A few years ago, when I was still in midst of the financial downturn, I discovered the only alcohol that kept me from having a massive hangover (after numerous… no, incalculable number of shots) was whiskey: Johnnie Walker Black, to be exact.
Fast forward to last year. As I was sitting at a whiskey bar with my good doctor friend, I recounted to him how I loved the “woody” and “smoky” flavors in Woodford Reserve, a premium bourbon from Woodford County, Kentucky.
He laughed and told me I hadn’t really tasted “smoky” until I tried Ardbeg 10-year-old, a single-malt scotch whisky from Islay, Scotland. He then handed me a tasting glass and watched my expression as I sniffed the scotch and took a sip.
He was right. It was nothing I had ever encountered. My taste buds jumped from its resting place. My tongue curled in shock. And my nostrils flared. When I opened my mouth to exhale, a cloud of smoke exited. In one taste, I had been turned into a living breathing dragon, albeit a classy one.
After that, I realized there was more to whiskey than just Johnnie, Jameson and Jack shots.
A few months later, Whiskey Me Up was born.
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Signing out now. In the meantime, keep it whisk(e)y!
Scotch Rose
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