Post
by DerGolgo » Sun Feb 02, 2014 3:37 am
Once upon a time, I went on a school trip to Scotland (besides the regular family trips).
We visited a distillery, the Glenturret distillery. Where they make "Famous Grouse", a popular brand of blended stuff that's not really all that refined.
But they also make their own-brand stuff that's not entirely easy to find. Fairly hard, actually.
They gave us all a shot of the 29 year old. That was what, sixteen years ago. I can still taste it.
If that's what dirt tastes like, I should have gotten into unpaved aggression years ago.
I keep a bottle of Whisky around. I honestly only ever touch it on special occasions, the current bottle is over a year old now (not much of a drinker, really, not on my lonesome). Usually, nice and smooth and reasonably priced 12 year old Knockando, though last time I had to get a refill, I got adventurous and bought a bottle of "cheated" Glenmorangie. Aged in port barrels, rather than sherry barrels. That whole trend Bowmore started when they accidentally used a Bourbon barrel and ended up selling for three grand a shot. The only way to describe that Glenmorangie accurately is by crying, at the top of your voice, "SMOOTH!". It's not more proof than others, but the aroma alone makes it bit on the strong side for drinking straight.
Still, on those special occasions, I fix myself a rusty nail with that. No ice or any of that nonsense, just the Whisky and the Drambuie. It always makes me smile. I don't mean it tastes nice, I mean that my lips involuntarily stretch into a smile, literally.
If there were absolutely anything to be afraid of, don't you think I would have worn pants?
I said I have a big stick.