The Tale of Talisker Storm

On the 14th floor of Headquarters, Dale and Dean, two Diageo marketing associates, stand side by side urinating in the Men's room while sipping Smirnoff on the rocks.
         Dean says to Dale, "So we got the green light to bottle those six-year-old Talisker malt leftovers that Bell's, Buchanan's, and VAT 69 rejected."
         Dale responds, "Ah yes, the whole rejuvenated cask pitch.  Good work on that one."
         "Good work to you, sir, for convincing them to sell it for more than the 10 year old.  Unique, bold, vivacious in fact."
         "Like the whisky!"
         "Whatever you say, man."  They laugh, clinking their glasses, pissing into urinals chiseled from Rosebank distillery stone.
         Dale asks, "So what are we going to call this crap?"
         Dean says, "Well, it's spirit heavy and a little rough.  And it's from Scotland.  Their weather's shit and they're proud of it.  We can name it after something stormy."
         Dale puts his drink down and taps the urinal-mounted touchscreen.  He goes to Google.com.  Starts a search.  "Okay, something stormy.  Something stormy.  Bowmore has their Tempest.  Cutty Sark has their Storm...  That's it!  Talisker Storm!"
         The urinals flush in unison, gallons of the River Tay gushing down into the sewer.
         "Brilliant!  I'll drop them an email with the name.  This should make all the whiny discerning whisky geeks happy now that they're getting another Talisker single malt."
         Dean and Dale stride towards the bathroom door.
         "Eh, fuck 'em.  They've never been our target audience anyway."
         Dean's iPhone dings.  "Ah. Gotta go. They're installing marble flooring in the shitter at our Brora condo."
         They exit the bathroom without washing their hands.

So, I bought a bottle...

Warning: This post may be a bunch of diary-style navel-gazing.  Or at least more so than usual.

I bought my first whisky bottle in five weeks.  The purchase didn't come easy.  Thirty-four days ago, I'd posted a little bit about my internal struggle with amassing whisky, so I wasn't going to break the fast easily.  I continued window shopping, but I always asked myself "Why?" each time a bottle drew me in.  Nothing stood up to that challenge until this past weekend.

There's been only one Lowland whisky I've actually enjoyed, and mostly because it was anything but a "Lowland Lady".  It was a weird earthy clay-grass-and-white-pepper malt bottled at cask strength by one of my favorite independent bottlers, priced far below anything else of its type.

So, I pestered six different employees at two stores about it.  Why did I pester?  One of the stores had an incorrect listing that was actually selling an older bottling at the same price.  Same distillery, same bottler, but a different cask type, different age, different year, different ABV.  A few months ago, I would have exclaimed, "Woo hoo!  I'll take both!"

But not now.  Despite having a chance at a great deal, I knew nothing about the older bottling.  Never tasted it.  No reviews of it to be found.  It wasn't the bottle I actually wanted.  Again, I'd tasted the one I was looking for and I liked it.  I was willing, for the first time in memory, to turn down a better bargain for a potentially decent whisky.  So, I did.  I turned it down.  And I called and travelled around, questioned and questioned and questioned employees (who are at the mercy of distributors) until I found my whisky.

I returned home with one bottle rather than two.  To me this is a victory.

During this very journey I also came upon three additional exceptionally priced whiskies.  Each are on my Someday list.  Previously, I would have returned home with those three in hand as well.  But they remain on the Someday list, not the Today list.  Today I'll have some great whisky to drink, and the whisky is already in my possession.

There's much less desperation for accumulation.  Though there are other purchases I'm considering, I no longer feel a rush to do them immediately.  And if I miss out on a limited or disappearing bottling, then so be it.  Hopefully a good whisky lover gets it, opens it and drinks it and enjoys it.

Do I believe that last paragraph?  Today, yes.  Tomorrow, I don't know.

NOT Single Malt Report: High West Rendezvous Rye

You can count me as one more fan of David Perkins and the High West Distillery team.  They keep cranking out creative (and tasty!) whiskey products -- pulled together from juice they've bought from other distilleries -- as they await the results of their own very young Utah whiskey, currently slumbering in new American oak.  Here are some of their releases:

Bourye -- a mix of 10yr Four Roses bourbon, 12yr LDI rye (95% rye mashbill), and 16yr Barton Distillery rye.  This sold like, well, whiskey.  So now it's gone, but was soon replaced with...
Son of Bourye -- 5yr Four Roses bourbon and 3yr LDI rye (95% rye mashbill)
Campfire -- Four Roses bourbon + LDI rye (95% rye mashbill) + a peated Scottish blended malt
American Prairie Reserve -- 10yr Four Roses bourbon + 6yr LDI bourbon
Double Rye -- 16yr (53% mashbill) Barton Distillery rye + 2yr (95% mashbill) LDI rye.
And...

Product: Rendezvous Rye
Distillery: Barton/Tom Moore and LDI distilleries

Producer: High West
Type: Straight Rye Whisky
Region: Utah (High West), Indiana (LDI), Barton (Kentucky)

Age / Mashbill: 16 years, 80% rye 10% corn 10% malted barley (Barton) + 6 years, 95% rye 5% malted barley (LDI)

Maturation: charred white oak barrels

Alcohol by Volume: 46%
(many thanks to LA Whisk(e)y Society for the distillery and mashbill data)

How can one not love these combos?!  I'm pretty much a whisk(e)y purist, but these blends are crazy and brilliant.  Any great chef or bartender will divulge that one of the keys to a great dish or cocktail is the use of the highest quality ingredients.  High West has taken that to heart.  I'm coo-coo for LDI rye (if you haven't gathered that yet), thus David Perkins has my full attention.

I had my eye on Rendezvous first.  About to pull the trigger on it, I asked K&L's David Driscoll: "What rye would you recommend to a Willett fan?"  Without a pause, he replied, "High West's Rendezvous."  So I bought it and now it's almost gone.  But before my bottle goes empty, I must do an official tasting:

NEAT:
The color is all maple syrup.  The nose holds lots of good oak elements, especially vanillins, leather, and a bundle of tropical fruit.  There's also a strong note of pencil shavings that I've found in toasted French oak-matured whisky.  Something savory in there too...can we smell "savory"?  Finally, there's a big wallop of rye seeds.  Those rye seeds hang around in the palate, joined by cinnamon, hay, and a marshmallowy sweetness.  The LDI rye zing is present but restrained by the older Barton whiskey.  A hint of black cherry.  More than a hint of black pepper.  Here comes the spice kick in the very lengthy finish.  Candied vanilla pods meet caramel corn, along with a distant vegetal note from the spirit.

Adding water makes it creamier, and brings out some bubblegum and fresh cherry notes.  The palate is softer but still finishes strong.

Even The Wife enjoys this one.  But then again, she seems to be smitten with LDI rye too.

This is politer than the barrel-strength Willetts, but still a muscular whiskey.  I recommend this to folks who like high rye mashbills and also to those of us who'd like to experience a little older rye without handing out the $200+ which will undoubtedly be the pricing on 16-year ryes in the near future.  For you cocktail fans, this makes for a brisk lively Sazerac, though it works best all alone in the glass.

Now, what High West shall I buy next......?

Availability - Many liquor specialists

Pricing - $48-$55

Rating - 88

NOT Single Malt Report: Jefferson's 10 year old Straight Rye

I love rye.  It's now one of my Big Three:  Irish Single Pot Still Whiskey, Single Malt Scotch Whisky, and Straight Rye Whiskey.  Rye's bold spicy wallop wins me over every single time.  If it can get me to say "Wow!" after a sip -- as Willett has done time after time (but we'll save the Willett slobbering for previous and future reports) -- then I'm enticed to track down a full bottle.

As Jefferson's 10yr Rye has the rare 100% rye mashbill, I so desired to just buy a whole bottle blindly (though I didn't).  It was one of those whiskies that I wanted to love.  Recent Eats, Coopered Tot, Chemistry of the Cocktail, and Scotch & Ice Cream all liked it.  That's plenty good enough for me.

Distillery: possibly Alberta Springs Distillery
Ownership: McClain & Kyne (via Castle Brands)
Type: Canadian Straight Rye Whisky
Region: Alberta, Canada (possibly)

Age: minimum 10 years
Mashbill: 100% rye (along with a proprietary fungus that helps keep the mash from getting sticky)

Maturation: charred white oak barrels

Alcohol by Volume: 47%

[As you'll note above, this is actually Canadian Rye, bottled by McClain & Kyne, an American company.  Curiously, the company refers to the juice as "North American" rather than Canadian.  Come on guys, Canada is cool too!]

There's a little more background to this report.  In the comments section of the Recent Eats and Chemistry of the Cocktail posts about Jefferson's, I noticed that Florin (of whom I am a fan) felt quite differently about the rye.  When I had a chance to meet Florin a few months back, he shared some of his Jefferson's with me.  And I immediately found the issue.

It smelled and tasted like nail polish remover, as if the spirit hadn't aged a day, let alone 10 years, in new oak.  It was very odd.  When we did some whisky trading, I still opted for a sample of it.  Further studies were required.

Three months later (about seven total months in the sample bottle) the rye was released into my Glencairn glass.  The acetone/polish/vinyl note sprung forth immediately.  So I decided to let it sit and sit and sit...

Forty-five minutes later:

The color was of a rosy maple syrup.  The nail polish remover (or distillate, to be polite) had vanished from the nose.  It was now much oakier.  Tons of vanilla.  Puffs of peppermint and menthol, followed by molasses and cooked mushrooms.  The texture was very thin, watery.  The palate was less spirity than before.  Lots of dark chocolate and cherry kirsch.  Something very vegetal rumbled along, perhaps this is the herbal note others have found?  Burnt sugar, cherry cordials, and a hint of citrus.  Any spicy rye zing was at a minimum.  The kirsch continued in the finish, but then there was a consistent salad note.  Seriously, salad.  Think lettuces and bitter greens.  That was met by caramel sauce and dulce di leche.  More bitterness followed with time.

So, time helped.  To a point.  I'm going to assume/hope there was some significant batch variation going on here as the characteristics seem to be from a completely different booze than what I've read about on other blogs.  Or maybe this shade of rye is not for me?  I can see its appeal.  I'd take this over Old Overholt and Jim Beam Rye any day.  And its price is right, at half the $$$ of WhistlePig, another 10-year 100% Canadian rye (and perhaps from the same source).

In the next report, I'll cover a whiskey that I had side-by-side with Jefferson's just to make sure my rye sensors were working...

Availability - Most liquor specialists

Pricing - $35-$40

Rating - 78 (without the 45 min wait, the rating would have been much lower)

Escape From LA, February 2013, recapped

I'm aware that hearing about someone else's Vegas experience holds limited entertainment value for the audience, so I'll try to be brief and entertaining.

Friday -- I drove directly from work to Las Vegas.  Arrived at MGM @ 11:30.  My brother, Jason, and I are so old and tired that we promptly fell asleep.  No gambling.  No drinking.

Saturday -- Gambling.  Drinking.

Oddly, I awoke at 7:20am.  Who wakes up in Vegas at 7:20?  We got out to the lackluster Excalibur buffet by 8:30.  Breakfast done by 9:30.  So early!  What to do?  Gamble, the tables are cheap in the morning.

At the video poker machine, I went from $100 to $5 in 10 minutes, then on what looked to be my final hand, I hit full house, then straight, then full house.  I decided to part from the machine at that point.  Joined Jason at the craps table where we fared well.  We departed up.

We hit the road, putting some distance between us and The Strip.  I fared well, again, at the video poker machines at The Palms.  Jason and I went to The Mob Museum downtown -- their media production was great -- then later headed to Nora's: good Italian food, great whisky prices.

From there we went back to the hotel and opened a bottle of Johnnie Walker Gold Label (more on that some time down the road).  Then we went to Craftsteak, THE BEST whisky selection on The Strip.

Then I stumbled over to a video poker machine and won $250 on a $5 bet.

Okay, I'm not really kissing the machine.  It would be healthier to lick a gas station urinal rim than kiss a Vegas touchscreen.  Anyway, the kiss is close enough.  The machine deserved it.  I was now up $372 on the first day.  Success.

Sunday -- Less drinking.  No gambling.

That's right, I left with my winnings intact.  I hit the gym, then walked about 7 miles up and down The Strip.  I was witness to a particularly curious scene, documented here.  Grabbed some good pizza from New York New York.  Hit Mon Ami Gabi at Paris for dinner.  We wandered the Forum shops, but didn't buy anything because I'm cheap.

Monday -- I awoke at 5am and drove directly to work, arriving 10 minutes early.  This is not recommended.  Three days later, the sleep deprivation is still whuppin' me.  I'm surprised I made it this far into the post.  I'm surprised you made it this far into the post.

---

Whisky thoughts:
Vegas is a great place for whisky drinkin'.  The prices are rarely cheap, but the selection is grand...

...MGM Grand in fact.  That casino alone has a number of great whisky stops.  There's a random bar (I think it's this one) near the hotel elevators that has the old version of Springbank 21yr.  Wolfgang Puck has a bar there with several shelves of high quality stuff, including some Japanese selections.  Then there's Craftsteak.  The prices can be steep, but the pours are 2oz.  The choices are many many many, including a number of indies.  I had a cask strength Bunnahabhain 17yr 1988 Malt Trust.  It was dark as cherry cola and was VERY SHERRY.  There were plans to return on Sunday night to spend some of my winnings, but bedtime was very early.  I shall return.  If you have a chance to visit Craftsteak, Larry at the bar is a great guy who loves to discuss all things booze.

The Palms has a bourbon bar in the middle of the casino.  They appear to have almost everything.  Like Craftsteak, they have Pappies 15, 20, and 23, if you're Van Winkle hunting.

And, as always, I have to give The Whisky Attic its proper due.  (My 2012 posts about it are here.)  Professor Carmer is brilliant and his whisky selection is terrific!  I shall return there on my next Vegas trip.

Time to start planning my next Vegas trip.  How about it, Jason?

In the can: A Vegas Story

A man stands at the corner of Las Vegas Boulevard South and East Flamingo Road, calling out to passers by.
       "Save the Ta-Tas!"
       His graying pile of sandy blonde hair began its climb over his ears years ago.  An aqua blue windbreaker, zipped up to his chin, keeps out the increasingly brisk overcast desert winter afternoon.
       "Save the Ta-Tas!"
       To his right, his wheeled plexiglass-encased cart displays a half dozen identical white plastic signs with black lettering reading:
       "Save the Ta-Tas!"
       Most of the passersby disregard his barking.  Many of them have just maneuvered around the forty to fifty bundled-up short men shoving glossy nude escort card-sized adverts in every direction.  But the huckster has something of additional substance to offer the crowd.
       "Ladies and Gentleman!"
       He holds his arms up, cradling something gingerly in each hand.  He winds his right arm up like a hurler, then flings the unseen object onto his cart's flat transparent tabletop.
       WAP!  It splats down, a flesh colored puddle.
       WAP!  He slams the second one onto the table.
       The puddles begin to move.  Part of the crowd stops to watch.
       Slowly sucking themselves up from the table, the rosy peach blobs rise, each unhurriedly forming a shape.  Gradually they stand up, jiggling, getting rounder, growing...
       ...until there, on top of his cart, stand two golf-ball sized wiggling rubber breasts, complete with red areolas and pointed nipples.
       The man stands beside his cart, proudly gesturing with an open hand, "Want to help save the ta-tas?  Get yourself a pair of these itty-bitty titties."
       Some of the audience remains in place, staring at the tiny wobbling breasts.  But most of the watchers continue on, passing the closed-for-renovation signs for Bill's Gambling Hall & Saloon.
       A voice calls out from the parting crowd, "Excuse me!"
       Digging her way through the crush of bodies, a determined silver-curly-haired woman in a light green jacket rushes towards the cart.
       Approaching the shimmying mams, she asks in a sharp Russian accent:
       "Excuse me, you have the canned puzzi?"
       Hurried gamblers and tipsy shoppers squeeze around her.
       The man replies, "Huh?"
       "You know.  The puzzi.  In the can."
       "Um, n......no. Ma'am, all of my proceeds go to breast cancer research."
       "Oh," she says.  Her shoulders sink and she slouches away to the nearby escalator.
       The continuing stream of tourists pushes on.  The traffic lights change.  A dozen motorcycles thunder by.  Scooping his two little products off the cart, the man in the aqua blue windbreaker begins his sales pitch again.
       "Ladies and Gentleman!"

Happy Friday! Quick ramblings and an escape...

Last night David Driscoll wrote a lovely piece on the romance of big brands.  The flu may have knocked Driscoll stone sober, but it's given him time and clarity to muse deeply.  Here's a link.

Mr. Feldman is back to posting on Coopered Tot.  Always a good thing.

Oliver Klimek of Dramming.com fame has a new blog: Culinary Atrocities.  It's delicious.

And then there's...

ESCAPE FROM LA - FEBRUARY 2013 edition

(Source)

I am (desperately) escaping LA for Vegas this weekend.  My brother, Jason, is flying out from the East Coast and I'm driving in, directly from work.  We were there last year around this time for his birthday.  All sorts of amazing stuff happened.  This time, I will be satisfied with just drinking and gambling.  You can do those things in Las Vegas, right?