We all have those things we want that are so special we don’t buy them for ourselves and are too expensive to ask someone else to buy them for us. A bottle of Midleton Barry Crockett was my little luxury that I made sure to taste at Whiskey Fest because chances were highly unlikely I would get a bottle of my own. It’s like a nice painting – we visit them in a museum because we won’t be coming home to Van Gogh’s sunflowers every evening. The whiskey is named for the second-generation master distiller of more than three decades at Midleton, which makes delightful Irish whiskey.
I was shocked to open my card from colleagues at work when I switched jobs within my organization to discover they had bought me a bottle. I wasn’t all that surprised they had gotten me whiskey (my joy of whiskey is no secret – I keep an ice bucket and set of glasses in my desk), but I hadn’t asked for it. And it was the exact bottle I would have asked for.
My coworker’s boyfriend had to order it through a bar he manages, since they couldn’t find a liquor store that sold it. It comes in its own wooden box with a little shelf that pulls out. I know – it’s a little gimmicky. But so pretty sitting in my living room. I come home to it every night, and it may as well be a painting since I mostly stare instead of drink. I’ve had a few glasses, of course – to taste and share with visitors. But I want to savor it.
It tastes like drinking autumn. It’s light, but complex, a tad sweet with hints of orange and vanilla. A little spicy and oaky. A nice, long finish. And then a smile
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