|
Written by Edward Burke
|
|
Page 2 of 2
So is it a good Bourbon? I don't know. I'm still trying to work it out, trying to taste what it tastes like. And it's not easy. You see, I'm trying to fight against that roundness. Because, if you think about it, even shit can taste "round". Round just means that in the context of a particular flavour paradigm, certain prerequisites are fulfilled by one item rather than by another. The person tasting the shit, therefore, has a more complete and, well, for the sake of argument, satisfying experience. And so too Bourbon. As I type I'm looking back over page after page of "reviews" of this whiskey. And the problem with which I'm confronted is two-fold: firstly, most of them are rubbish and are written not so much by whiskey enthusiasts as by out and out dipsos who will guzzle any swill — or more likely will palm off any swill to gullible customers. The second fold of the problem is that when I look at their adjectives (no really, it's not a euphemism. I really mean, their adjectives…) I'm not even sure I'm writing about the same drink. Even the seemingly widely respected Whisky Mag (well I mean, after all, anyone who uses the Scotch spelling in anything other than a humorous anecdote deserves whatever they get…) has it down as tasting like "blackberry, prune, wild honey" and, wait for it, "leather."
What I tasted did not taste like leather, except for when I was trying to drink it through my belt. That was later on in the evening. It did have a strong, sweet flavour. However, this was less like wild honey and more like a mixture of molasses and Calpol. In a good way, though.
Well, then, I hear you asking, what is the conclusion? Eh? How was the shit? Well, I suppose I'd have to say something like: if you're walking down the street and you've had a few drinks and you pass this burger joint, not any of your international chains mind, just a regular burger joint, and you think, To heck with it, I'm starving and you go in and you have the burger. And part of you thinks, burgers, though slightly vulgar, lack the pomposity of more cosmopolitan forms of food. But, darn it, they do have an honesty which makes them a noble food, every grease-soaked ounce of them! This bourbon is slightly in that vein: it is a satisfying and strong drink, which tastes dark and sweet and boozy. The fact that it is aged for 8 years is a casual touch of elegance to an otherwise rootin', tootin' mouthful of hooch — it's like a burger with, say, blue cheese.
Wild Turkey is made by a company called Austin Nichols. Austin Nichols, in turn, is owned by Pernod Ricard. Knowing this does take away some of the folksy charm of the "8 Year Old" bit of the label. But when you get down to it, it's still a bourbon, and maybe, just maybe, one of the nicer bourbons around.
1 In a whiskey context, malting is when the barley from which the mash is to be made is allowed to sprout and then "quickly dried before the plant develops", http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malt
2 See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bourbon_whiskey, and http://www.straightbourbon.com/whatisbourbon.html for more details on this.
<< Start < Prev 1 2 Next > End >>
|
|
|
Welcome to the Slow Review, the home of perspectives on the unpromoted life. We filter the hype and trash so you don't have to. A quality review of film, music, books, art & living, with nothing under six months old. Without the rush and guff.
The ManifestoSlow is more! Write for SlowGot an idea for an article? Read our guide and submit it! New writers welcome. Contact
|
