Whiskey for my many moods
If you’re a regular follower, you may have noticed I’ve been on a bit of a bourbon kick. I used to be all Scotch all the time, and also went through a recent phase during which I honestly couldn’t understand why anyone ever drank anything other than rye. But lately, it has been all about bourbon.
Hot and sweet, bourbon tastes pretty. It tastes like home, and like the holidays, with most bourbons giving you a good dose of such sweet notes as toffee, caramel, and vanilla.
So why bourbon right now?
Well, it’s winter. The days have been getting shorter, and even though they’re supposedly getting longer now, they’re still damn short. And it’s cold out. Like, really, really cold. This kind of weather makes me want to hibernate and be cozy. That particular burn that comes only from bourbon warms me up and makes me want to burrow under a blanket in front of a fire. And the sweetness and spices lend comfort and evoke cookies and pies baking in the oven.
When I feel cozy and mellow, I drink bourbon.
Classic example of a cozy bourbon: Col. E.H. Taylor, single barrel. Buttery, syrupy caramel, and a beautiful but not overpowering warm burn.
Scotch, on the other hand, doesn’t taste pretty. It can, I suppose. Particularly some of the double-aged Scotches, ones that have spent time in port, rum, or Madeira barrels. But even in those, underneath the sweet accents, I can taste the smoke and the earth.
My taste in Scotch has changed somewhat over the years, but I always gravitate back to a nice dirty-tasting Islay. No messing around with subtle hints. I want big flavors that demand attention.
In good Scotch, I can taste the planet and the elements that make it up. The earth, the sea, fire, and air. By taking those in, I take on those strengths. The earth makes me strong. The sea makes me passionate. The fire drives me. And the air gives me focus.
When I feel powerful and intense, I drink Scotch.
Classic example of a powerful Scotch: Lagavulin 16. Heavy peat and smoke, with seaweed and oak, and just enough sweetness to provide balance.
Rye has none of the fire of bourbon, and none of the intensity of Scotch. It is lighter, almost floral and gin-like sometimes, but with the complexity and finish of a whiskey.
The experience of drinking rye is smooth and easy. Grassy and botanical, it evokes the sun on my face and a breeze in my hair. Rye makes me want to kick my shoes off to feel the grass under my feet. It makes me want to roll down a hill laughing, or ride along the coast with the top down.
When I feel playful and fun, I drink rye.
Classic example of a playful rye: Bulleit Rye. Maybe my taste in rye is immature, but I’ve tried plenty of high-end ryes, and it’s hard to beat good old Bulleit rye. I prefer it over ryes I have tried that were three times the price. It’s fresh and light with herbs and florals, and the perfect amount of sweetness.
You may notice the glaring lack of Irish whiskey on this list. Truth is, I like Irish whiskey, but unless I’m pouring it into coffee, it isn’t the first thing I go for. Not because of the taste. I think it’s actually because of this mood thing. I haven’t discovered my Irish whiskey mood.
Irish whiskey drinkers, I’m very curious what it is about it that draws you in and brings you back. What is the right mood for Irish whiskey?
Don’t say drunk. Well, OK, you can say drunk.
When Pam isn’t living some imaginary fabulous whiskey lifestyle, she can be found hanging at home in her PJs with her husband and school-aged twins, or driving her glamorous minivan shuttling the kids to dance and gymnastics. She also writes a blog focusing on self-love, body acceptance, and being a mom at Pam-a-rama ding dong. With the more lucrative half of her brain, she works as a statistician and scientific writer. Follow her on Facebook (facebook.com/whiskeypam) and Twitter (@pamdesmond)!