, but it it’s extremely mellow. I wish I had a bottle at home. This masterpiece should be called “melatonin”.