The Sun being well over the yard arm on this Sunday afternoon, I find nothing twixt me and my liquor closet. Off to my left I see five mounted cowboys, off to my left ride a dozen or more........... but wait, I'm supposed to be in Tennessee, not El Paso, TX.
So, y'all and all, it is George Dickel (103 proof Small Batch Hand Selected Barrel Whisky, aged 9 Years), over agin Jack Daniel's (Single Barrel Barrel Proof at 131.2 proof lowered to about the same proof as the Dickel). To me, the Dickel has misused its time in the barrel somewhat. This is a dry whisky (if they wants to spell whiskey that way, its alright by me). There is an off taste in this expression of Dickel (I confess to disliking this whiskey before this current tasting, hence it is an almost full bottle) that the 12 does not have and I do not care for it at all. I will leave it, an almost full bottle, sitting just outside my door for you if you want it. To my palate it is that bad.
On t'other hand, I think the JD is a better whiskey than the premium Dickel, but, for reasons unclear to me, I find it to be, at about the same proof as the regular Single Barrel, a bit less appealing.......... not as subtle. Both these bourbons sell in the $50+- range. To borrow from an old Southern expression in regard to getting a lot of pleasure from something, both of these fellows failed to crank my tractor.
Sooo, almost in desperation, I reached for a nip of Wild Turkey Barrel Proof Russell's Reserve. This, as much to prove that my palate, after a lengthy cold, was even able to cause any stir in the taste buds. Alas, I am yet somewhat disabled. The WT was gooder than either of the others, but even it did not bring my taster to full alert, so I must be satisfied with, not the taste of whiskey, but its effects.
Out in the West Texas town of El Paso, I fell in love with a Mexican girl. Night time would find me in Rosa's Cantina, music would play and Felina would whirl. As I watch Felina whirl and the handsome young cowboy begin to bird dog her, I realize that other measures (in regard to the whiskey) are called for. Knowing that my palate is limping, I wonder what might suit it in its distress.
Sooo, I pull out probably my most unique bourbon (not necessarily the best, even assuming such as thing as a best bourbon were to exist.......... which, by the way, it doesn't). I reach, pardners, for the Wild Turkey Master's Collection 17 YO Barrel Proof (at 86 proof), because I probably ain't got nothing better to do with it, or with my own self.
Dashing and daring, a drink he (the handsome young stranger) was sharing with wicked Felina, the girl that I loved. So in anger I challenged his right for the love of this maiden, down went his hand for the gun that he wore. In less than a heartbeat, his challenge was answered, the handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. - Dylan Thomas