
...so far.
My beverage for the evening is Macallan Cask Strength Single Malt Whiskey. It's youngish and 58.2% alcohol by volume.
It's a challenging drink. Mostly because there's a lot of burn if you don't treat the scotch right. This is one of the few scotches that actually holds up pretty well to ice cubes. The water from the melting helps to balance the aromatics and the flavors without watering down the taste - which is generally my quibble with putting ice in the scotches I usually drink. Hence, I tend to take my whiskey neat or with the barest splash of water. You can't really do that with this one. Well, you can but you won't really enjoy it because your eyes will water everytime you bring it to your face.
Mr. Scoop has decided that, out of all the scotch that I've brought home, he does not like this one. He usually finds something to like about my scotches, despite being a Jack Daniels man by nature.
It's in his best interest as he never knows when he'll need to MacGuyver up a buzz on the fly.
He was offput by the alcohol in the nose and the overall sweet character of the flavor. It is very honeyed and there is a trace of sherry leftover from the time in the cask. I liked it. He didn't.
Well, we can't like all.. the same things. That'd be creepy.
My exit plan, should odd hallucinations or general whiskey related belligerence start, is to switch to cider. I've got 2 litres of Strongbow on standby. It was always there for me in (a bunch of) college. Cider won't fuck me over like that bitch, Southern Comfort. To this day, I'm surprised I can sit down to pee.
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