The Wild Turkey Redemption. Act I When you 1st take in the scent of the Turkey, it seems unseemly, unappealing... unsavory (morally). Not unlike a pipeline that runs beneath a prison. Too much ethanol, too much spearmint; grime. When you 1st taste the Turkey, it's a criminal affair. A crime of passion but carried out in cold blood - murder. The allspice and cherry-fruit burn into the pallet like gun powder ejecting from the chamber of a pistol delivering a killshot. This rye belongs in prison. Act II "The first night's the toughest, no doubt about it. They march you in naked as the day you were born, skin burning and half blind from that delousing shit they throw on you, and when they put you in that cell, when those bars slam home, that's when you know it's for real. A whole life blown away in the blink of an eye. Nothing left but all the time in the world to think about it. Most new fish come close to madness the first night. Somebody always breaks down crying. Happens every time." - Ellis “Red” Redding, Shawshank Redemption Keep sipping - ponder, "can the Turkey be redeemed?" Sooner or later the spirit takes on a new character. The caramel notes blend in with a paprika finish. The passage of time tames the roughest edges... it grows on you. It finds redemption. Act III Not a perfect whiskey - but real and distinctive. As that flavor evens itself out, it becomes familiar. Feels like a friend. I miss the sip now. I hope to drink more. "I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.” — Ellis “Red” Redding, Shawshank Redemption