Make Mine Neat
Leaves on the ground, frost sparkling on blades of grass, and my breath clouding before me as I walk home in the evening signify many things for me, but near the top of the list is bourbon. As soon as the evening chill hits my cheeks, I imagine evenings in some vague lodge, warmed by a crackling fire and a glass of good whiskey sipped slowly with friends. Of course, the reality is more like my boyfriend (and fellow bourbon adventurer) and I sampling our latest finds and listening to satellite radio, but something about that glass of amber liquor still transforms the room.
If I were truly my father's daughter, I'd be into scotch. However, my southern education left me with two important things: a degree, and a taste for bourbon. Like it is for so many, Jack Daniel's* was my gateway drink, mixed with ginger and fresh lime. It's still a good drink, but it tastes too much like the 40 Watt for me now, a beverage tied so closely to a place and age that drinking it feels like time travel. Before I left Georgia I dabbled in some slightly more exotic bourbons, and by the time I got back to DC, Maker's Mark was my choice when I was feeling fancy; and I quickly adopted my DC roommate's favorite rail variety, Wild Turkey, as mine too. With those baselines, we ventured into the district in search of new tastes, joining the "Bourbon Club" at one bar in Georgetown, and spent one particularly memorable evening over twin rocks glasses of an especially butterscotch-y Elijah Craig, at a new bar and restaurant appropriately dubbed Bourbon. It was a tony establishment, and that's where I realized that the things I'd always assumed about bourbon, the drink -- that it's sort of the backwoods brother of the more cultured scotch -- were either changing, or never true to begin with. Bourbon was the drink I imbibed with my dude friends -- be they sports buffs, indie-rock snobs, or rockabilly punks -- but at Bourbon, I was surrounded by folks in chinos and Polo shirts, stilettos and Coach bags. The bartenders sported the tattoos and band t-shirts to which I was accustomed, but the clientele... different. Of course, they could have been the usual suspects in deep disguise, but it was so unexpected as to be jarring. Turns out my little go-to drink was actually pretty popular, and not with whom I'd come to expect.
These days, I'm surrounded by bourbon freaks. Thanks to my sister's fiancee, I have a new favorite: Corner Creek. It's smooth, distinctive, and packs a punch without the burn of lesser blends. I also love Russell's Reserve, and ask for Jim Beam when I'm feeling impecunious. What are your favorites?
*Granted, Jack Daniel's is Tennessee whiskey. It's still a gateway to bourbon for many.
Tags: bourbon
10:16 AM ET | 12-12-2007 | permalink
