There aren’t many perks available to the freelance
writer. Sure, you get to hone your supplicatory skills when editors take seven
months to cut your check. And, similarly, way too many publications operate
under the sad and foolish notion that their offer to print your words on paper
is all the payment you could possibly require. And, of course, you get to field
emails from every colander-headed fuckwit with access to a Gmail account. But
really good stuff, shiny stuff, is as
rare as genetics majors at Liberty University.
That being said (and the whining is over for now…probably)
I am, every so often, on the receiving end of manna from Booze Heaven. Since I
write mostly about alcohol, you see, producers of that delicious nectar
occasionally send me sample of their product in order to collect my opinion of
same.
So, in case you are on the lookout for something yummy to
pour into your tummies, here are some thoughts.
Whistle Pig Straight Rye Whiskey
Rye is one of my very favorite tipples. Sipped straight,
over ice, with a splash of water, or as the base component for such classic
cocktails as the Manhattan and the old fashioned, rye is a vital part of any
well-stocked liquor cabinet. It has fallen out of vogue in the last thirty-or-so
years, sadly, and is due a comeback. Thankfully, the good people at the Whistle
Pig Distillery in Shoreham, VT, are on the scene to aid in that revival.
My oh my, but this is good stuff. Distilled from clean
New England water, and the process overseen by master distiller Dave Pickerell
(formerly of Maker’s Mark), Whistle Pig fits the bill for every one of my
above-stated uses for rye whiskey. On its label you will see “100/100,” which
means the goodness inside is 100% rye and 100 proof.
Enjoy it neat, or mix up a fine batch of old fashioneds.
Either way, you’ll be satisfied.
Tequila Distinguido
Sometime around 1840, a fella called Don José Trinidad
Contreras founded the Mexican town of Valle de Mazamitla (today known as Valle
de Juárez), and immediately began distilling tequila. Because his tequila was
of the highest quality, the distillery grew like wildfire water, and is still with
us today, owned and managed by descendants of the Contreras family.
Available in Silver, Reposado and Añjeo (generally
speaking, Good, Better and Best), Distinguido is one of the few tequilas I have
ever tried that is truly sippable. Which is not to say it won’t improve a
pitcher of margaritas, or add a few more rays to a tequila sunrise—it will do
both, with gusto. But before you start sullying it with OJ or splashing it into
a blender, first dribble a couple of fingers (of the Añjeo, naturally) into a
rocks glass, find a comfy seat, and then sit back and just take it in. Swirl
it, smell it, sip it. That feeling on your tongue? It’s 150 years of Mexican
ingenuity and art.
Give it some props.
Innis & Gunn Irish Whiskey Cask
This delectable Scottish Stout has a flavor unlike any I
have ever tasted. Aged in oak barrels that have previously been used to age a
fine, triple-distilled Irish whiskey (or whisky, and shut up about it…), it
lands on your palate in a decidedly non-barley-pop sort of way. It hits, in
fact, if only for a moment, like a fine, triple-distilled Irish whiskey—your taste
buds curl up and giggle in the same way, and your uvula dances the Lochaber
Broadsword.
And if all that wasn’t enough, this limited edition beer,
with its 7.9% ABV, packs a splendid alcoholic wallop. So, don’t pound it
(unless, for reasons unknown, you’re after some kind of fucked-up fraternity
flashback). No, just pour it off into a chilled mug, and enjoy.
Perfectly lip-smacking, and that’s a fact.
Newcastle Summer Ale
Newcastle has been one of my brews of choice for over 20
years. Until recently, they have avoided entering into the mostly tedious
seasonal market, but I’m glad they did. While it’s not as exceptional as their traditional
red ale, this summer version is quite tasty.
A tad lighter than the red, and slightly hoppier, the
Summer Ale is perfect for backyard shindigs, or as a restorative after an
afternoon’s car washing or lawn mowing. It easily surpasses most American
microbrews, and treats conglomerate beers in much the same way Joe Pesci
treated people in Goodfellas.
Pink Pigeon Rum
And, at last, we come to Pink Pigeon Rum. Flying in the
face of the Cuba Libre crowd, my favorite way to take rum is unblemished but
for an ice cube or two. For years I’ve been a Sailor Jerry fan, but no longer, fellow
drunkards, no longer.
Assembled from organic sugarcane on the hypnotic tropical
island of Mauritius in the Indian Ocean, and flavored with a secret assemblage
of spices—among them nutmeg, and vanilla from Moroccan orchids—Pink Pigeon
stands above all other spiced rums, in much the same way Andre the Giant might stand
over Verne Troyer.
It alights on your tongue and puts down its spicy roots,
as at least five separate flavors go on a walkabout to the back of your throat,
where, when you swallow, a burn sweeter than a Beiderbecke solo slaloms downward,
into your stomach, and suffuses your belly with a warmth of such potent
contentment it would cause Bacchus to grin in the moonlight.
But please—oh, please—don’t
ruin this astonishing libation with some foul soft drink or fetid daiquiri
fruit. Just decant a few ounces into a glass (I suggest crystal, as it is
worthy) and introduce your senses to alcoholic ecstasy.
Last Call
And, so, there you have it, friends. A few ideas that will
set fire to your next get-together, your next special event, your next Monday
afternoon.
Drink well.
Cheers.
