 I had a feast of whiskies tonight, a lovely spread of riches in glasses that seemed to consume me as I consumed them. The line-up started out with Stagg, Jr. and Midwinter Nights Dram, and was later joined by George T. Stagg. If you are counting, that’s a mighty high proof of an evening. It was as flavorful as a meal and, to be honest, much more satisfying. Someday when the world is bitter and cold, and I am downtrodden by life’s troubles, I will remember an evening when I reveled in the delights of these whiskies. And I will smile with the impression of the taste still lingering on my memory’s tongue.  MidwinterNights Dram:
What I knew: Blend of straight rye whiskey finished in French Oak and Port Barrels, 98.6 proof, aged 6 years, High West Distillery What I learned: Don’t judge a whiskey by its bottle, but anyone who takes the time to craft a delightfully Shakespearean label and names its goods Midwinter Nights Dram is probably someone after my heart – and tongue. This is spice cake in a bottle. There’s lemon, there’s spice; it’s a little sweet, but not in a syrupy way. It's finished in port barrels and French oak barrels, which seems to lend a good balance for something so high rye. And with a touch of water, some floral notes come through. I was drinking this with high proof bourbons and it still held its own on flavor. To liberally quote Puck, “Give us your hands if we be friends, and whiskey will restore amends.” Stagg, Jr. What I knew: Kentucky Straight Bourbon, Aged 8 years, 132 proof What I learned: 132 proof can be damn good. It did not knock me out with alcohol or make me reach for the water. Instead, it dripped down the insides of my cheeks and down my throat with a nice richness that lingered. A touch of water brought out the caramel smell and the hint of coffee in the aftertaste. It reminded me of when my mom made homemade brittle at Christmas and pieces of the toffee sometimes burned a little in the pan, giving a charred, sweet smell. George T. Stagg What I knew: Kentucky Straight Bourbon, aged 15 years, 138 proof What I learned: This is Jr’s dad. A little older. A little more complex. Apparently, quite hard to find. It comes out like once a year and doesn’t normally sit on shelves for long. For good reason. It was completely smooth. It just floated over my tongue like a whiskey cloud. When I was little and used to pray before bedtime, I would pray that I would dream about Care Bears because I thought it would be so cool to spend a night bouncing around on their clouds. You know what’s better? A whiskey cloud. George T Stagg is that whiskey cloud I wish I could dream about. I just wanted to crawl inside the glass, lick the sides, and then fall asleep happy at the bottom. But it disappeared before I could, leaving me with the just the echo of caramel, wood, and toffee. And a smile. Comments are closed.
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