The nose is vanilla, caramel, chocolate, oak and cherry - Bourbon Disneyland jr. (Sorry Florida.) Right away, I realize the 64.2% ABV isn't detected on the nose. I exhale through my nostrils into the glass, but there is no major stinging of the eyes from the blowback. Down the hatch: sour cherry with pepper upfront, followed by big oak and warm caramels. My palate is so blown away, I don't remember much of the finish. Second sip is orange and vanilla, with a zing of cinnamon. The mouthfeel remains viscous and oily: drying as I chew. The ABV hits me in the face this time like a bat boy trying to impress a female rookie cop. That's when I head back to the kitchen to add a couple of drops of water. The third sip is sour [again!], oak, and chocolate. Although adding water produces a bone dry finish (and render the legs runny), by the same token, it's far from useless: orange oil and some kind of dark spice - like cloves or star anise - blooms, without coming across as synthetic, or unnatural. That's unique! But the tongue is on fire. This is a fighting man's whiskey, to be sure, but the man here is not exactly fighting the burn. This is a whiskey that I won't be drinking for pleasure or self-indulgence. Drinking this is for those times when you feel like you're Jacob wrestling with God's angel - times when you're locking horns with the other f***er. It's galvanizing, without being seductive, and clarifying without being illuminating. My Rating Glossary: Two Stars: "I'd rather be drinking lite beer." Two 1/2 Stars: "Posh rubbish." Three Stars: "I love whisk(e)y. This is average love." Three 1/2 Stars: "May buy again." Four Stars: "I've got to get you into my life." Four 1/2 Stars: "Better than drugs." Five Stars: "Life is good. Whisky makes it better."