I should also note that I then ate a Mo’s Bacon Bar (Vosges).

The smoky meaty chocolate would’ve been perfect if eaten in coordination with the Laphroaig. Amazing how that bar actually called to mind the whisky.

– c.

I’m not much of a drinker and, being a college student, what I drink is rarely classy. But you know what’s good? Sangria is good. And there are so many ways to make it.

I just take an orange, slice it in half, squeeze out one half, chop up the other, do the same thing to a lemon, add sparkly mineral water to the juice and mix it up with some cheap table wine. Put in a pitcher, add ice and the chopped fruit and go do some yardwork or write a thesis.

(Also, if you can see this photo – That is the line up of drinks shared by wife and our two most excellent drinking companions last night.)

– c.

This is one area I can see myself being permanently ignorant in. Drinking isn’t really something I get. I like neither the flavour nor the side effects, and as much as people try to get me to drink different things I’ve never really enjoyed any of it more than I would enjoy a similar, alcohol-free drink. Straight-up liquor is right out.

I must preface anything I say regarding booze with the disclaimer that I am something of an amateur when it comes to drinking. Chuck can testify, nary a drop of the stuff passed my lips whilst in colle-…
Ok, I’m the dick that broke a tooth gnawing on a metal doorjamb.

So, my favorites (they do not include scotches or whiskeys or bourbons… I don’t drink those, anymore. Not since I was followed around by an Imp with a sock full of pennies):

Gosling Black Seal Rum – Dark unspiced rum. This rum contains the swirling clouds of every Caribbean hurricane since the time of Columbus encapsulated in a rather innocuous-looking bottle. But the taste… it’s like being that first Spaniard/Portuguese sailor stepping off the boat only to be greeted by a buxom, exotic 15th-century Caribbean princess. Best way to drink it? Mixed with ginger beer to make the astounding Dark n Stormy.

Patron Silver – (In a pinch you can drink Herradura) This is the tequila that sealed the deal for me. This made me ‘get it.’ Tequila was not meant to be something that got freshmen girls wandering around fraternity houses crying that nobody loved them as they palmed their crotches and swayed in a drunken suggestive (sobbing) tempo to the garbled music blasting through well-popped speakers. No, my friends, tequila should taste like the desert – dry, fiery, spicy. The gold is ok, the platinum is over-rated… The silver… that’s always in my freezer. Best way to drink it – well-chilled, highball glass, two cubes, maybe a sliver of orange peel.

Absinthe – I am just now really starting to get into this green-tinged world. And it’s a good world. A very good world. Believe what you want about the stories of heavy hallucination – I know heavy hallucinations, and they don’t come from the green faerie. What you do get is this wonderful anisette flavor tempered by fresh spring water and one sugar cube slowly dissolved into the murky depths. See, it pours clear… and chartreuse like some Star Trekkian Holo-Deck pretense. Then you place your slotted spoon across the rim of the glass, gently settle an ice cube over the slots, and slowly pour a couple of ounces of cold water as the cube melts away. The glass begins to cloud until it looks not unlike (to stick with the horrible simile) Vulcan baby batter. Then, drink. Slowly. Three or four glasses of the stuff (maybe 4-5 ounces total) will have you intoxicated. Not drunk. Intoxicated… it’s a mellow feeling, quiet, reflective, Pink Floyd-worthy. Best way to drink it? See above.

To answer your final two questions, oh Mighty Weaver, of when and why? I tend to take the view that good liquor (like good beer and good wine) are luxuries. They are these relatively insignificant things, baubles, that when enjoyed and appreciated tend to elevate one’s attitude, one’s outlook. If the thought crosses your mind and it’s at your disposal, no time is better than right then to indulge.
As I get older, the restrictions of feeling that I need a reason or a specified time to enjoy those finer things are slipping away. I like it, and I want it, so… let’s get all Hobbes in this bitch and have a glass.

This is my field. This is my glory. And now you might understand a small part of my snobbery

My normal drink is Laphroaig 10-year. This, to me, is normal drinking whisky. Yes, it’s peaty, and that’s why I like it.

Single malts from Islay are all peaty, to different degrees. Some counter that with a hint of see air and surf (such as Bowmore), others refine that peatiness to a powerful focus (Lagavulin, Aardbeg, and to a lesser degree, Bunnahabhain). Of the Islays, I’d suggest a Laphroaig quarter-cask as it’s more of what you liked a lot about the 10-year, or an 18-year Caol Ila, which refines all that is good about Islay malts into a single whisky.

Now. That’s Islay malts, I’ve focused on them because that’s what you tried and enjoyed. However, different regions have different characteristics. Note that where I mention a malt, pick up a 10- or 12-year unless otherwise stated to see if you like the general flavour:

* Islay malts are very peaty in flavour. Some adherents claim that it’s a factor of this single island and that’s why so many distilleries are there. In fact, for the longest time Islay didn’t have an exciseman for the distilleries to pay tax to. The flavour’s a happy side effect.

* Highland malts are from the North of Scotland, and have a crisper, smoother flavour. I’d suggest Edradour if you can find it (any of their whiskies are like an orgasm in a glass, but if you have the funds spring for cask strength for the notes of toffee), or Dalwhinnie. Glenmorangie is another good bet.

* Island malts are from the islands to the North and West of the country. They don’t really have much by way of similarity between them (as each island produces a distinctive whisky). I’d suggest Highland Park, or perhaps Isle of Jura if you like more of an edge.

* Speyside has the most distilleries of any of the areas, and produces the two best-selling single malts on Earth—the Glenlivet and Glenfiddich. They’re best-selling for a reason, but if you want something slightly off the beaten path go for a Balvenie Double-wood. I’d suggest a Tamnavulin, but they only started production again in 2007 so won’t have anything for a while, though if you see a bottle marked Ben Bracken 12-year grab it, as it’s the last of the old Tamnavulin stock and is bloody delicious.

* Campbeltown malts aren’t particularly fantastic as a group and that’s why you can’t find many of them. If you get the chance, sample a 15-year-old Springbank. It’s the best of the bunch (the 10-year is good, but not particularly fantastic). Much of the rest are forgettable.

* Lowland malts tend to have a lighter taste than other malts due to many of them being triple distilled. They’re also going out of fashion and only three distilleries exist. If you can find some, try a Rosebank (it’s no longer in active production) and compare that light, almost flowery taste with the Laphroaig to understand just how much range exists in the world of single malts. Otherwise, try a Glenkinchie 10-year as an introductory malt. The rest aren’t worth the prices you’d pay in the USA.

Personally, I’m a big fan of Islay and Highland malts, and of the lot I’d suggest finding a Laphroaig quarter-cask, an 18-year Caol Ila, and any Edradour you can get your hands on.

Greatest drinking experience of my life – two summers ago, in Fort Augustus, Scotland on the shores of Loch Ness at a dive bar (started with a G). The locals drank me down starting with the northernmost distillery to the southernmost. Much scotch. Much peat. Much much drunkeness and and old dude pissed himself. It was fucking fantastic.

Welcome, young grasshopper, to the beginnings of your journey into the wonderful world of scotch.

First, let’s get you started on the right foot. You did good with the Laphroig. It is what we call “Single Malt Scotch Whiskey.” This is the best thing you are likely to find at your various drinking establishments. In many sad places you will have simply “Scotch Whiskey” and to understand why this is sad, you have to understand how whiskey is made.

It starts with barley. To make alcohol you can start with anything that has carbohydrates. In France they have grapes. In Asia they have rice. But Scotland is a harsh place and these fancy containers for carbohydrates will not flourish. Barley is hardy, so it does the trick, but oh it is a harsh grain and will not give up the sugars locked away in those carbohydrates easily. Grapes you can crush and, like wanton French hookers, they give up their sugar just for being stepped on. Walk around on some barley with bare feet and all you get is sore feet.

So first you soak that barley in water and spread it out into a thin layer in a warm place. The barley gets fooled and thinks it’s time to start growing, Magic happens in those little grains and enzymes break the complex carbohydrates into sugars. But this must not go on for too long! If it did, you’d have grass and no one wants to drink grass juice.

So after a little bit, you turn up the heat and roast those little baby barley grains, killing them. (Weep for the barley. But not too long, it died in a good cause.) When this roasting is done you have malt. Same kind of thing they put into malted milk balls. It’s sweet from all the sugar and has some complex flavors due to the caramelization of the sugars.

But it’s still a bunch of hard little pellets and if you crush them they just flip two fingers at you and tell you to fuck yourself. They’re not getting you any alcohol goodness.

So you scoop those cheeky bastards up and dump them in a big pot and cook them up with plenty of water. Soon they are screaming like little girls and releasing those sugars in all their tasty goodness into the water. Now you’ve got what’s called wort, which is basically a Scottish word for “big fuckin’ vat of sugar water, what the fuck’s kinda soup is that?”

Once the wort’s cooled you toss some yeast into it. Yeast is a micro-organism given to man by gods like Dionysus and it exists for no other reason than to eat sugar and crap out alcohol. The yeast does its stuff for a while and you have a mildly alcoholic soup. If you were to add some hops to the process here, you’d have beer. But beer, while a good result, isn’t quite good enough for the Scots.

A frugal people, the Scots figured out it was a lot of fuckin’ hard work to cart bushels of barley to market for very little return. Barrels of beer were better because there was a reduction in volume and increase in price. Ah, but if were were to distill that beer, it’d be even smaller and fetch an even higher price. Thus was whiskey born.

So you take you proto-beer and toss it into a pot that has a bent pipe coming out the top. You heat up the soup and from the end of that pipe you collect the little drips of condensed alcohol. Your operating what’s called a pot still. These stills are inefficient, so all sorts of cool flavors come along for the ride. Including the taste of the peat used to roast the malt back at the beginning of the process.

So now you’ve got Scottish farmers raising barley, cooking up their whiskey and taking it to town to sell it for what they want. They take their casks of whiskey to the store of one Johnny Walker. He trades their whiskey for niceties like flour and cloth and whatever Scots farmers ain’t got (which is a lot).

Now he’s got a bunch of casks of whiskey. He can sell them alright, but his customers complain. This cask doesn’t taste the same as that cask. Mr. Walker thinks and this and when both casks are half-full, he pours the one into the other. Now he’s got a cask that tastes all the same!

Well, after a while, the economics of all this get wrapped up like they always do and someone comes up with a more efficient still. It’s called the “column still” and it sucks alcohol out of warmed alcohol vapor like a Bangkok whore sucks golf balls through hoses. Sad thing is, it also leaves behind all those lovely flavors. So no matter what sort of product you start with, what you end up with is over-refined, characterless ethyl alcohol. Vodka basically.

So, back to “Scotch Whiskey” vs. “Single Malt Scotch Whiskey.”

Single Malt Scotch Whiskey is the product of a pot still that started with one bit ol’ batch of barley that was all malted at the same place.

Your Johnny Walkers, your Chivas Regals, your Cutty Sarks. These are simply vodkas that have had bits and pieces of single malts added to them to produce a consistent flavor. They mostly suck. There are a few that are decent (The Famous Grouse, for one) but mostly they aren’t worth your time.

I have had exactly one Single Malt Scotch Whiskey that was actively bad. All the others I have liked to one degree or another and I have my favorites. But if you make sure the bottle you says “single malt” you’re likely in good shape.

Now, you’re very correct that single malts have a sense of place. In fact, there are broad categories of single malts based on where they are made in Scotland.

Lowland Single Malts come from the area in the south of Scotland where it borders England. It is a land of broad fields and open country. The whiskeys produced here tend to be lighter in color, have less of the smokey taste of peat, and have more grassy flavors. A representative of the type is Auchentoshen.

Highland Single Malts are more peaty, tend to have a more caramel color, and have more of a malty flavor. (Beware of color as a gauge, however, as distillers learned the public equate darker with better and started adding caramel color to their whiskey.) One of the best of these style is the whiskeys from Glenmorangie.

Speyside Single Malts come from a number of distilleries along the Spey river. Glenfiddich and Glenlivit are probably the most well-known of these distilleries. The vast number of great output of these distilleries make them essentially the “default” taste of Single Malts.

Related to the Speysides are the Cambletown Single Malts. They are much fewer and so harder to find, but worth exploring. I like the Springbank, particularly the 21-year old I had back in 1995 in Glasgow. (Another benefit of drinking single malts is you get to talk about having 21-year-olds in 1995 in Glasgow.)

The Laphroig you had is an example of an Islay Single Malt. These tend to have strong peat flavors and distilled and aged out on the weather-battered islands of northern Scotland, many pick up iodine flavors from the sea. You’re saying “ick!” now, but think back to that taste of peat and the saltiness of bacon. Oh yeah, that’s what these whiskeys mix up. The Islays are my favorites.

Ardbeg is the single malt that called Laphroig a “nancy boy” in high school. It’s a big, full-flavored whiskey that will fill your mouth with flavors that have no business being there in the light of day. It will pull your taste buds out by the roots and jack itself directly into your brains taste centers to explode your head with the experience of being a poor fisherman who just spent six months at sea trying to make a living for his family only to return and find his wife has left him for some slick IT guy on the mainland, his dog has a stomach tumor and his oldest boy has become a goth transvestite.

You probably aren’t ready for Ardbeg.

Pussy.

Lagavullen. Minimum of 12 year, or a baby dies. A random boy will grow his first chest hair and his testes will drop if you buy 18 year.

Now me? I love tequila. I love red wine. White wine tends to taste like a gym sock soaked in cheese, duct taped to a skunk’s taint and soaked in brine. I’ve had “proper” whites before, I just don’t like them. But give me a good wine from the Alexander Valley (Cali) or especially a bordeaux from St. Emillion or the Haut Medoc, and I’m as happy as a pig in a clean pen, rolling in fine linen, because pigs actually like the finer things, they’re tired of this whole “rolling in shit” stuff. True story.

But last night it was all about the mojito, because it was in the 80s and the sun was shining and my mint is bushy. I call my lady part my mint. Too far? Did I take us somewhere new and frightening?

(And btw, my tequila of choice for a good mid-range price is Milagro Silver. I doubt you can get it up there, I’ve been sad by the choices of tequila outside of Texas/California. But if you can find it, grab it. It’s so good you can sip it like a pretentious asshole. Pinky out, please.)

Leap frog is gooooooood. I also like Talisker, that’s nice with a little bit of cheese to nibble on a rainy day.

But hey, That knob creek is also good, in a very different way. Bourbon i can sit and drink in any mood. Scotch i can sit and drink when i’m in the right mood.

I’m with you on whisky. My first novel’s central conceit centers around whisky, and the fact that it is the purest essence of where it comes from. And Laphroaig was a revelation for me as well.

You’ve already hit on my number one choice for everyday drinking with Laphroaig. To my mind, their 10-year is better even than their quarter-cask, so I’d say save your money.

If you want to try something light and clean, I’d recommend The Macallan 12-Year. It’s a marvelous Highland whisky, and one of my all-time favorites. Their 18 is lovely as well, but like Laphroaig’s quarter-cask, I’m not sure it’s worth the extra coin.

If you’re looking for another big and peaty one, try Lagavulin. Smokier than Laphroaig, and to my mind, not as broadly drinkable, but that’s like saying truffles ain’t quite as tasty as foie.

If you want a little bit of both worlds, another fave of mine is The Arran 10-year malt. It’s made on the isle of Arran, and contains both the lighter notes of a Highland whisky, and the peaty notes of an Islay malt.

Oh, and not a one of them will run you a hundred bucks…

I should note that being in Pennsylvania is a righteous bite in the dick when it comes to buying booze. Can only buy in liquor stores, and they carry limited stock — if you can’t find it, you can order it, but you have to order 12 bottles.

The good part is, our stores are pretty good about whisky.

They’re not so good about tequila, and for mezcal, they’re utter pants.

Tequila is another thing I’d love to get a proper taste for — one of our advisors at Sundance (Sebastian Cordero, director of the excellent ‘Cronicas’) proselyted about the joys of tequila and mezcal, and basically said that the normal off-the-shelf brands are nonsense. Like with any good whisky or wine, you gotta go beyond the Patrons and the Sauzas and look for the smaller stuff, the stuff that supports that ‘terroir’ — the region, the culture, the different ways of preparation.

– c.

@Chris: Definitely leaning toward a bottle of Laphroaig, 10-year, just because — mmm. Proper. Macallan, I was wondering — I don’t think anybody’s brought it up yet, and it’s pretty popular on liquor store shelves here.

@String: Bourbon is good. At present, I lean more toward Maker’s Mark than Knob Creek. I’m definitely more a Scotch drinker than a bourbon drinker at present. If I’m just in a generic drinking mood, I go wine or beer.

@Stoney: White wine ain’t always great, no — it often feels like a balless scrotum as far as drinking goes, but some whites are good on a summer day. Last night at the first restaurant was a caipirinha, a favorite drink of mine.

– c.

@Pete:

Holy crap.

Thanks for the head’s up.

Also, you’re very angry about this whole thing. I will submit the paperwork to get you on some Xanax or something.

I did know a lot of that, re: Scotch, but I do appreciate the infodump! (And is it Ardbeg, or Aardbeg? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it on the shelves here so it won’t much matter, but still.)

– c.

Caol Ila 8, cask strength. I don’t know if the distillery intends it to be a regular offering, but I sure hope so. Peaty and delicious but with an extra boom at 64% alcohol. I keep a glass of water on the side.

Another great cask strength is Aberlour A’bunadh, which is a wicked version of (IMHO) a boring Speyside. It’s all the nearly great things about the main line packaged in one bottle and nothing held back.

For a standby, if you like Laphroaig, Talisker is a fiery, peppery treat that’s relatively inexpensive. Easy to find and easy to love.

The latter two fueled Diaspora design. The first is a staple during our current work.

@Last Rogue: There has to be more to that story.

@Stew: Dang, man, that *is* your glory.

I have Glenfiddich at home, along with Johnny Walker. I’ve had Isle of Jura a number of times, and really love it.

Your notes are, well, noted. And appreciated. I’m in it to win it. I’ve seen Caol Ila a few times, but not recently. Laphroaig 1/4-cask — diggit. Worth the price over a straight 10-year, then? In your estimation?

– c.

@Brad:

Nice. Very cool to see the varying tastes and opinions. Good stuff.

Also: I am negligent in that I have never read Diaspora. I need to rectify this at some point, because I hear wonderful things.

– c.

I already talked about the lovely Laphroaig on Twitter, so I’ll just reiterate: peat! I’d never known what peat tasted like until I sipped the ‘L’ out of my glass, and found my taste buds becoming acquainted with a friend they’d known in a past life, for it was just as recognizable though they’d never met until then. Laphroaig spoiled me rotten, so if someone offers me Johnny Walker and its ilk, I sniff at it.

Rum and red wine are my best alcoholic loves, however. And make both of them dark, sweet, spicy and fruity — none of this clear shit. I’ll use Bacardi when I want my girly drink, not my rum and coke… and even then, I’d rather have Parrot Bay’s flavored rums. (Banana is disgusting, coconut is marginally better, pineapple’s where it’s at.) No: when I drink rum, I have Captain Morgan’s spiced rum. I adored Tattoo while they still made it — it’s so dark in the bottle that it makes the bottle look *BLACK*, and it’s sweeter than the Devil corrupting medieval virgins on a Saturday night in Venice. Couple either with the caramel-colored soda of your choice, and you’re in business. Step up to the cherry or vanilla sodas, and you’re makin’ millions. You’re also getting well and truly blasted, but in a slow, sweet, seductive manner. My rum and Cherry Pepsi is my alcoholic Casanova.

For my red wine, I’ll tell you honestly that I prefer the dessert wines. Since you say you’re a wine snob, then you know just what I’m babbling about: sweet, heavy body, fruity and a bit spicy if it’s a naughty girl. (And being a naughty girl, I like fellow naughties.) I’ll take the finest that you can offer me, but I’m also happy to cozy up to my cheap-ass Riunite Lambrusco. (Hey, it’s better than that boxed-devil Franzia crap or, god forbid, Boone’s Farm.)

On occasion I’ll stray to the whites, but those must too be a dessert wine. I remember a wonderful, sweet white late harvest riesling from the Finger Lakes winery when in Delaware — occasionally my palate will dream about it, and hope to find it again.

@Elissa:

You a Port fan, then?

– c.

Oh, and I’ve never been a rum drinker — not that I dislike it, just… I have no real meaningful exposure to it. I suppose I should fix that eventually.

A couple of people have recommended “cask strength” whiskeys for you. These can be a unique opportunity and a good one at that. The important thing to remember regarding cask strength whiskeys, is that their alcohol content is too high for sustained drinking. Inhale their aromas, sip them at full strength once or twice to get that shovel-to-the-face level of flavor.

The take your little ceramic pitcher of clean, cool (not cold) spring water and add a little bit. to the whiskey.

(What’s that? you don’t have a little ceramic pitcher of spring water? Then give me back that whiskey young man and do not darken my door again! You were probably going to put that glass under the tap, weren’t you? Philistine.)

Watch how the water moves through the alcohol then swirl it a bit to get it well mixed. Now inhale and sip again. Notice how the flavors and aromas changed.

Repeat this process until the whiskey is diluted enough that it won’t completely numb your tongue as you continue to drink. (This is roughly when it gets to be about 40% alcohol or the 80 proof that is typically bottled.)

Also, since you mentioned port, another good exploration for single malt drinkers is sherry.

You see, there aren’t a lot of oak trees in Scotland. So to get casks to age their whiskey in, they went down to English ports where casks of sherry were coming in from Spain. These casks were decanted into fancy bottles and sold to those thieving lowlanders, leaving empty casks in warehouses on the docks. Now, these empty casks could be shipped back to Spain to be refilled, or they could be sold to a Scotsman for a steep discount that at least made the shipper a little money and freed up room in the holds for cargo that someone in Spain would actually pay money for.

The combination of oak, fortified wine, and strong whiskey, creates an alchemical process to draw more flavors into whiskey as long as it remains in the cask. This is why whiskies are bottled with the years they’ve been left in the cask. Once bottled, however, the alchemy stops. So your 10-year-old Laphroig in the bottle today will still be 10 years old if you keep it for 40 more years. (So you might as well drink it up and get a new bottling!)

As sherry became less popular and the Spanish learned about the huge markup they could make by bottling it themselves and shipping bottles rather than casks, the Scots were in a bit of a pickle. I’m sure a few thought of using pickle barrels to age whiskey, but they were summarily beaten about the head and shoulders with day-old haggis.

America came to the rescue in the form of Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey. You see, to be labelled Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey, the liquor must be aged in an oak barrel that is used only once. (A little bow to the timber industry in Kentucky.) So the bourbon makers had all these barrels they couldn’t use any more and the Scots were willing to take them off their hands for good discount.

(For the record, I’m not angry. Or Scottish. Just passionate.)

Best rum I had was the year that a friend brought a bottle of 20-year-old aged rum to Gen Con to complement the 15-year-old Port Ellen I’d brought.

The rum was like drinking butter. Smooth, sweet, sticking to your tongue.

The scotch is one of my favorites from a distillery that’s no longer operating. It was salty and peaty, but smooth drinking with a finish that evaporated in your mouth leaving the sound of waves crashing on rocky shores.

Oh, and it’s Ardbeg. At least it’s http://www.ardbeg.com

I’m partial to Jameson’s and the Glenfiddich when it comes to such beverages, best savored neat.

Vodka with personality: Zubrowka

It’s a rye vodka, and it has just about the most unique flavor I’ve ever tasted. It’s kind of like a vanilla, kind of like a coconut, kind of nutty. It’s remarkably complex.

It also has a piece of grass in it. Which is weird.

It’s a Polish import, but most liquor stores can get it.

The two suggested servings that I’ve tried: Vanilla ice cream and apple cider. Both were outstanding. It’s also very tasty on its own, it’s just about the only vodka I can stand at a temperature below -1,000,000C.

@Chuck

Oh yeah, Makers is the daddy. its also the mommy, the grandaddy and the extended family who visit once a year. Its always my first choice.

@String: Excellent. I enjoy visiting with that whole family. And having sex with the mommy.

@David: Whoa, rye vodka, you say? Okay, fuck it, I’m interested. Can you buy in our draconian state stores?

@Josh: Jameson’s and Glenfiddich are both nice, and I have both — but at this point I’m hoping to move away from the popular (though certainly deserving) mainstays and into other territory.

@Pete: Oh, I know you’re not angry, I was just monkeyin’ around. And I did *not* know that about cask strength — so, your enlightenment continues to, erm, enlighten!

– c.

I went to bartending school.

I am a certified bartender. I have a certificate. I know, by the way you ordered, that you know what you’re talking about, but I will enlighten the internet because it seems like there’s some confusion.

‘Straight up’ is a term used when creating a martini style drink. It suggests the use of a chilled glass instead of ‘over ice’ which is usually served in rocks glasses. Straight up keeps water out of the drink which is probably important if you are drinking a well made called martini. (That is, you don’t want just gin– you want bombay or what have you.) It means what the alcohol tastes like matters to you as much as the cocktail itself. It’s the way I prefer a martini unless I need to pace my drinking for whatever reason. (Ice in the glass means you drink longer and slower because the ice continues to produce liquid that you continue to drink until you get another drink. No ice, you have nothing else to drink, you order faster.)

If you are drinking a straight up martini, and you think it should have vodka in it, you are a cock sucker. I will make you a martini without the gin, and it might even taste good, but it is not a martini. It’s a vodka martini. That matters when you order it from me. Unless you are a cock sucker. In which case you better have a big ol’ cock in your mouth when you make your order… so I know. You know?

So here’s where I get mad.

You ordered a nice top shelf whiskey. (Whisky? Admittedly I don’t know the difference, just that there is one and it has something to do with people not liking the Irish.)

You ordered your nice top shelf whiskey straight. This tells me two things, you know what you want and I probably should argue because you were specific, and that you want to be left the fuck alone with you drink.

Straight, I pour it for you, in a glass, and get the hell out of your hair. Straight is no muss, no fuss, no flourish. No nothing between you, God, and your whiskey. (If I know you, or you are a woman, I MIGHT ask if you want a water back as a compliment, but probably not, because you can get shot for asking that of the wrong person.) ‘Straight up’ does not enter into the equation because straight already precludes any suggestion of temperature to be debating the need for ice or chilled glass.

FUCK! I hate that. I hate that so fucking much.

There was a time in my life when I knew and could make over 200 drinks from memory and could serve 19 cocktails in 12 minutes.

I drink screw drivers. I’m usually not too picky about the vodka. I hate when there’s too much booze to oj. Isn’t that sad?

Re: the Neat. order. I probably SHOULDN’T argue. See.. the whole topic makes me so mad I can’t type straight. Up. FUCK. NEAT.

I think I better go lay down.

Before I get too deep, I should at least make you aware — y’know, for full cocksucker disclosure — that my wife drinks vodka martinis. Dirty, 99 times out of 100.

Whisky is a purely Scottish thing, I think.

– c.

The issue (from the side of the bartender anyway) is in the order. I don’t know, but I suspect she calls, that is to say, suggests a specific type of vodka or else says ‘vodka martini.’ That is a perfectly valid and correct drink and drink order.

Ordering a martini and getting mad because it has gin in it instead of vodka is like ordering a hamburger and being surprised that there’s beef in it. Yes, there are alternative forms of burger, some are even good, but the default is beef and in general, if you want something else, you need to tell someone.

Now is she’s ordering off of a menu that lists vodka is the standard for martinis in that bar or at least for that specific drink, no need to make a distinction. You’re ordering a specific drink.

This also varies by quality of bartender. If he or she is really really really hot, and the place is really really ‘hip’ or a chain (but not a specific martini bar) again, their default might be vodka because vodka is easier to handle. It doesn’t bruise the way gin does.

I like my martini dirty, so I’m not exactly a snob on the drinking end. It’s a communication issue.

@Dave Regarding Zubrowski the buffalo grass vodka — we enjoyed a very cold bottle of that the other night. Part of its distinction is that there is a fair amount of sugar added. We really enjoyed it but its seems impure somehow.

I drink coffee. And I’m just as much a snob about it.

@Chuck – Yeah. I guess my inexperience is showing.

@Mena – What about when it’s ordered ‘neat’?

I can’t really come sloe to topping Pete. He speaks wise, and I give the man a “Harrumph!”.

I will say that I have found at least one Single Malt Scotch made outside of Scotland that I truly do enjoy.

Are you ready for it? It’s Japanese. The 10 year Hakushu. http://bit.ly/b8wPn0

A friend of mine was stationed in Okinawa with the US Navy, and upon one of his visits home he passed over a bottle of this unexpected gem. I tried to hate it. I really did. Others have mocked me. “It’s not from Scotland. It can’t be real Scotch!”

I agree, but still there’s this tiny little zealot covered in bloody Enochian script deep down in the blackened chicken bone of my soul grabbing his corkscrew phallus and screaming, “OPEN IT!”

Hi. My name is Paul, and I like a Japanese Scotch…

“…can’t really come sloe?!?”

Apparently my subconscious is trying to bring other topics into the conversation…

@Filamena — Oh, no worries there. She orders a dirty vodka martini, and recognizes that gin is its true compatriot-in-alcoholic-arms.

And I don’t think a dirty martini is a snobbish or non-snobbish drink — at this point, I think it’s a lovely classic companion to the standard martini.

– c.

@Josh — Oh, I assure you, I’m not elbowing you for your inexperience. Hell, I’m telling you I have the same stuff on my liquor shelf.

– c.

@Paul:

Japanese Scotch?

Wow.

That’s… pickling my noodle.

And heh, can’t really come sloe.

Heh.

I know, I’m like, 12 years old over here.

…

heh.

– c.

I don’t mind a whiskey (generally with soda or dry ginger ale), and like any Australian I drink my body weight in beer every week, but my one true love is bourbon.

Oh, bourbon. You’re always there for me.

The best bourbons are smooth and rich but sharp at the same time, a fullness that stabs. Knob Creek is pretty good, although not as well rounded as it could be. Maker’s Mark is better, as is Booker’s, although the ludicrous strength of Booker’s means I never buy a bottle without someone to share the impact.

Last night a friend bought over a bottle of Gentleman Jack, Jim Beam’s top-shelf bourbon that’s cut with a smidgen of port. Very nice; interestingly mellow with a fruity hint.

But the two best bourbons, hands down, are Wild Turkey Rare Breed and Woodford Reserve. They come from different directions – the Rare Breed is all body, the Reserve smoky – but they are both goddamn wonderful.

On the other hand, Jim Beam (regular) is by no means a ‘good’ bourbon, but I have drunk more of it than any other drink you care to name. It doesn’t care about smoke and body and fruity hints, it cares about getting you shithammered. It doesn’t mind if you mix it with Coke, or lemonade, or half a point of whiz; it just wants to make you drunk. And I have to salute that purity of intent, or I would if my limbs worked and I still had pants.

In closing, I’ll drink pretty much anything except gin and ouzo, so my opinions are a bit suspect.

–
Patrick

So, I could geek all night, but this is my short list. For normal affordable drinking whiskey, I always have a bottle of Oban 14 year and Macallan 12 year. For celebrations, or for special occasions, always have one of the three at any one time, if not all three at the same time:

* Macallan 18 year. Yes, it’s worth it, but only after a while. And understand I don’t like peat whiskey as much as the sherry hint of Macallan, so I don’t typically stock the following:

* Balvenie 21 year. This shares a tradition with Macallan (You are a reader, go read how these are casked, and then read why. You’ll enjoy it.) but has a much more firm, aggressive taste by the end. I tend to not prefer Peats because a good Peat is pretty good and bad Peat is balls in your mouth bad. This is a compromise for me.

* Johnny Walker Blue Label. I want a bottle back. This was given to me as a gift a few years ago for something I did, and it is worth every penny if you like a light, sharp whiskey. It’s more floral and fruit than most, but trust me on this one. Of course, then someone drank all of mine without me noticing, and I wept until the moon turned black, and the seas boiled with blood.

My two cents here: there is snobbery, there is education, then there is taste. If you decide what you really like is a Glenfiddich 12 year, then screw anyone who tells you that you have bad taste. Share tails, swap stories, but trust your taste. There is no flunking scotch unless you drink too much of it, and even then there’s always the retest.

Bottoms up. Next time you’re in MD I can drag a bottle over.

@Morgan:

I keep hearing good things about the Oban. Gotta make with the tastey-taste. I

Never had the Johnny Blue, but most of my tastes of Johnny haven’t quite been right — a little too harsh.

This is all very exciting, though. And yeah, well-said on the snobbery/education/taste trifecta. Good is good. Like is like. No harm, no foul in any of that.

Me, I go to the liquor store and find some of the best wines under $10. Hell, I do as Alton Brown does — I buy wine for the bottle. And you know what? Most times, *nailed* it.

– c.

Blue is the exception to the rule. I normally don’t like the Walker boys either. Especially red. He’s so snippish.

Heh. Red’s like drinking angry goat urine. Mixed with battery acid.

– c.

@Patrick –

Y’know, I saw Booker’s tonight at dinner and wondered — “Wonder how that is?”

Maker’s has been my favorite, but to be fair, I’m not widely bourbon-trained.

Woodford Reserve, man, I’ve always been curious. You may have pushed me over the other side.

– c.

Cheers to your sir, another enjoyable and enlightening read! I am comforted to know that I am among good company. Like many “booze-hounds” I choose to not think too much about spirits. In my mind, to become too knowledgeable or to entertain a comprehensive analysis, my habit ceases to be a dysfunctional coping mechanism and starts to become a past-time. As I don’t have the time to take-on a new hobby, I will leave the reviews and analysis to the experts. But should you see me in the gutter in north Philadelphia grasping a bottle Boone’s Farm Green Apple Wine, please pick me up and direct me to an establishment for a proper Laphroaig “peaty” whiskey!

Right. So this is where I reveal that I am NOT a snob when it comes to alcohol (except for absinthe, see below) and also reveal just how fucking common I am when it comes to booze, and @filamena loses all respect for me. Weep! There is a drink named after me! It’s called the ShoeDoo. It’s vodka, apple pucker, and Mountain Dew.

So when it comes to Absinthe, which is my favourite in the whole wide world and oh my god I don’t even like it but I love it, it…yesyesyes. I don’t care if it’s that cheeky red stuff, I love it. Give me Czech ‘absinth’ and you will get a lecture and declare me pretentious, and you will be right.
Any OTHER stuff? I will drink fucking Phillips vodka, because I am a starving artist and it comes in a plastic bottle which means I can stuff it into my backpack and take it to the park. For a picnic. A vodka picnic. Vodka is my favourite booze, but anise is my favourite taste (and smell) so I will drink pernod, sambuca, jaeger, even fucking oozo which I LOVE mixed with Dr. Pepper. So why am I telling you all this? I’m not really sure. You said ‘To me!’ and though I am not a boozehound I came scampering forth. Også, I’ve been working on stop-motion all morning and I really needed a fucking break.

So. , do I’m not a boozehound, but I am a Mad Inventor, and here is the most popular drink I have ever invented, and the one I make at parties ()so you can make fun of me or whatever. It’s girly as shit: it’s called the Farrah Fawcette. You take Sprite (if you’re in the US you use Mexican Sprite, with SUGAR in it. None of that corn syrup abomination), and then you put in a few glugs of vodka, and then you make it into a float with a few scoops of Rainbow Sherbet. And then you have three more. And then you go running through water sprinklers.

Good times.

@AZD:

Hah, holy shit, of course — Amish! You’re in and around Philly, then?

Booyah, fellow Keystone killah.

– c.

@Shoe:

That sounds delicious — actually, both the ShoeDoo and the Farrah.

And both of those represent why I cannot drink sugary drinks — they are like CANDY. I will drink them until I vomit. And I will vomit rainbow sherbet. Which looks like I’m puking up the hopes and dreams of My Little Pony or some shit.

Ooof.

I will say: tonight, I had a Negroni, and it was wonderful.

– c.

I’m definitely not a connesuir of fine alcoholic beverages by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t drink often (having had an extremely unfortunate and painful incident in college that left me with a broken tailbone after a drunken night), but my drink of choice is rum (Myer’s Dark) & “Coke” (though it’s better with Red Rock Cola than actual Coca-Cola).

@Darren:

I find Rum and Cokes delicious, but I tend to avoid soda — I probably haven’t had a drink of soda in… maybe a year, I dunno?

– c.

Re: Japanese scotch. The is no such thing. The Japanese love their scotch, though so I do not doubt that someone there makes an excellent single malt whiskey. I’m sure it’s tasty, but it isn’t scotch.

In a similar vein, one of the better blended whiskeys I’ve had was one local to India I had while traveling there on business. So people all over the world like whiskey and do their best to make s good product.

I’ve even entertained the idea of starting a distillery here in Minnesota and to age its product on the shores of Lake Superior.

@chuck
Negroni: NUMM. Have never had more than a sip, but it was a delicious sip.

I think another drink I invented once was called a ‘Red Russian’ and involved Cinnamon Schnappes…it was intense.

The ShoeDoo IS delicious! I adore it. It was invented for me, since I was working tech for a play put on in that nightclub, and they’d ordered too much Apple Pucker. I tell you, I’v never had so much fun working tech.

I am now entirely commited to, if we ever hang out, make you sweet drinks until you vomit My Little Pony hearts. You have set in motion a terrible, hilarious chain of events, my friend.

Også:

@Paul: I tumbled your quote about the little man. It was so fucking brilliant.

@Pete: The way you talk about alcohol kinda gives me a wordgasm. Please keep doing it.

@Chuck: Sorry if I made a mess in your comments. Pete’s fault.

@Shoe: If you like the taste of anise, you would have loved the Finns I met at the 1995 Worldcon in Glasgow. They took anise candy, soaked it in water, fermented and distilled it and drank the resulting liquor, handing it out at parties they attended. Crazy fuckers in a fun way.

A final anecdote before turning in for the evening. At that fabled Worldcon in Glasgow in 1995 I volunteered in the green room. My primary task was minding the bar and dispensing drinks to the authors and other pros participating on panels. There was a good range of sodas and beers but, it being Scotland, there were also a number of single malts.

About the third day into the convention, I was minding the bar and some author came over and asked for a scotch and water.

I told him. “This is a glass of whiskey. This is a glass of water. If you want to take them across the room and pour one into the other, it’s on your head.”

He walked away with his two glasses, looking quite bemused.

My mother raised me not to drink unless I could afford the better stuff. Therefore, when money is tight there is no liquor in the house.

I buy Jim Beam for the sole purpose of mixing it with Coke. Jim Beam, to me, is not for sipping by itself. Maker’s Mark is that for me (I loves my bourbon). Laphroaig is my absolute favorite Scotch that has ever walked the planet, and the day I caught my husband pouring it over ice I wanted to slap his noodle off his shoulders. The thought of watering that down *shudder*

I’d like to point you toward two Irish Whiskeys. Tullamore Dew and Paddy. Tullamore Dew was finally made available in the US in I think 1995, and Paddy just crossed the ocean this year. I like Jameson’s, but those two are my favorites. They’re blended whiskeys, but there’s something about the sharpness of the flavor of Irish Whiskey that fills my nose with joy.

I will second the thumbs up on Tullamore Dew. Irish whiskey as it’s finest, in my not so informed opinion.
Actually, I’m hoping that one of the superbly educated posters here can help me out… I once had a taste of a whiskey at a Christmas party years ago that I fell in love with, but couldn’t remember, (obviously it was effective stuff as well), and I discovered that I am a huge fan of smoky whiskeys. This stuff WAS smoke in liquid form, with a wonderful burn to it. So can anyone recommend a truly smoky concoction for me?
By the way, I tried the Laphroaig. I decided that peaty isn’t to my tastes at all. To Gallatin’s taste buds, peaty = mulch. Which should only be ingested after one gets too drunk and passes out in a stranger’s flower bed.

For years, I thought I hated scotch. My father frequently tried to get me to drink it, and I would choke down a glass to be polite.

Then I went to Scotland. For fun, at the resort, I went to a scotch tasting event. I discovered that what I hate are lowland scotches. Much like you, I was introduced to smokey peaty goodness, and was sold.

I’m still experimenting with scotch. I don’t know what I like yet. I can say that Auchentoshan was probably some of the foulest stuff I’ve tasted, despite having an awesome name (especially 3/4 of the way through the tastings).

@Julie – Have you tried Laphroaig with just a single ice cube, or a bit of spring water? It is really stunning what it does to the flavor. Not necessarily better or worse. Much like sweet tea, it’s just a different drink. I like putting a single cube in the peaty scotches, and swirling as I go. Maybe that makes me a philistine, but it gives the whiskey a nice transformation as I drink it.

Also, a note for you, Chuck, in your state that is afraid of proper spirits. One of the few benefits to Diageo steadily buying up the distilleries is that you can often get some nice combo packs of small bottles. I doubt you have the option to have the intertubes deliver them, but especially look for them if you ever have the opportunity to buy duty-free.

After going to an international whisky festival I’ve realised I’ve become a boring whisky wanker, but still it all tastes so good. Try Ardbeg as it’ll burn your face off with peat. Alternatively, I bought a bottle of Small Batch Four Roses which is gorgeous. I only bring it out for the guests I like. The ones I hate get Grants, the third cheapest whisky from the offie up the road.
The second cheapest, Claymore, violated me. I drank most of a bottle at a friend’s engagement and woke up at home with bloodied knuckles and a scar on my leg which won’t go away. My friends claim I vanished at one point. A week later I had a similar experience after stolen housewarming Jack Daniels was out, Southern Comfort was gone and I was back on the Claymore, which lost me a day. Claymore, it hits like one.

Catching up post-Mehico. I had a VERY enlightening experience in a tequila distillery about the proper way to drink and order tequila. I plan to blog about it soon-ish, once I get the video downloaded and edited.

…there’s a video?!

I’m in!

– c.

I’m no master of whisky, but I’ve been trying to get there for a couple of years. No offence to the other Peter, but Scotch Whisky is a tricky monkey for me. I’ve had some that were life altering (Oban, the MacAllan 18 yr), and far too many that were, perhaps, too challenging for me to enjoy at the time.

I went on a wander through the Whiskies of the world, though. The Japanese single malts are, in my opinion, exactly the kind of thing a Japanese craftsman would make if he decided to make the best possible single malt in the world — smoky, peaty, complex and not quite getting what single-malts need to be great. The Canadian single malt, Glen Breton, is similarly too complex for its own good.

But there is much goodness out there when you look beyond the single malts. I whole-heartedly endorse the Woodford Reserve bourbon. It makes all other bourbons taste like strong water to me.

Up here in the land of the Mounty, the Canadian “rye” whiskies are really what I’m sinking my teeth into these days. The whiskies out of the Forty Creek distillery are exceptional, and I’d stand their Double Barrel Reserve up against almost anything. But all the ryes are good to me (except Canadian Club and Crown Royal which are about as exciting as jumping off the back porch with a parachute).

@Peter:

You just convinced me that I definitely need a bottle of Woodford Reserve.

For all paying attention, I now have procured:

Laphroaig 18 and Balvenie Doublewood.

– c.