Meet the family
One of the things that happens when you become a whiskey drinker is people start to give you whiskey, lots of whiskey. This is a wonderful thing. I decided to perform a little stock take today as the drinks cabinet is getting a little crowded and I seem to be behind on my drinking.
14 bottles and 8 assorted miniatures. Probably enough to kill a grown man. I think that’s a reasonable amount to keep on hand for emergencies, enough to kill a grown man. There are plenty of situations that would call for this amount of whiskey to be on hand, an Irish Wake for instance.
I thought I would do a couple of posts on the current collection and share my uneducated thoughts. If you want proper opinions go to Whiskyfun or Irishwhiskeynotes. I’m merely a man with a lot of whiskey in his cupboard.
I’ll start with worst of the collection, the Jack Daniels Silver Select.
The only American in the bunch, this stuff is pure drain cleaner. The Americans make their whiskey from mashed corn because their taste buds are genetically malformed from years of eating marshmallow breakfast cereal and spray on cheese. The Brother brought it back from the states and I hadn’t the heart to tell him drinking it was like being punched in the throat by a tramp. It has a little silver dog tag around the neck in case you die whilst drinking it and they have to ship you back to the Jack Daniels factory in a body bag. When your decaying corpse arrives, presumably still clutching the bottle in a death grip, they pry the bottle from your dead hands and tip corpse and contents right back into the brewing vats with the corn to begin the process again.
Tomorrow we move on to the real stuff.
January 23rd, 2009 at 4:27 am
Note to self: don’t bring Donal American whiskey.
I don’t drink the stuff myself, so that shouldn’t happen, but now it looks like you’ll be getting a six-pack of Schlitz.
January 23rd, 2009 at 9:15 am
No, no, don’t misunderstand me, there are many fine purveyors of the American art of corn mash whiskey making, Knob Creek and Makers Mark being two examples that spring to mind. Unfortunately Jack Daniels is not one of them.
Also this guide is presented somewhat tongue in cheek.
January 23rd, 2009 at 11:13 am
Brian, bring him some Southern Comfort. Because, really, if anything says American like taking Jack Daniels and adding loads of sugar, I don’t know what it’d be.
January 23rd, 2009 at 11:23 am
Gah! Southern Comfort is brewed by pederasts and sheep rapists and distilled from a substance collected from the STD clinics of New Orleans.
January 23rd, 2009 at 5:23 pm
Heh, Knob Creek.
January 23rd, 2009 at 6:07 pm
I was told that Southern Comfort was made from a syrupy substance extracted from the anal glands of diabetic pigs. Diabetic pigs can make the most delicious bacon, but this sugary gland-syrup builds up in their rear ends and gives them the most awful dreams. To prevent spoilage (nightmares create antiendorphins that turn bacon green) the glands are catheterised (‘comforted’) and the run-off is transported to ten-foot settling tanks.
The top three feet of the tank is skimmed and sold as Kool-Aid. The tank is then rotated by ninety degrees to allow a sort of thick, ropey cream to drain away; this is dried to a waxy substance and sold as cherry lip balm.
The thick reddish glar that clings to the very bottom of the tank is scraped free by lepers (the astringent glar eases their sores), mixed with butyl alcohol and sold as Southern Comfort.
As the ad says, “So-co and lime? So-co and lime! So-co and lime! So-co and lime for everyone!”
January 23rd, 2009 at 6:17 pm
I’d also conject that this collection of yours is a few glasses more than necessary to kill a man. I am a large man with an efficient liver, the heart of an ox, and an in-built overdose survival response that would walk me to the nearest hospital, give my name and address, and collapse me in front of the most qualified-looking doctor without activating a single neuron outside of my lizard brain. But still this collection of yours would kill me three times over and preserve me in my death-throes for all time.
January 27th, 2009 at 12:22 pm
Note to self: Don’t buy Donal Jack Daniels whiskey.
Instead give 5 yoyos to a tramp to punch him in the throat.
Apparently more effective and cheaper!