Last drink. I want something not too challenging, but not entitely pedestrian. The selection is light here. Perusing, perusing… Crown Royal… No. Gentleman Jack. Ha. No. There’s exactly 4 single malt scotches. Laphroaig 10. Too much. Glenfiddich 12. Not quite enough. Clynelish 14. I do love it, but of course I have an open bottle at home. Baby bear is Balvenie 12. If the selection was better, it wouldn’t even register because I can’t stop being a douchey snob. Boy am I glad the universe conspired. I think this is the best nose I’ve sniffed in years. I watched a YouTube whiskey review and the dude nosed with his mouth open. Looked like a mouth-breathing Neanderthal. But goddamn if that didn’t change my life. Assaulted by wave after wave of sherry, with red grapes, honey and a little rich soil and wet maple leaves. I smelled it for 10 minutes. I didn’t want to bust the illusion. A little sip brought plums and the part of the apple right around the core, plus just a little bite, maybe only because I scalded my tongue a little on my afternoon tea. The finish brought a pleasantly bitter note of raw almonds that was over all too soon.