It was an old friend's birthday last night. The party was at a sports tavern in the Valley. Perhaps my least favorite type of establishment on the planet. But, heck, it was what he wanted so it's all cool. (And the macaroni & Cheese was garlicky and crispy and yummy). It's customary to buy an old friend a drink on his birthday and he was kind enough to ask for nothing more than a Jameson. I got him a Johnnie Blue instead. And had one for myself as well. Was there ever a whiskey as smooth and genuinely giving as Johnnie Walker Blue? I don't think so. But this isn't a review of Blue. So, how to follow up the tender and delicate smoothness of the Blue? With Knob Creek. Right? No. Recommended by another Whiskey drinker I know, this bourbon hit my palette in every wrong way possible. Harsh, angry, biting, with a taste that reminded me too much of plastic. That was the note I kept recalling. Like a balloon. Not pleasant at all. Which all goes to show that I am probably not a bourbon drinker after. More of a scotch drinker. We'll find out tonight as the guys are going to a restaurant together and I plan on having (more than one) glass of liquid life. As for the Knob. Not so much.
I had really hoped that the Jameson would stack up. After all, it has made such a great appearance in many a Car Bomb. And I do love the Irish. However, the J just left me cold. It's an uninteresting Whiskey compared to the others. Sure, it had all the notes and flavors it's supposed to but they don't gel the way the Kentucky or Tennessee Whiskeys do. It's good to have around, especially if your listening to Flogging Molly and doing up some shots with Bailey's. That's about it, though. I wouldn't go out of my way to seek it out.
Well, now, that's the stuff. Jason at Bluegrass recommended this as well and when we went shopping at Ralphs I was surprised to see it on the shelf. I was going to grab a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label but as soon as I saw the WR I decided that was what was needed. After dinner, with Dora playing incessantly in the background, I poured myself 2 fingers of The Wood (as I call it) and relaxed into the mellow molasses notes. This was smoother than the Johnny Drum by far, but richer and much more satisfying. Light years ahead of the Jameson, this is the smell of sawdust and cowboys. After striking oil in the heart of the west, this would be how I'd unwind.
When it turned out that I was a Type 2 diabetic, diagnosed 4 days away from a certain coma, it took a while but a pall finally settled around me. Gone were just about every vice I had. I couldn't smoke, obviously. Cigars lead too easily back to cigarettes. I've never been one for drugs. Just being near people who are smoking pot can give me a contact high which results in 3 days of paranoia followed by a 2 day come down of anger. Coke is crazy bad on the arteries. Coffee is great, but not at 8 O'Clock at night. And the list goes on. Even my favorite tavern delicacy, Irish Car Bombs, are replete with carbohydrates between the Guinness and the Bailey's Irish Cream. The Diabetes took away that final, best vice: sugar. I love chocolate. I adore pie. I love to bake. And most of all, I love to eat. Sweets. Yummy, delicious sweets. So, with nothing left I decided, with my wife's full support, to take up drinking. There are no carbs in the hard liquors, vodka, gin and best of all, Whiskey. Vodka tastes like rubbing alcohol and Gin all tastes of tree sap. (and wine is boring, seriously) But there is an art to Whiskey. The blending, the aging, the tradition, the regions. So, what I will be doing here with this new column is reviewing every new Whiskey I toss down my gullet, to the best of my uneducated ability. Starting with last night. While waiting for our Indian food to be ready at Yeti Restaurant in Glen Ellen (Fantastic, by the way) I decided to hang out at the Bluegrass Bar in the same Jack London Shopping Square. As I sidled (a word I imagine I will be using a lot) up to the bar I asked Jason, the 20 something bartender if they had any Scotch. I've sort of become obsessed with Johnnie Walker ever since I saw "The Man Who Walked Around The World"
and was given a snort of Johnnie Walker Blue a few weeks back. "I've recently taken up drinking, as weird as that might sound." I said. "Not weird at all. But we don't really have much of a Scotch selection. However, our Bourbons are great." So, I asked him what he would recommend as he is a Bourbon drinker. A few seconds of prodding me about my palette's desires and we came up with a choice: Johnny Drum.
"It's about ten bucks a throw, though." He cautioned. But, if I'm going to start a new hobby, I certainly am not going to scrimp. This is going to be a fun adventure, I don't want to deprive myself, besides, I won't be doing this every day (I hope).
I chose "neat" because I feared that I might take too much time nursing the glass and the ice would melt and change the entire experience into a child's version of the beverage. I'm so glad I did. The first taste was familiar, but as the liquid danced on my tongue, the spices began their assault. Not too harsh, enough to know that they were there. For some reason on the next go I decided to swirl it around in my mouth keeping my lips together with a tight seal. This time, just the deep molasses flavor and the sweet textures made their presence known with barely a hint of the heat and spice. Jason told me this was normal and it only added to the enjoyment for me of this new hobby. I did, it turned out, take about 20 minutes to finish the drink. But not for reasons I used to drink so slowly. I wanted to savor this. It was well worth the time and every penny.
At 4 in the morning I woke up with the distinct spinning of drunkenness. During the evening I also had a little australian rum, banged my head on the low ceiling and handily took on a 6 player team (against just me) in a TV Trivia showdown. But at the wee hours I started dreaming about the drink and what to call this blog entry. For a minute it was Whiskey Rebellion. But that didn't cut it. Whiskeytown is too alt-country and I really hate Wilco and their ilk-o. So, I went for a more rock and roll name. It didn't hurt that my band played there once in 2003.
So, here we go. Watch. I'll probably get cirrhosis.
