toothpastefordinner.com
Cute, but really... iced cube? I thought they were ice cubes. I dunno, people from Ohio are fucking weird.
Showing posts with label whiskey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label whiskey. Show all posts
Monday, January 18, 2010
God's Cube
Not a video, but I suppose it kind of counts for a Monday Hangover:
toothpastefordinner.com
Cute, but really... iced cube? I thought they were ice cubes. I dunno, people from Ohio are fucking weird.
toothpastefordinner.com
Cute, but really... iced cube? I thought they were ice cubes. I dunno, people from Ohio are fucking weird.
Monday, October 19, 2009
The Right Call
And in related news, I think it's time to figure out how to widen the area the content is in.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Stag Party
Jim beam has been doing some... questionable things, lately. This has me concerned because, hands-down, my favorite whiskey is Jim Beam (white label). I've tried sweeter and stronger whiskeys, but they wear thin after awhile. In addition to white label, Beam has developed and purchased some fine liquors like Booker's, Baker's, Basil Hayden, Old Overholt, and Jim Beam Rye (yellow label). Lately, though, they've come up with (rī)1, an ultra-hip marketing plan to pick up on the re-awakening interest in rye whiskey. Richard and I haven't tried yet, but Paddy says is wholey underwhelming. But now Beam has gone a step further... in some respects. (rī)1 was completely absent of Beam branding, but their latest creation, Red Stag, comes in a standard fifth-gallon glass bottle of Beam with a different label.
It's not the packaging that's hip and cool this time, it's the marketing campagin. If you take a moment to peruse www.theredstag.com, you'll see what I mean.
Immediately you'll notice their strategy is to associate Red Stag with getting hipster tail. In the background, people in ultra-cool clothes sweat and gyrate to an unheard beat, while a cartoon deer spouts Confucius-esque wisdom on how to get laid.
The add campaign actually reminds me of old posters advertising Absinthe. Just replace the red with green, a fairy with a deer, and update the outfits and parties portrayed in the background. Really, not a bad idea. I mean, those ad campaigns worked so well at convincing folks that Absinthe was a mind-explodingly good time, the stuff was made illegal in many countries for quite some time.
But as I and Beam have said before, the stuff inside matters most. Was this "infused" whiskey some sacchariney cherry syrup? Was it a fifth of a gallon of cough medicine? Or was it a sweetish Manhattan in a bottle? One sounds like whiskey hell, one sounds somewhat tolerable.
So last night, on my way to hang out at Paddy's place, I picked up a bottle. The lady at the checkout said she'd heard good things about it. She looked like someone who has had her fair share of whiskey, and her comments bolstered my slightly sagging confidence.
Now, I've drank quite a bit of Absinthe over the years, and I never hallucinated; I never saw the legendary green fairy. But looking at www.theredstag.com, I couldn't help but wonder just a teeny bit if some cartoonish crimson deer would start babbling vaguely sexual prose-poetry at me. Cause that might be cool.
Once at Paddy's, we cracked it open immediately and poured two glasses; no ice, no mixers, just whiskey and a glass. First impressions? Not bad. I almost said "it's too sweet" with the first drop on my tongue, but then it splashed across the rest of my palate and warmed my insides as it went down. There was definitely Jim Beam in there, and I liked it. We commenced to taste the shit out of that bottle.
Whoa, hey, um... awesome. Yeah, absolutely! Grab the bull by the balls, carpe diem, it's 5 o'clock somewhere. I mean, it wasn't much of a herd, just me and Paddy, but we were drinking Red Stag and hanging out. It was cool. We actually looked up some recipes for cocktails, because we weren't sure what you could mix with it other than the usual Sprite or 7-up. theredstag.com had some suggestions that sounded tasty: Red Stag and cola, Red Manhattan, Brass Buck (Red Stag and ginger ale), but we just kept drinking it straight.
Paddy isn't really a "potential mate", he's just an old friend. And he's a dude. And that's not really my thing.
Um... yeah. Anyway, recipes the rest of the interwebs had to offer for this liquor were less than appetizing. Some website seemed to want to mix it with every liqueur and schnapps in DeKuyper's lineup. Sorry, but watermelon cherry bourbon is pushing it a bit far for us. And besides, the flavor of Red Stag is strong enough to satisfy the kind of whiskey cravings Paddy and I are prone to, but with its sweetness I think it worked best served on its own. Maybe an ice cube or two. Kind of like a pre-mixed cocktail that's 80 proof.
No, not really. Just two old friends hanging out, drinking some booze, watching TV.
... later on, Paddy's wife came home. Her impression of Red Stag was much the same as mine, a bit sweet, but the bourbon warmth evens that out. We all thought it might be a tad on the sweet side. Paddy even suggested manly-ing it up with some Beam Rye. The sharpness of the rye might compliment the sweetness of Red Stag rather nicely.
What? No! Dude, that's my friend of over twenty years and his wife. We did not get drunk off Red Stag and have a three-way. We just kind of hung out and watched TV. It was relaxing and enjoyable. Paddy made a pot roast, and it was quite yummy. We watched them make Cheetos on the Food Network.
I didn't piss on her either. Moving along, we were about halfway through the bottle when Richard Dicks stopped by. Don't say a fucking word, deersteak! That's his PEN name, not his PORN name! Anyway, by coincidence, Dicks had just been to the liquor store himself and had picked up a bottle. We left that bottle in his car, though, and continued with the bottle I had purchased. Richard's impression was, again, the same. The cherry flavoring is definitely present, but doesn't overpower the charcoal and corn flavor that really makes bourbon the fine American original that it is. Again, he felt it was maybe a tad on the sweet side.
No! Richard and I did not fuck in the bathroom! There was no fucking.. It wasn't that kind of party!
No. He most certainly was not. None of us were. We weren't dressed like underage kids sneaking into a pseudo-trendy club. We were just hanging out. Damnit, this hipster ad campaign is starting to get on my nerves. I'm beginning to feel ashamed that I like Red Stag.
But I do like it, and so did everyone else. So before the night was over, the bottle was very empty. Richard was tempted to get his bottle from his car to continue the boozing, but we all had to work the next day, so we called it a night.
No! No orgies! No one had sex. At least, not while Richard and I were there. We were just hanging out. And Red Stag was fine for that. You don't need to be going out clubbing, or having a wild sex party, or even doing some serious drinking. It's a good sipping drink when you want something strong and sweet, but not brutishly forceful or vomitously candy-like. It's a good alcohol to just chill out with.
Whatever, dude... whatever.
It's not the packaging that's hip and cool this time, it's the marketing campagin. If you take a moment to peruse www.theredstag.com, you'll see what I mean.
Immediately you'll notice their strategy is to associate Red Stag with getting hipster tail. In the background, people in ultra-cool clothes sweat and gyrate to an unheard beat, while a cartoon deer spouts Confucius-esque wisdom on how to get laid.
The add campaign actually reminds me of old posters advertising Absinthe. Just replace the red with green, a fairy with a deer, and update the outfits and parties portrayed in the background. Really, not a bad idea. I mean, those ad campaigns worked so well at convincing folks that Absinthe was a mind-explodingly good time, the stuff was made illegal in many countries for quite some time.
But as I and Beam have said before, the stuff inside matters most. Was this "infused" whiskey some sacchariney cherry syrup? Was it a fifth of a gallon of cough medicine? Or was it a sweetish Manhattan in a bottle? One sounds like whiskey hell, one sounds somewhat tolerable.
So last night, on my way to hang out at Paddy's place, I picked up a bottle. The lady at the checkout said she'd heard good things about it. She looked like someone who has had her fair share of whiskey, and her comments bolstered my slightly sagging confidence.
Now, I've drank quite a bit of Absinthe over the years, and I never hallucinated; I never saw the legendary green fairy. But looking at www.theredstag.com, I couldn't help but wonder just a teeny bit if some cartoonish crimson deer would start babbling vaguely sexual prose-poetry at me. Cause that might be cool.
Once at Paddy's, we cracked it open immediately and poured two glasses; no ice, no mixers, just whiskey and a glass. First impressions? Not bad. I almost said "it's too sweet" with the first drop on my tongue, but then it splashed across the rest of my palate and warmed my insides as it went down. There was definitely Jim Beam in there, and I liked it. We commenced to taste the shit out of that bottle.
Whoa, hey, um... awesome. Yeah, absolutely! Grab the bull by the balls, carpe diem, it's 5 o'clock somewhere. I mean, it wasn't much of a herd, just me and Paddy, but we were drinking Red Stag and hanging out. It was cool. We actually looked up some recipes for cocktails, because we weren't sure what you could mix with it other than the usual Sprite or 7-up. theredstag.com had some suggestions that sounded tasty: Red Stag and cola, Red Manhattan, Brass Buck (Red Stag and ginger ale), but we just kept drinking it straight.
Paddy isn't really a "potential mate", he's just an old friend. And he's a dude. And that's not really my thing.
Um... yeah. Anyway, recipes the rest of the interwebs had to offer for this liquor were less than appetizing. Some website seemed to want to mix it with every liqueur and schnapps in DeKuyper's lineup. Sorry, but watermelon cherry bourbon is pushing it a bit far for us. And besides, the flavor of Red Stag is strong enough to satisfy the kind of whiskey cravings Paddy and I are prone to, but with its sweetness I think it worked best served on its own. Maybe an ice cube or two. Kind of like a pre-mixed cocktail that's 80 proof.
No, not really. Just two old friends hanging out, drinking some booze, watching TV.
... later on, Paddy's wife came home. Her impression of Red Stag was much the same as mine, a bit sweet, but the bourbon warmth evens that out. We all thought it might be a tad on the sweet side. Paddy even suggested manly-ing it up with some Beam Rye. The sharpness of the rye might compliment the sweetness of Red Stag rather nicely.
What? No! Dude, that's my friend of over twenty years and his wife. We did not get drunk off Red Stag and have a three-way. We just kind of hung out and watched TV. It was relaxing and enjoyable. Paddy made a pot roast, and it was quite yummy. We watched them make Cheetos on the Food Network.
I didn't piss on her either. Moving along, we were about halfway through the bottle when Richard Dicks stopped by. Don't say a fucking word, deersteak! That's his PEN name, not his PORN name! Anyway, by coincidence, Dicks had just been to the liquor store himself and had picked up a bottle. We left that bottle in his car, though, and continued with the bottle I had purchased. Richard's impression was, again, the same. The cherry flavoring is definitely present, but doesn't overpower the charcoal and corn flavor that really makes bourbon the fine American original that it is. Again, he felt it was maybe a tad on the sweet side.
No! Richard and I did not fuck in the bathroom! There was no fucking.. It wasn't that kind of party!
No. He most certainly was not. None of us were. We weren't dressed like underage kids sneaking into a pseudo-trendy club. We were just hanging out. Damnit, this hipster ad campaign is starting to get on my nerves. I'm beginning to feel ashamed that I like Red Stag.
But I do like it, and so did everyone else. So before the night was over, the bottle was very empty. Richard was tempted to get his bottle from his car to continue the boozing, but we all had to work the next day, so we called it a night.
No! No orgies! No one had sex. At least, not while Richard and I were there. We were just hanging out. And Red Stag was fine for that. You don't need to be going out clubbing, or having a wild sex party, or even doing some serious drinking. It's a good sipping drink when you want something strong and sweet, but not brutishly forceful or vomitously candy-like. It's a good alcohol to just chill out with.
Whatever, dude... whatever.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Bourbon Heritage Month
It's been a little while since I last posted something to the site. It's not that I ran out of ideas, or that I'm tired of blogging, or I'm overworks. I'm always tire and overworked. OK, maybe I have been a little preoccupied, but for a good reason. I haven't posted in a while because I haven't been sober enough.
For the past few weeks I've been celebrating...hard. What have I been celebrating? Well, National Bourbon Heritage Month of course.
Since 2007, the month of September has been officially recognized as National Bourbon Heritage Month by the United States. Apparently even the US government squeezes out a nugget of genius every 40 years or so (repeal of prohibition, legalization of homebrew, Bourbon Heritage Month).
If you're one of the two readers out there that already know about this month, that's awesome...cheers! We here at JABB, well, we like to celebrate bourbon all 12 months out of the year. Now, if your asking yourself "Why is the government passing bills like this? Don't they have better things to do?", you obviously have stumbled upon the wrong site. You must be in the wrong place or were looking for justanotherboobsblog.
Sorry, I don't have that site up and running yet. Anyways, this month is important because back in 1964 Congress recognized bourbon as "America's Native Spirit", and God damn it, we should have a month to celebrate it.
I'm not going to get into all the history of bourbon and it's origins (***cough*** Pennsylvania). There is more than enough info out there on that subject. Just check Wikipedia and the rest of the interweb. In celebration of what I love, I'm just going to sit here in front of my computer and drink. Yes, I know it's the morning, and I'm at work. There's a reason why God made ginger ale the color it is. I've got a couple of bottles of various bourbons that are on there last legs, so I figured I'd just finish them off.
In keeping this short, so as not to cut into valuable drinking time, bourbon kicks ass. It spans all walks of life. From the inbred hillbilly to the affluent aristocrat, bourbon yields a kinship that breaks down societal walls (kind of like mullets).
Two people who can't agree on which is a better car, a Bentley or an IROC, can at least sit down with a glass and agree that "that is some damn fine bourbon."
So back to the bottle I go. Don't expect much more out of me for the rest of the month. See you in October.
For the past few weeks I've been celebrating...hard. What have I been celebrating? Well, National Bourbon Heritage Month of course.
Since 2007, the month of September has been officially recognized as National Bourbon Heritage Month by the United States. Apparently even the US government squeezes out a nugget of genius every 40 years or so (repeal of prohibition, legalization of homebrew, Bourbon Heritage Month).If you're one of the two readers out there that already know about this month, that's awesome...cheers! We here at JABB, well, we like to celebrate bourbon all 12 months out of the year. Now, if your asking yourself "Why is the government passing bills like this? Don't they have better things to do?", you obviously have stumbled upon the wrong site. You must be in the wrong place or were looking for justanotherboobsblog.
Sorry, I don't have that site up and running yet. Anyways, this month is important because back in 1964 Congress recognized bourbon as "America's Native Spirit", and God damn it, we should have a month to celebrate it.I'm not going to get into all the history of bourbon and it's origins (***cough*** Pennsylvania). There is more than enough info out there on that subject. Just check Wikipedia and the rest of the interweb. In celebration of what I love, I'm just going to sit here in front of my computer and drink. Yes, I know it's the morning, and I'm at work. There's a reason why God made ginger ale the color it is. I've got a couple of bottles of various bourbons that are on there last legs, so I figured I'd just finish them off.
In keeping this short, so as not to cut into valuable drinking time, bourbon kicks ass. It spans all walks of life. From the inbred hillbilly to the affluent aristocrat, bourbon yields a kinship that breaks down societal walls (kind of like mullets).
Two people who can't agree on which is a better car, a Bentley or an IROC, can at least sit down with a glass and agree that "that is some damn fine bourbon."
So back to the bottle I go. Don't expect much more out of me for the rest of the month. See you in October.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Beer... or something...
Wow, so, uh... no one's blogged in awhile. So, um.... beer. I had a beer last night. It was called... um... shit, I took a picture of it...
There. Negra Mode... um... Model... Modern... Modem... Negra Modelo! That's it! Google saves the day again. So yeah, I had one of those. I'm struggling to remember what exactly it tasted like, here, but not because it was bad. On the contrary, I thought it was quite tasty! But I wasn't paying enough attention to really remember the finer details. Let me back up a bit and explain why.
This was a going-away-happy-hour for someone leaving where I work. He's a pretty well-liked guy, so quite a few people wanted to show up. Instead of hitting the usual places for such affairs, they picked some fancy place no one had been to before. Now, I had a going-away-party thrown for me once at a fancy place no one had been to before, and it's a real crapshoot. It turned out moderately ok for my party, but the location was quite a haul for most folks interested in attending.
But this place we went last night was close. A really classy joint, too. A patio out front, downstairs restaurant area, upstairs bar area, and even an upper deck with a gorgeous view of the river and downtown Pittsburgh. The back bar was small, but stocked with unusual things and backed with wavy sheets of copper. They had the usual stuff, but I also saw things like Bluecoat Gin, and Root, which Richard has mentioned before. The help, as is almost always the case, is what really made it nice. I ordered two shots of Wild Turkey 101 for myself and the departing coworker, and after some walking around and running downstairs, the bartender said "Sorry, we're out. Well, actually, we had two shots left, but there were some floaters in it." I paused for a moment, then said "Thankyou for that. A lot of bartenders would have fished them out and served me the booze anyway."
And that's the truth. Don't believe me? Ever been to a bar or a restaraunt where there's fruit flies buzzing around? Where do you think they make their homes and lay their eggs? Uh-huh. I'd stay away from the 99 Bananas.
So I ordered two shots of Jim and a 7&7. Not to sound like a skinflint, but it came to $17.50 and I was a bit shocked. It wasn't like I ordered Woodford Reserve, it was Jim Beam and Segram's 7. That's like $1.75 worth of booze in those three glasses. I didn't raise hell or anything, and I tipped well because he didn't garnish them with fly larvae, but still... it was a little on the steep side for a Pittsburgh bar; even a fancy one. And the departing coworker couldn't even finish the shot in one go. He stumbled around a bit and tried not to cough it up. Which happens sometimes...
He eventually gulped down the last of his whiskey under heavy female derision, and I mentioned to another coworker that the two shots and a drink cost me $17.50 plus tip. He then told me his beer was $2 plus tip.
So I switched to beer for the night.
Since I hadn't heard of the beer my coworker was having, I decided to give it a try. He was drinking, of course, Negra Modelo. They gave it to me with a wedge of lime in the mouth of the bottle, and a fancy snifter to pour it into. I discarded the lime and poured it into the glass; I wanted to know what this tasted like without any alteration. It was dark in color but thin in body, so it went down smooth for something with full flavor. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and had another.
Someone asked me what I was drinking and I told them. They asked if it was like Yuengling. I paused, as the question came as a complete surprise to me. I mean, I do like Yuengling a lot, and since it's from PA I try to drink it more often than I would otherwise. But I hadn't thought to compare Negra Modelo to Yuengling. I guess, compared to Yuengling, it was darker and slightly smokier, but just as smooth and thin in body and texture. The head was made of slightly smaller bubbles, making it a bit foamier, but the overall experience was... no, it wasn't really anything like Yuengling. She explained that Yuengling is her benchmark. In her mind, all beers are are either good or bad depending entirely on how similar they are to Yuengling.
At first it seemed like an odd way to judge things, but as I thought about it, it made more and more sense. If you find anything you really like, it's logical to use it as your bench mark. It saves you from having to analyze the details of things; you can just compare your gut reaction to something you know you like. Sure, it seems a bit narrow-minded in some respects; it doesn't really allow for trying new things. But what if you want something, but don't want to be an expert in that particular field?
Here's a for-instance: I'm not really a cigar smoker. I smoke maybe 3 or 4 per year. I don't know how you describe the flavor of a cigar beyond "strong" or "mild" (and those probably aren't even the proper terms). If I walk into a cigar shop and I want to have a cigar, do I really want to first read a 1000 page book on cigars? Do I want to take a class first? Let me answer that for you: no. This isn't a life-long passion, I don't want to explore the broad and complex world of rolled tobacco, I just want one cigar. So I place my trust in the proprietor and say "I had an Onyx cigar once and I really liked it. Could you help me pick out something similar that I might like?"
So I suppose walking into a bar and saying "I like Yuengling, but I see you don't have any. What could you recommend?" is perfectly valid. And if the bartender scoffs at you and says you should try a Huisbrouwerij Sint Canarus Potteloerke, then he's a stuck-up asshole. If he's interested in making money, he should find you something similar to Yuengling. And if he wants to help bring you into his hobby of beer, acting snooty and giving you something completely unlike Yuengling isn't the way. This is how comic book shops go out of business.
I encouraged her to try what I was drinking, but she was having none of it. My reaction to her question seemed to reveal that it did not pass her Yuengling test. However, I think she might have liked the Negra Modelo; it was smooth and went down easy, but had much more flavor than my much-touted favorite Miller High Life. Not too hoppy, but possibly too dark for her. Not really chocolaty, but kind of smokey.
Many people saw my coworker and I drinking Negra Modelo and I think by the end of the night most folks had at least one. The bartender had to run downstairs and get more. Everyone seemed to agree that it was good stuff. Yuengling it wasn't, but it was good and I'll probably get another some day. Ultimately, my Yuengling-loving coworker didn't try one. She drank Yuenglin pints all night. But I won't bug her to try it again because yinzer chicks will kick your ass!
There. Negra Mode... um... Model... Modern... Modem... Negra Modelo! That's it! Google saves the day again. So yeah, I had one of those. I'm struggling to remember what exactly it tasted like, here, but not because it was bad. On the contrary, I thought it was quite tasty! But I wasn't paying enough attention to really remember the finer details. Let me back up a bit and explain why.
This was a going-away-happy-hour for someone leaving where I work. He's a pretty well-liked guy, so quite a few people wanted to show up. Instead of hitting the usual places for such affairs, they picked some fancy place no one had been to before. Now, I had a going-away-party thrown for me once at a fancy place no one had been to before, and it's a real crapshoot. It turned out moderately ok for my party, but the location was quite a haul for most folks interested in attending.
But this place we went last night was close. A really classy joint, too. A patio out front, downstairs restaurant area, upstairs bar area, and even an upper deck with a gorgeous view of the river and downtown Pittsburgh. The back bar was small, but stocked with unusual things and backed with wavy sheets of copper. They had the usual stuff, but I also saw things like Bluecoat Gin, and Root, which Richard has mentioned before. The help, as is almost always the case, is what really made it nice. I ordered two shots of Wild Turkey 101 for myself and the departing coworker, and after some walking around and running downstairs, the bartender said "Sorry, we're out. Well, actually, we had two shots left, but there were some floaters in it." I paused for a moment, then said "Thankyou for that. A lot of bartenders would have fished them out and served me the booze anyway."
And that's the truth. Don't believe me? Ever been to a bar or a restaraunt where there's fruit flies buzzing around? Where do you think they make their homes and lay their eggs? Uh-huh. I'd stay away from the 99 Bananas.
... and in fact the women we work with stood around and mocked him for not being able to handle a shot of Beam. Hey, it's Pittsburgh. We grow 'em tough here!
He eventually gulped down the last of his whiskey under heavy female derision, and I mentioned to another coworker that the two shots and a drink cost me $17.50 plus tip. He then told me his beer was $2 plus tip.
So I switched to beer for the night.
Since I hadn't heard of the beer my coworker was having, I decided to give it a try. He was drinking, of course, Negra Modelo. They gave it to me with a wedge of lime in the mouth of the bottle, and a fancy snifter to pour it into. I discarded the lime and poured it into the glass; I wanted to know what this tasted like without any alteration. It was dark in color but thin in body, so it went down smooth for something with full flavor. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and had another.
Someone asked me what I was drinking and I told them. They asked if it was like Yuengling. I paused, as the question came as a complete surprise to me. I mean, I do like Yuengling a lot, and since it's from PA I try to drink it more often than I would otherwise. But I hadn't thought to compare Negra Modelo to Yuengling. I guess, compared to Yuengling, it was darker and slightly smokier, but just as smooth and thin in body and texture. The head was made of slightly smaller bubbles, making it a bit foamier, but the overall experience was... no, it wasn't really anything like Yuengling. She explained that Yuengling is her benchmark. In her mind, all beers are are either good or bad depending entirely on how similar they are to Yuengling.
At first it seemed like an odd way to judge things, but as I thought about it, it made more and more sense. If you find anything you really like, it's logical to use it as your bench mark. It saves you from having to analyze the details of things; you can just compare your gut reaction to something you know you like. Sure, it seems a bit narrow-minded in some respects; it doesn't really allow for trying new things. But what if you want something, but don't want to be an expert in that particular field?
Here's a for-instance: I'm not really a cigar smoker. I smoke maybe 3 or 4 per year. I don't know how you describe the flavor of a cigar beyond "strong" or "mild" (and those probably aren't even the proper terms). If I walk into a cigar shop and I want to have a cigar, do I really want to first read a 1000 page book on cigars? Do I want to take a class first? Let me answer that for you: no. This isn't a life-long passion, I don't want to explore the broad and complex world of rolled tobacco, I just want one cigar. So I place my trust in the proprietor and say "I had an Onyx cigar once and I really liked it. Could you help me pick out something similar that I might like?"
So I suppose walking into a bar and saying "I like Yuengling, but I see you don't have any. What could you recommend?" is perfectly valid. And if the bartender scoffs at you and says you should try a Huisbrouwerij Sint Canarus Potteloerke, then he's a stuck-up asshole. If he's interested in making money, he should find you something similar to Yuengling. And if he wants to help bring you into his hobby of beer, acting snooty and giving you something completely unlike Yuengling isn't the way. This is how comic book shops go out of business.
I encouraged her to try what I was drinking, but she was having none of it. My reaction to her question seemed to reveal that it did not pass her Yuengling test. However, I think she might have liked the Negra Modelo; it was smooth and went down easy, but had much more flavor than my much-touted favorite Miller High Life. Not too hoppy, but possibly too dark for her. Not really chocolaty, but kind of smokey.
Many people saw my coworker and I drinking Negra Modelo and I think by the end of the night most folks had at least one. The bartender had to run downstairs and get more. Everyone seemed to agree that it was good stuff. Yuengling it wasn't, but it was good and I'll probably get another some day. Ultimately, my Yuengling-loving coworker didn't try one. She drank Yuenglin pints all night. But I won't bug her to try it again because yinzer chicks will kick your ass!
Friday, July 10, 2009
5 Worst Liquors To Put On Your Penis
As only an alcoholic would, or maybe a Catholic Priest, I accepted the challenge laid before me and present you with this little nugget I pulled from my brain, which means it's of lower quality than the lint I pulled from my belly button the other day. The great loosener of one's lips and women's inhibitions, alcohol makes people do some pretty weird (stupid) things at times. And I mean weird. Not the typical, you got drunk and tried to mount your grandma's vacuum cleaner during last year's family reunion, and then propose a threesome when your great aunt Beth catches you. Or was that aunt Ruth...
Or maybe chugging citronella, because you're too wasted to realize that it's not your long island, and subsequently throwing chunks all over your friends new baby when you couldn't hold it down. No, we've all done THAT sort of stuff. I mean really weird.
The combining of perishable food items with sex is a Dionysian pursuit of which I have never fully grasped. I mean I get it. I understand the eroticism and carnal pleasure that which is enjoyed in engaging in such á la carte activities. I just don't dig it. All I can think about is how sticky things are gonna get afterward, am I going to have to wash the sheets, or is my boss going to notice the marshmallow cream and jujubes stuck in my hair the next morning. I suppose I would take the same stance when it comes to alcohol. I love alcohol. But do I really want to drink tequila from between some woman's toes as she pours it down her leg ...moment to think about it... No. I know it sounds like fun at first. That's until you get a piece of sock fuzz and toe jam stuck between your teeth and wonder why you have a sudden craving for Dr. Scholls. After you've taken a moment to clear that image out of your head, I give you the 5 worst liquors to put on your penis.
#5. Tequila
As I mentioned it above, tequila has to be one of the more popular topical inebriators. It never fails. It's the shirt lifting, bead hoarding co-ed's drink of choice. Where tequila flows stupid things are bound to follow. First and foremost as to why I'd prefer eating mystery dumpster yogurt to putting tequila on my body is that it burns. I'm also pretty sure the salt and lime wedge can't be all that pleasant either. It does, however, give a whole new meaning to the term "eating the worm." (yes, I know it's mezcal that has the worm. Work with me here.) The point I'm trying to get at is that tequila has no place on a guy's penis. On a woman's body, however, is a completely different story.
#4. Jägermeister
Jäger definitely has a history of manliness to it. I mean, the literal translation is "hunt-master."
There's even a German poem about it, calling it a sign of honor, a badge of glory. Who wouldn't want to put it on their schlong. I wouldn't. It's stickier than the floor of an adult theater. It's the anti-lube. It serves no practical purpose in the bedroom from what I can tell, except to make your genitals smell like licorice. It's all the rage these days. I hear Axe is coming out with a new anisette scent next month. It's also cold (if served properly), which means your little storm trooper is likely to turn into a little Schildkröte, and nobody wants that.
#3. Whiskey
Bourbon, Scotch, Irish, Canadian, Rye it doesn't matter which one you speak of, they are all grouped together in on big "I don't belong on your skin" category. It burns. It fuck'n burns (worse than the stray shot in the eye, I hear). Is there really anything more that needs to be said. I put it on my forearm for 30 seconds and I have a red rash that stays with me all night. Do you really want that "down there?" Do you think you're gonna drop your pants and women are gonna say, "gimme some of that" after they see what it's done? No, they're going to turn tail and run like you have the bubonic plague in your pants.
When I go into a bar and order a double Wild Turkey, it turns a few heads. When I ask for it in a wider glass so that I can dip my balls in it, it usually ends with a black eye and a nice quiet evening alone at the police station for indecent exposure. Oh, did I forget to mention, and a sore throbbing dick. Just don't do it.
#2. Goldschläger
This one ranks above both whiskey and Jäger in that it not only burns, but is sticky as well. That's just great. It's basically like on oil fire on your crotch. It burns like a motherfucker and pouring water on it only helps it to spread. At least Jägermeister is like an herbal salve. It's the holistic approach for the hippy alcoholics interested in spicing up their love life.
I know that most women love gold, but those little flakes stuck to your penis are more likely to make her think you have some horrible rare STD than put a sparkle in her eye. I don't use cinnamon toothpaste anymore because it burns too much, why would I want it on my dick.
#1. Everclear
If you haven't notice a recurring theme amongst the runners-up I'll state it again. Alcohol Burns. Things that burn do not belong on your crotch. I mean, I like to use Gold Bond down there. The mentholated tingle is kind of refreshing, and powdering up keeps me dry and fresh all day, but that's pretty much where I draw the line. Therefore at 95% alcohol-by-volume, the hands down winner has to be Everclear.
It's over twice as potent that most of your whiskeys, and it'll strip paint off the walls. If you happen to have a bad case of crabs, perhaps Everclear is just what you need, but what do I know. I'm not a doctor.
For the rest of you people out there, just try to heed my warning the next time you get drunk and things start to get a little kinky. Just because it tastes good, it isn't worth a trip to the ER. Try explaining that one to the duty nurse.
Or maybe chugging citronella, because you're too wasted to realize that it's not your long island, and subsequently throwing chunks all over your friends new baby when you couldn't hold it down. No, we've all done THAT sort of stuff. I mean really weird.The combining of perishable food items with sex is a Dionysian pursuit of which I have never fully grasped. I mean I get it. I understand the eroticism and carnal pleasure that which is enjoyed in engaging in such á la carte activities. I just don't dig it. All I can think about is how sticky things are gonna get afterward, am I going to have to wash the sheets, or is my boss going to notice the marshmallow cream and jujubes stuck in my hair the next morning. I suppose I would take the same stance when it comes to alcohol. I love alcohol. But do I really want to drink tequila from between some woman's toes as she pours it down her leg ...moment to think about it... No. I know it sounds like fun at first. That's until you get a piece of sock fuzz and toe jam stuck between your teeth and wonder why you have a sudden craving for Dr. Scholls. After you've taken a moment to clear that image out of your head, I give you the 5 worst liquors to put on your penis.
#5. Tequila
As I mentioned it above, tequila has to be one of the more popular topical inebriators. It never fails. It's the shirt lifting, bead hoarding co-ed's drink of choice. Where tequila flows stupid things are bound to follow. First and foremost as to why I'd prefer eating mystery dumpster yogurt to putting tequila on my body is that it burns. I'm also pretty sure the salt and lime wedge can't be all that pleasant either. It does, however, give a whole new meaning to the term "eating the worm." (yes, I know it's mezcal that has the worm. Work with me here.) The point I'm trying to get at is that tequila has no place on a guy's penis. On a woman's body, however, is a completely different story.
#4. Jägermeister
Jäger definitely has a history of manliness to it. I mean, the literal translation is "hunt-master."
There's even a German poem about it, calling it a sign of honor, a badge of glory. Who wouldn't want to put it on their schlong. I wouldn't. It's stickier than the floor of an adult theater. It's the anti-lube. It serves no practical purpose in the bedroom from what I can tell, except to make your genitals smell like licorice. It's all the rage these days. I hear Axe is coming out with a new anisette scent next month. It's also cold (if served properly), which means your little storm trooper is likely to turn into a little Schildkröte, and nobody wants that.#3. Whiskey
Bourbon, Scotch, Irish, Canadian, Rye it doesn't matter which one you speak of, they are all grouped together in on big "I don't belong on your skin" category. It burns. It fuck'n burns (worse than the stray shot in the eye, I hear). Is there really anything more that needs to be said. I put it on my forearm for 30 seconds and I have a red rash that stays with me all night. Do you really want that "down there?" Do you think you're gonna drop your pants and women are gonna say, "gimme some of that" after they see what it's done? No, they're going to turn tail and run like you have the bubonic plague in your pants.When I go into a bar and order a double Wild Turkey, it turns a few heads. When I ask for it in a wider glass so that I can dip my balls in it, it usually ends with a black eye and a nice quiet evening alone at the police station for indecent exposure. Oh, did I forget to mention, and a sore throbbing dick. Just don't do it.
#2. Goldschläger
This one ranks above both whiskey and Jäger in that it not only burns, but is sticky as well. That's just great. It's basically like on oil fire on your crotch. It burns like a motherfucker and pouring water on it only helps it to spread. At least Jägermeister is like an herbal salve. It's the holistic approach for the hippy alcoholics interested in spicing up their love life.
I know that most women love gold, but those little flakes stuck to your penis are more likely to make her think you have some horrible rare STD than put a sparkle in her eye. I don't use cinnamon toothpaste anymore because it burns too much, why would I want it on my dick.#1. Everclear
If you haven't notice a recurring theme amongst the runners-up I'll state it again. Alcohol Burns. Things that burn do not belong on your crotch. I mean, I like to use Gold Bond down there. The mentholated tingle is kind of refreshing, and powdering up keeps me dry and fresh all day, but that's pretty much where I draw the line. Therefore at 95% alcohol-by-volume, the hands down winner has to be Everclear.
It's over twice as potent that most of your whiskeys, and it'll strip paint off the walls. If you happen to have a bad case of crabs, perhaps Everclear is just what you need, but what do I know. I'm not a doctor.
For the rest of you people out there, just try to heed my warning the next time you get drunk and things start to get a little kinky. Just because it tastes good, it isn't worth a trip to the ER. Try explaining that one to the duty nurse.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
MOVING: Johnny Walker
Well, this is a shame. Johnny Walker is packing up shop and moving elsewhere from its original home in Kilmarnock, where the original John Walker sold whiskey distilled in his store. After 150 years, this distillery will close down. They have 27 distilleries, but want to combine to a single one (or few, it is unclear) to create a more homogenous product and because shipping seems to be so cheap. It is a shame and a copying of the worst beer tacticts, which we've railed against before. Despite our love of liquor, a lot of people choose based on ideology, history or other non-taste issues. It is about time these companies learned that.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Ultra-Premium Rye, an Oxymoron?
A couple of weeks ago I was in the liquor store, when I by chance came a cross a bottle of (ri)1 (pronounced rye one) Ultra-Premium Rye Whiskey. The very first thing I said to myself was "oh God, no." I don't know why. I love rye whiskey. In fact, the other thing that popped in my head was "you bastards stole our idea." You see, my friends and I have always though that starting our own Pennsylvania Rye distillery would be a kick-ass idea. And nobody makes a Pennsylvania rye anymore (the secrets out, damnit!).
I Guess seeing this new whiskey on the shelf bothered me for two reasons. One, I don't care for the phrase "ultra-premium" attached to anything I drink. I usually find the product to be of slightly above average quality, and highly above average in price. It's a buzz word that has no meaning, unless you've got the balls to back it up. I've seen many ultra-premium liquors fall short of their namesake. Second, I just don't see the words "ultra-premium" and "rye" going together. They just don't fit with my image of what rye is supposed to be.
Let's first skip past Canadian whiskey, which is often called rye whiskey for some reason, but usually has no rye in it at all. When it does, it usually accounts for a small amount of the blend. Rye whiskey came out of the foothills of the Appalachians in rural Western Pennsylvania. It was the drink of the common man when rum fell from grace after the American Revolution. Rye was the only distilled spirit that was born 100% from American sweat and labor. Rum relied heavily on molasses imports from the West Indies, and gin usually was made with spices from around the globe. Both were also distilled primarily in the urban coastal cities. Rye on the other had was a hard drink, made by hard men, who just wanted to supplement their income with their excess grain. It was harsh and peppery. A bold drink. America's fire water.
Rye was the only real whiskey anybody drank prior to prohibition. Bourbon? Barely anybody touched the stuff. It existed, but wasn't really popular until after prohibition. When you watch an old western on TV and somebody orders whiskey, they were ordering rye. Rye has this grittiness to it, this classic mystique of the old days, the harder days. Rye is dirty. Rye burns the throat, and hard men drink it. There is nothing ultra-premium about rye.
I looked at the elegantly tapered bottle on the shelf before me. I take note of its clean simple label. This wasn't rye that I was looking it. In my eyes, it was a gimmick. What right did it have to come out of nowhere, and just declare itself champion over all other ryes, without being tested in the fires.
It wasn't until just recently that I discovered that (ri)1 is actually made by Jim Beam. I suppose that offers some merit to it. I definitely will have to try it. But is it really worth $50 a bottle. This shit is expensive. Being a lover of rye whiskey, I am definitely taking a biased stance on this one. I love Jim Beam, and I hope that this whiskey is spectacular, but their marketing campaign and image for this one just doesn't sit right with me. I don't think it ever will. Rye doesn't belong in a fancy bottle with all the top shelf booze. It belongs buried in the back, and when the bartender takes it out to serve a lone, grizzled, old man, sitting in a dark corner of the bar, fingerprints can be seen in the dust that has collected on the bottle.
I Guess seeing this new whiskey on the shelf bothered me for two reasons. One, I don't care for the phrase "ultra-premium" attached to anything I drink. I usually find the product to be of slightly above average quality, and highly above average in price. It's a buzz word that has no meaning, unless you've got the balls to back it up. I've seen many ultra-premium liquors fall short of their namesake. Second, I just don't see the words "ultra-premium" and "rye" going together. They just don't fit with my image of what rye is supposed to be.Let's first skip past Canadian whiskey, which is often called rye whiskey for some reason, but usually has no rye in it at all. When it does, it usually accounts for a small amount of the blend. Rye whiskey came out of the foothills of the Appalachians in rural Western Pennsylvania. It was the drink of the common man when rum fell from grace after the American Revolution. Rye was the only distilled spirit that was born 100% from American sweat and labor. Rum relied heavily on molasses imports from the West Indies, and gin usually was made with spices from around the globe. Both were also distilled primarily in the urban coastal cities. Rye on the other had was a hard drink, made by hard men, who just wanted to supplement their income with their excess grain. It was harsh and peppery. A bold drink. America's fire water.
Rye was the only real whiskey anybody drank prior to prohibition. Bourbon? Barely anybody touched the stuff. It existed, but wasn't really popular until after prohibition. When you watch an old western on TV and somebody orders whiskey, they were ordering rye. Rye has this grittiness to it, this classic mystique of the old days, the harder days. Rye is dirty. Rye burns the throat, and hard men drink it. There is nothing ultra-premium about rye.
I looked at the elegantly tapered bottle on the shelf before me. I take note of its clean simple label. This wasn't rye that I was looking it. In my eyes, it was a gimmick. What right did it have to come out of nowhere, and just declare itself champion over all other ryes, without being tested in the fires.
It wasn't until just recently that I discovered that (ri)1 is actually made by Jim Beam. I suppose that offers some merit to it. I definitely will have to try it. But is it really worth $50 a bottle. This shit is expensive. Being a lover of rye whiskey, I am definitely taking a biased stance on this one. I love Jim Beam, and I hope that this whiskey is spectacular, but their marketing campaign and image for this one just doesn't sit right with me. I don't think it ever will. Rye doesn't belong in a fancy bottle with all the top shelf booze. It belongs buried in the back, and when the bartender takes it out to serve a lone, grizzled, old man, sitting in a dark corner of the bar, fingerprints can be seen in the dust that has collected on the bottle.Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Spring Training Results
B. James and I found some time this past week and took to the grueling task of having to sample and critique the booze obtained from Spring Training. It was a hard job, but we were up to the task.
Pusser's British Navy Rum is the real deal. When I think of rum of old, and how it must have tasted, this is the stuff I envision. I truly believe that this rum stays true to it's 350 year old recipe. Pusser's grabs you by the collar, throws you against the wall and says "I'm rum, god damn it!" This rum is very bold and flavorful. The blending of various different rums has given it quite a distinct taste, and I like it. It's potent, but not harsh, at a very respectable 84 proof. If I was a sailor and needed something to keep me going through those long hard months at sea, I could see how this stuff would do the trick.
Moving off the subject of sea men, for some reason my face hurts. Why? Because I've just been smacked across it by a hard ruthless cock. Fighting Cock Kentucky Straight Bourbon pulls no punches. It tasks like Wild Turkey, but is even a little more peppery. At 103 proof, the Cock burns going down your throat, from the first sip to the last sip. It takes a strong man to take the Cock more that a few times in one night, lest you begin to gag.
Ron Diaz Gran Reserve Spiced Rum is very close to what I expected. It's Captain Morgan light, with a much more palatable texture to suit the college crowd. On the very first sip, the only word that came to mind was "silky." This rum caresses your tongue. It has a pleasant aroma and a sweet taste (perhaps too sweet) with vanilla notes. The smoothness of Ron Diaz gives it a week start, but it has a warm finish. This rum pushes it's worth at $14 a bottle, but I think I'll stick with my Captain Morgan. It's the same price, and the Ron Diaz is just too sweet for my taste. Not to come off as high and mighty with my refined pallet, but this rum has one purpose only, and that is to get the college girls shit faced. * editor's note from B James: should "shit faced" be "naked"? *
Wiser's Very Old 18 Year Blended Canadian Whisky (they need to pick a shorter name) was exactly as I had hoped. It is a real nice, smooth, mellow, aged whisky. It goes down smooth, but still is alcohol through and through. There seems to be a ruminess to it, if that's a word. It has a very light rum flavor or we'll say rum essence (not to be confused with sweetness). It is possible that they may age the stuff in old rum casks. There really isn't much more that needs to be said about Wiser's 18 except that it's damn fine whisky.
If I had to pick one bottle out of the four that I am truly glad I bought, it would have to be the Pusser's. Wiser's would come in a close second, but it just didn't have quite the affect on me as the rum. I sipped it and thought "hmm, that is a damn fine whiskey." But the Pusser's was "wow! I wasn't ready for that, but I like it." It's unique bold taste stands out from any other rum I've ever tried, and the history behind the rum just add to its mystique.
Pusser's British Navy Rum is the real deal. When I think of rum of old, and how it must have tasted, this is the stuff I envision. I truly believe that this rum stays true to it's 350 year old recipe. Pusser's grabs you by the collar, throws you against the wall and says "I'm rum, god damn it!" This rum is very bold and flavorful. The blending of various different rums has given it quite a distinct taste, and I like it. It's potent, but not harsh, at a very respectable 84 proof. If I was a sailor and needed something to keep me going through those long hard months at sea, I could see how this stuff would do the trick.
Moving off the subject of sea men, for some reason my face hurts. Why? Because I've just been smacked across it by a hard ruthless cock. Fighting Cock Kentucky Straight Bourbon pulls no punches. It tasks like Wild Turkey, but is even a little more peppery. At 103 proof, the Cock burns going down your throat, from the first sip to the last sip. It takes a strong man to take the Cock more that a few times in one night, lest you begin to gag.
Ron Diaz Gran Reserve Spiced Rum is very close to what I expected. It's Captain Morgan light, with a much more palatable texture to suit the college crowd. On the very first sip, the only word that came to mind was "silky." This rum caresses your tongue. It has a pleasant aroma and a sweet taste (perhaps too sweet) with vanilla notes. The smoothness of Ron Diaz gives it a week start, but it has a warm finish. This rum pushes it's worth at $14 a bottle, but I think I'll stick with my Captain Morgan. It's the same price, and the Ron Diaz is just too sweet for my taste. Not to come off as high and mighty with my refined pallet, but this rum has one purpose only, and that is to get the college girls shit faced. * editor's note from B James: should "shit faced" be "naked"? *
Wiser's Very Old 18 Year Blended Canadian Whisky (they need to pick a shorter name) was exactly as I had hoped. It is a real nice, smooth, mellow, aged whisky. It goes down smooth, but still is alcohol through and through. There seems to be a ruminess to it, if that's a word. It has a very light rum flavor or we'll say rum essence (not to be confused with sweetness). It is possible that they may age the stuff in old rum casks. There really isn't much more that needs to be said about Wiser's 18 except that it's damn fine whisky.
If I had to pick one bottle out of the four that I am truly glad I bought, it would have to be the Pusser's. Wiser's would come in a close second, but it just didn't have quite the affect on me as the rum. I sipped it and thought "hmm, that is a damn fine whiskey." But the Pusser's was "wow! I wasn't ready for that, but I like it." It's unique bold taste stands out from any other rum I've ever tried, and the history behind the rum just add to its mystique.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Happy Saint Patty's Day
Yes, it's that time of year to don those tacky shamrock glasses, your favorite drinking shirt, and pound back 37 bottles of cheap green beer. Though the holiday was already celebrated this past Saturday in most cities in the U.S., that doesn't mean today shouldn't still be celebrated as well. There's only one problem. You have work in the morning. OK, I know some of you don't have jobs to worry about, but for the rest of us that attempt to contribute to society, this puts us in a bit of a predicament. Well hopefully you've gotten the binge out of the way over the weekend. After all, that's what weekend is are for. Fortunately there are plenty of ways to enjoy the good Irish spirit without getting totally shit faced, allowing you to function the next day at your normal capacity (about 23%).
Instead of hitting the club scene where overweight frat boys run around drunk in "Kiss Me I'm an Asshole" T-shirts and girls who should be wearing this on there belt buckle,
try to do something a little low key. There are plenty of alternatives that let you enjoy the spirit of the Eire without losing your job the next day, or catching chlamydia.I like to find a nice hole-in-the-wall bar or a traditional Irish pub. Or better yet, pickup some booze and host a little St. Patrick's Day celebration of own. Pickup some nice Irish stouts or a good porter. Guinness is the best known and is the stout by which all others are judged. It is definitely is fine brew, and I like to think of it as "liquid bread", but why not try something else this season. Grab yourself some Murphy's or Beamish. Murphy's Irish Stout is heavy in it's maltiness and has a chocolate finish that goes down smooth. Personally, I've never tried Beamish, but I hear it has a more roasted flavor than Guinness. Up until recent years, these three were about all you could get this side of the Atlantic. Fortunately,
in the wave of new upstart micro brews here in the States, the American pallet has been primed and ready for some quality imports. Don't know what to look for? Find yourself a bar with a wide selection of bottles and more obscure brews on tap. Chances are the barkeep will be able to point you in the right direction.Stouts too heavy for you? Then try your hand at an Irish red ale. Immediately when those words are uttered, people think of Killian's, but George Killian's Irish Red is NOT a red ale. It is in fact a lager style beer. It also happens to be an American brew produced by Coors. So if your trying to earn brownie points with the leprechauns, so they'll show you where their pot o' gold is, find something else to drink (if this has actually happened to you, you have gone and smoked yourself retarded). Some good Irish red ales include Smithwick's, Moling's Traditional Red Ale, or Galway Hooker.
Whatever you chose to drink this Saint Patrick's Day, don't forget to chase it down with a nice shot of Irish whiskey.
Hmmm, that's the good stuff. Here's to a long life and a merry one.
A quick death and an easy one.
A pretty girl and an honest one.
A cold pint- and another one!
Beannachtam na Feile Padraig!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Spring Training
So I just got back from a mini vacation to escape the winter blues. The wife and I went down to Bradenton, FL for Pirates Spring Training. It was a nice extended weekend. I managed to get sunburned on the very first day. Anyways, in my previous post Sui Generis, I talked about how I like to pick up spirits unavailable in PA whenever I go out of town. Well, we ended up checking a bag on our return flight specifically for the booze we picked up, and I thought I might share with you what we got.
Fighting Cock Straight Kentucky Bourbon: This 103 proof whiskey is aged a minimum of 6 years. I am thoroughly expecting it to be anything but high class, but when you have a name like that and a crazed rooster on the bottle, it's hard not to say "oh, I gotta get me some of that."
Pusser's British Navy Rum is the original Navy Rum. The recipe was purchased from the Royal Navy by an American Entrepreneur after the Navy officially ended a long tradition of issuing daily rum rations to sailors. The back of the bottle touts a fanciful story of how the rum has been traditionally made in wooden pot stills over the past two hundred years, and how this process somehow imbues the rum with it's unique characteristics. A pleasant tail, but not exactly 100% accurate. The truth is that Pusser's doesn't distill their own rum at all. The original recipe, dating back over 350 years, is actually a blend of five other rums from various West Indian Islands; a process that today's modern Navy rum still follows. I plan to write a more in depth article about the Royal Navy's rum at a later date. I've been reading a very good book about rum's influence on the New World. It's because of this fascination that I told myself I had to buy a bottle of Pusser's if I ever came across it.
Wiser's Very Old 18 Year Blended Canadian Whisky: I am Actually quite surprised that the PLCB does not carry any of the Wiser's line. It happens to be a fairly well known and established brand. Even Thorogood refers to his good buddy Wiser in his song "I drink Alone" (and you thought he was just singing about beer). As the name implies, this is a very old Canadian whisky. It's been aged 18 years and I am looking forward to cracking this one open.
Ron Diaz Spiced Rum is a 3 year old rum out of Barbados. I didn't know a thing about this rum when I bought it. After some research, I found out that it's actually is a pretty cheap rum popular with the college crowd. I found this picture of what the bottle used to look like.
I was definitely drawn in by a very well done makeover. But it may not be just cosmetic. I also noticed that they upped the alcohol content from what used to be 60 proof to 70. But I never knock anything till I try it. I truly hope it turns out good. After all, back in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries Barbados was where all the best rum came from. Of course back then you're basically comparing one distillery to another by who threw more dead rats into the mix to kick-start the fermentation, or how many chamber pots were emptied in to keep the slaves from steeling it. Hmm tasty.
So that's what I brought back from Florida. I will be sure to give a follow up on how things turn out once I get around to trying them all. Until then, keep on drink'n.
Fighting Cock Straight Kentucky Bourbon: This 103 proof whiskey is aged a minimum of 6 years. I am thoroughly expecting it to be anything but high class, but when you have a name like that and a crazed rooster on the bottle, it's hard not to say "oh, I gotta get me some of that."
Pusser's British Navy Rum is the original Navy Rum. The recipe was purchased from the Royal Navy by an American Entrepreneur after the Navy officially ended a long tradition of issuing daily rum rations to sailors. The back of the bottle touts a fanciful story of how the rum has been traditionally made in wooden pot stills over the past two hundred years, and how this process somehow imbues the rum with it's unique characteristics. A pleasant tail, but not exactly 100% accurate. The truth is that Pusser's doesn't distill their own rum at all. The original recipe, dating back over 350 years, is actually a blend of five other rums from various West Indian Islands; a process that today's modern Navy rum still follows. I plan to write a more in depth article about the Royal Navy's rum at a later date. I've been reading a very good book about rum's influence on the New World. It's because of this fascination that I told myself I had to buy a bottle of Pusser's if I ever came across it.
Wiser's Very Old 18 Year Blended Canadian Whisky: I am Actually quite surprised that the PLCB does not carry any of the Wiser's line. It happens to be a fairly well known and established brand. Even Thorogood refers to his good buddy Wiser in his song "I drink Alone" (and you thought he was just singing about beer). As the name implies, this is a very old Canadian whisky. It's been aged 18 years and I am looking forward to cracking this one open.
Ron Diaz Spiced Rum is a 3 year old rum out of Barbados. I didn't know a thing about this rum when I bought it. After some research, I found out that it's actually is a pretty cheap rum popular with the college crowd. I found this picture of what the bottle used to look like.
I was definitely drawn in by a very well done makeover. But it may not be just cosmetic. I also noticed that they upped the alcohol content from what used to be 60 proof to 70. But I never knock anything till I try it. I truly hope it turns out good. After all, back in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries Barbados was where all the best rum came from. Of course back then you're basically comparing one distillery to another by who threw more dead rats into the mix to kick-start the fermentation, or how many chamber pots were emptied in to keep the slaves from steeling it. Hmm tasty.So that's what I brought back from Florida. I will be sure to give a follow up on how things turn out once I get around to trying them all. Until then, keep on drink'n.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Here’s to the economy!
So you’re sitting in your fallout shelter, shivering and perhaps even struggling to retain control over your bladder. You’re worried that the economy, and indeed society at large, is on a downhill slide and soon you’ll either be the sexual plaything of a large man in a hockey mask, or attaching a cow catcher to the front of your Ford Falcon. You’re terrified. You’re stressed out. Let’s face it, you’re a fucking mess. And what’s worst is you have absolutely no control over the situation at all. That’s when things are most terrifying. No one person caused this situation, and no one person can fix it… or even put a dent in it. Yet it affects us all. And so you sit alone in your basement, waiting for the seemingly inevitable shithammer to fall. Well, I have good news for you. There’s a treatment for your symptoms that will actually do a small part to resolve the cause: have a drink!
Seriously, go get a glass and a bottle and get to work. But not just any bottle will do, no. This requires careful selection. You look like shit, so beer and wine are out. No, strong spirits are required to steady your shaking hands. 80 proof or more. But before you grab that bottle of Imperia off the shelf and go to town, let’s take a moment to think this thing through logically.
If you down a few shots of some imported spirit, you’re siphoning much of the price of that bottle out of our economy. That’s only going to make the situation worse! Then you’ll get more frightened and depressed and then you’ll need to drink even more; turning this into a vicious cycle. The next thing you know, you’re drunk, lonely, broke, and you’ve ruined the American economy. And that won’t do.
But, on the other hand, if you think about your selection for a second –and specifically I’m talking about who will get your hard-earned booze money, then you can make a selection that’s good for you, good for me, and good for the American people: Bourbon. By law, Bourbon has to be made in Bourbon County, Kentucky. So right off the bat, you know this is a product made with pride by hard-working Americans. Also by law, the mash the liquor is distilled from is required to be over 50% corn. Now… what country grows the most corn in the world? I think you’re starting to get the picture, here. And once that wonderful white lightning comes out of the still, it’s put into barrels made of lightly charred American White Oak to age. So you’ve got American ingredients being used by Americans with American equipment made of American natural resources to produce an exclusively American Product. Seriously, baseball and apple pie ain’t got shit on a shot of Beam!
When you fork over the cash for a bottle of Bourbon, your money goes to American workers, American businessmen, American farmers, American loggers… and do you want to talk about taxes? Do you want to talk about how much Uncle Sam gets out of this deal? The ingredients get taxed, the materials get taxed, the workers and businesses pay taxes, then the federal government collects excise tax on the liquor... it’s a monetary love-fest that ends with you getting wasted!
So there you go. Next time you’re feeling down, grab a bottle of your favorite Bourbon and raise your glass to more comfortable times. It’ll make you feel better, and you might just save the economy.
Seriously, go get a glass and a bottle and get to work. But not just any bottle will do, no. This requires careful selection. You look like shit, so beer and wine are out. No, strong spirits are required to steady your shaking hands. 80 proof or more. But before you grab that bottle of Imperia off the shelf and go to town, let’s take a moment to think this thing through logically.
If you down a few shots of some imported spirit, you’re siphoning much of the price of that bottle out of our economy. That’s only going to make the situation worse! Then you’ll get more frightened and depressed and then you’ll need to drink even more; turning this into a vicious cycle. The next thing you know, you’re drunk, lonely, broke, and you’ve ruined the American economy. And that won’t do.
But, on the other hand, if you think about your selection for a second –and specifically I’m talking about who will get your hard-earned booze money, then you can make a selection that’s good for you, good for me, and good for the American people: Bourbon. By law, Bourbon has to be made in Bourbon County, Kentucky. So right off the bat, you know this is a product made with pride by hard-working Americans. Also by law, the mash the liquor is distilled from is required to be over 50% corn. Now… what country grows the most corn in the world? I think you’re starting to get the picture, here. And once that wonderful white lightning comes out of the still, it’s put into barrels made of lightly charred American White Oak to age. So you’ve got American ingredients being used by Americans with American equipment made of American natural resources to produce an exclusively American Product. Seriously, baseball and apple pie ain’t got shit on a shot of Beam!
When you fork over the cash for a bottle of Bourbon, your money goes to American workers, American businessmen, American farmers, American loggers… and do you want to talk about taxes? Do you want to talk about how much Uncle Sam gets out of this deal? The ingredients get taxed, the materials get taxed, the workers and businesses pay taxes, then the federal government collects excise tax on the liquor... it’s a monetary love-fest that ends with you getting wasted!
So there you go. Next time you’re feeling down, grab a bottle of your favorite Bourbon and raise your glass to more comfortable times. It’ll make you feel better, and you might just save the economy.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Pennsyltuckey Bound
Speak to someone who's visited rural Western Pennsylvania, and there's a good chance you'll hear the word "Pennsyltuckey" used in a derogatory fashion. It's a geographically-specific slur close in line with words like hick, hillbilly, and redneck; but this insult carries with it a sadness, harkening to a proud rural tradition that was forced to find a new home some 215 years ago, and with it a distinctive regional libation.
Before the days of highways and airports, the Appalachian Mountains were a significant geographical boundary cutting through the heart of Pennsylvania. So significant was this barrier that Western Pennsylvania applied to the Continental Congress as a separate state called Westsylvania. They were categorically denied. Still, they fought fiercely in the revolution with rifled-barrel long arms called "Jagers". Once independence was won, they hung up their Pennsylvania Rifles and returned to their lives of farming and distilling a uniquely American spirit: Pennsylvania Rye Whiskey.
When the new federal government imposed exorbitant taxes on small distilleries, the primary source of income for these fiercely independent Westsylvanians was eliminated. The violent Whiskey Rebellion that followed was quelled only when an army larger than was needed to win the revolution marched on Pittsburgh. Rather than bend to federal oppression, many farmers packed up their rifles and whiskey and moved to more remote territories like Kentucky where the federal government had little influence. In this new home, their unique spirits would evolve as corn became the dominant grain, and aging in charred white oak barrels transformed Pennsylvania Rye into Kentucky Bourbon.
But Rye continued to be the dominant spirit in the rapidly expanding United States for over a century, with large companies replacing the over-taxed independent distilleries. Beer or wine were seldom seen as liquor traveled much better; and Rye relied solely on domestic ingredients, unlike the previous American booze king: rum. Even after the Civil War, the American West was not fueled by "redeye" (which is, in fact, not even alcohol, but a highly poisonous derivative of sterno) nor by Bourbon, now revered as the most American of spirits. No, when Doc Holiday strode up to a bar and knocked on the countertop, it would have been a bottle of Pennsylvania, or "Monongahela" Rye that would have been placed in front of him.
Prohibition finally sounded the death-knell for Rye. The advent of the cocktail and the bootlegging of Canadian whiskey during those dry times acclimatized American pallets to sweeter alcohol; and the smoother, smokey taste of bourbon won people over after repelation. Soon the names of Craig and Beam were supplanting Overholt and Schenley on backbars. Rye was at best a specialty, at worst a relic.
Rye survived the remainder of the 20th century through companies like Jim Beam, which produced its own Rye and even purchased Old Overholt in 1987. Now Rye is enjoying a resurgence in popularity, and old and new brands share space on the liquor store shelf. Sazerak, Templeton, Old Overholt, Wild Turkey Green Label, and Jim Beam Yellow Label sit side by side and offer a generous range of whiskey experiences.
Old Overholt still bears a label our afore-mentioned buddy Doc would quickly recognize, though whether the flavor resembles its original Monongahela style is unclear. Still, it offers a light-handed and subtle taste of how fermented rye differs from the sourness of fermented corn.
For that comparison, though, maybe Beam Yellow serves us best. Being made by the bourbon people, it's a sharp taste of what happened when distillers changed their grain bill. It can be harsh for someone used to smooth and sour bourbons, but rewarding if your tongue will allow it past your tonsils.
Templeton is a brand that has taken a strange journey to the 21st century. It's been a registered corporation since 1965, but they recently switched to an older recipe dating back to the company's... less than legal days. Whether or not that story is true, and regardless of the old recipe's resemblance to Pennsylvania Rye, the quality of the product can't be denied. The bouquet demands careful attention; and its sweet, light, and fruity flavor belies its brute alcoholic power.
The most complex flavor composition of this bunch, however, belongs to Sazerac. Though it probably bears little resemblance to the Monongahela spirits the late 18th century, that in no way necessitates a lack of quality. In fact, as far as flavor goes, it shines above all other brands on the market now, offering the full-on kick to the teeth of Rye, with a fruity middle and a cinnamon finish. Perfectly suited for either sipping or shooting, the price is the only thing that makes it not optimal for heavy imbibing.
That title has to be taken by Wild Turkey Green. From the makers of the quintessential finish to a bad day (and start of a bad night) comes high-octane rye whiskey with a Southern accent. Sure, I could scrutinize its forceful Rye bouquet, or the wonderful afterglow that stays in your mouth after the initial burn fades; but the long and shot is it tastes fantastic and will fuck your shit up in a hurry, which for me exemplifies everything that is pure and wonderful about distilled spirits.
Before the days of highways and airports, the Appalachian Mountains were a significant geographical boundary cutting through the heart of Pennsylvania. So significant was this barrier that Western Pennsylvania applied to the Continental Congress as a separate state called Westsylvania. They were categorically denied. Still, they fought fiercely in the revolution with rifled-barrel long arms called "Jagers". Once independence was won, they hung up their Pennsylvania Rifles and returned to their lives of farming and distilling a uniquely American spirit: Pennsylvania Rye Whiskey.
When the new federal government imposed exorbitant taxes on small distilleries, the primary source of income for these fiercely independent Westsylvanians was eliminated. The violent Whiskey Rebellion that followed was quelled only when an army larger than was needed to win the revolution marched on Pittsburgh. Rather than bend to federal oppression, many farmers packed up their rifles and whiskey and moved to more remote territories like Kentucky where the federal government had little influence. In this new home, their unique spirits would evolve as corn became the dominant grain, and aging in charred white oak barrels transformed Pennsylvania Rye into Kentucky Bourbon.
But Rye continued to be the dominant spirit in the rapidly expanding United States for over a century, with large companies replacing the over-taxed independent distilleries. Beer or wine were seldom seen as liquor traveled much better; and Rye relied solely on domestic ingredients, unlike the previous American booze king: rum. Even after the Civil War, the American West was not fueled by "redeye" (which is, in fact, not even alcohol, but a highly poisonous derivative of sterno) nor by Bourbon, now revered as the most American of spirits. No, when Doc Holiday strode up to a bar and knocked on the countertop, it would have been a bottle of Pennsylvania, or "Monongahela" Rye that would have been placed in front of him.
Prohibition finally sounded the death-knell for Rye. The advent of the cocktail and the bootlegging of Canadian whiskey during those dry times acclimatized American pallets to sweeter alcohol; and the smoother, smokey taste of bourbon won people over after repelation. Soon the names of Craig and Beam were supplanting Overholt and Schenley on backbars. Rye was at best a specialty, at worst a relic.
Rye survived the remainder of the 20th century through companies like Jim Beam, which produced its own Rye and even purchased Old Overholt in 1987. Now Rye is enjoying a resurgence in popularity, and old and new brands share space on the liquor store shelf. Sazerak, Templeton, Old Overholt, Wild Turkey Green Label, and Jim Beam Yellow Label sit side by side and offer a generous range of whiskey experiences.
Old Overholt still bears a label our afore-mentioned buddy Doc would quickly recognize, though whether the flavor resembles its original Monongahela style is unclear. Still, it offers a light-handed and subtle taste of how fermented rye differs from the sourness of fermented corn.
For that comparison, though, maybe Beam Yellow serves us best. Being made by the bourbon people, it's a sharp taste of what happened when distillers changed their grain bill. It can be harsh for someone used to smooth and sour bourbons, but rewarding if your tongue will allow it past your tonsils.
Templeton is a brand that has taken a strange journey to the 21st century. It's been a registered corporation since 1965, but they recently switched to an older recipe dating back to the company's... less than legal days. Whether or not that story is true, and regardless of the old recipe's resemblance to Pennsylvania Rye, the quality of the product can't be denied. The bouquet demands careful attention; and its sweet, light, and fruity flavor belies its brute alcoholic power.
The most complex flavor composition of this bunch, however, belongs to Sazerac. Though it probably bears little resemblance to the Monongahela spirits the late 18th century, that in no way necessitates a lack of quality. In fact, as far as flavor goes, it shines above all other brands on the market now, offering the full-on kick to the teeth of Rye, with a fruity middle and a cinnamon finish. Perfectly suited for either sipping or shooting, the price is the only thing that makes it not optimal for heavy imbibing.
That title has to be taken by Wild Turkey Green. From the makers of the quintessential finish to a bad day (and start of a bad night) comes high-octane rye whiskey with a Southern accent. Sure, I could scrutinize its forceful Rye bouquet, or the wonderful afterglow that stays in your mouth after the initial burn fades; but the long and shot is it tastes fantastic and will fuck your shit up in a hurry, which for me exemplifies everything that is pure and wonderful about distilled spirits.
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