It's with a trembling hand that I take finger to keyboard today. Yes a shaking hand I tell you. The reason for the shake is not due to anything untoward. It is due, instead, to a decision which I took recently. I decided that for this instalment I would write about what a kinder person would refer to as "whiskey". Not whiskey with an "e" — or even without an "e." Not that strange Indian whiskey or that other Japanese approximation of Scotch. No, this time, I'm going to challenge decency. I'm going to put my mouth to the puckered cheeks and see what nature will make of it. Yes, I'm going to be making reference to a drink that… dagnabbit… a drink that is made on the North American continent, a dram that has fuelled the image of the red-faced, banjo-slinging rube of yore. This is a whiskey that has produced more red noses than a barrel of tits in ketchup; a whiskey that has made some of the greatest names of country music pour the contents of their stomachs over many a curb after having soiled their well-pressed slacks. Yes, the choice of poison this week is Bourbon, specifically Wild Turkey, 8 year old.

So, first things first, what is bourbon? Bourbon is named after Bourbon County, Kentucky. It seems that about 150 years ago when the whiskey made in this region was being prepared for transport, the words "Old Bourbon" were stencilled on each barrel. By this stage, this was the appellation by which the area had become known. As such, the name Bourbon became inseparable from the, eh, beverage that the barrels contained. As for the liquor itself, Bourbon is made using a minimum of 51% corn — most distillers use something in the area of 65–75% corn — something which changes the flavour markedly from Irish and Scottish whiskeys which are made from barley  (malted or unmalted¹). The remainder of the grain is made up of either wheat or rye. In addition, Bourbon is distilled to no more than 160 proof (about 80% alc.), and can be no more than 125 proof (about 63% alc.) when bottled. It's aged in new oak barrels the insides of which have been charred so as to caramelise the sap in the wood and add sweetness to the flavour of the drink. It is usually matured in these barrels for two years but the stuff we're discussing today is of course and 8 year old variety².  

So, alright then, I've started by being a bit … dismissive of this American stuff. Perhaps, overly so. After all, it has a Turkey on the label. And it is expensive… in these Irish parts anyway. Likewise, as has already been established in previous submissions by the author, Celtic whiskies benefit from the second-hand oak barrels that are discarded after use – another plus point for Bourbon. But then, these things in and of themselves do not a great whiskey make. No, there's more to a good whiskey. Much more to a great one. This bourbon, at 50.5% is not a great whiskey. Whether it's a good whiskey, or more accurately a good bourbon, though, is another story, possibly even another article. As bourbon goes, it's not as rough on the palette as one might expect. Despite its high alcohol content, both the robustness of its overall flavour and the molasses effect from all that fresh oak, mean that it doesn't differ that much from the standard 4 year old Turkey in terms of flavours. It is however surprisingly smooth in spite of the alcohol content.

Where it does differ from the 4 year old, is in the overall taste which is a bit better developed than its younger sibling. The extra alcohol gives it a more refined flavour, and all in all it just tastes a bit rounder, What do I mean by round? I mean that the flavours keep your mouth pleasantly busy for longer. A lighter whiskey, for example can often lack flavour due to less time in the barrel, or the use of cheaper, mass-production techniques. The flavours can dissipate quickly and leave an unpleasant alcohol fuzziness on the tongue. Likewise, a whiskey can also have one or two dominant flavours, such as when it is too oaky or too peaty. This effect often prevents any subtle aftertastes from coming through. In the case of bourbon the most obvious example of this would be the sometimes acridly sweet flavour from the fresh oak barrels in which the liquor is housed. In general, dominant flavours need to be reigned in as, on their own, they tend not to make for a lasting good flavour. The 4 year old is fine but it does have some of the bitterness of a drink that has not had the edges knocked off of it. The 8 year old seems to have lost those edges.