I know I've addressed this fine, spicy bourbon before, but I wanted to re-approach: A lot can happen in a couple of weeks, and somewhat suddenly, the absolute joy of this spirit revealed itself. Imagine a peppery Snickers, or an oily, sexy spirit that somehow takes the joy of a treasured nugget of butterscotch gifted from a favorite aunt and blends it with the fire of adulthood's more louche pleasures. Somewhere in there, you'll also find an exotic, nearly greasy joy that is distinctly reminiscent of one of those cheese-smothered grilled corn-on-the cobs you get at your favorite bbq joint. Woodford Reserve Double Oaked, which sneaks in like a handful of slightly suspicious Halloween candy but then reveals itself like the hot spark of an ember from a Christmas yule log that has leapt loose and startled the cat, has emerged as one of my favorite bourbon-for-the-sake-of-bourbon bourbons; which is to say, you treasure this, you sip it, you laugh at it with the slightly hysterical, wide-eyed grin that you've seen in the self-portrait of a doomed Viennese impressionist, it brings smiles, and an almost immediate high. And don't let the sweetness -- which approaches the near-saccharine numb-tickle of a a more sugary Rye, except for the a little, almost anise-like twist in the immediate after-taste -- fool you; this wraps its warm and hot little fingers around your brain almost immediately, so watch for low-clearance bridges.