Happy Thanksgiving from The Whiskey to Life!

Ah, Thanksgiving.

It really is a tradition like no other. Family and friends coming together to break bread, share in the year’s joys, and commiserate our pains. There’s the feast, of course. The turkey, the cranberries, the green bean casserole, the yams, the stuffing, the pies… all decadent, all familiar, all comforting. Maybe your family has football on in the background. Maybe you play games or tell stories. One thing is almost definitely a certainty – there will be arguments.

Sure, it could be about politics or current events. It could be about sports, or movies, or comic book villains, or even the classic dark meat vs light meat debate. Someone at the table will invariably hit a nerve, touch the proverbial third rail, or otherwise get under someone else’s skin. It’s tradition.

I, for one, enjoy a good debate. It’s even better when my opposition is sharp, logical and well thought out; it just hones my counterpoint. I am the offspring of a law professor, after all.

While I say embrace the debate, there is one thing we shouldn’t argue about. What to drink.

Yes, this is a blog dedicated to the conversation about what to drink… and yet, it is never about what NOT to drink. (If you dig it, enjoy it!)

While there are absolutely beverages I don’t personally enjoy, and even drinks I will go on record saying are objectively “bad,” what I’ve learned over the decades is that only the drinker needs to enjoy what he or she is drinking.

While I might say, “oh, you’ve poured yourself a Swedish Fish Pinnacle vodka and are mixing it with OJ and Diet Coke… that doesn’t sound good to me AT ALL…,” I would never say “that’s gross AND you should be drinking Basil Hayden’s Two ByTwo Rye.” (Which is great, by the way.)

It’s a slight but wildly important distinction. Having an opinion on something is not the same as pushing your opinion on others. Especially when it comes to the palate.

All of this leads me to a story about a whiskey blowhard who forgot this cardinal rule – the palate wants what the palate wants. I was at a high-end blind tasting in Las Vegas featuring pours that would blow your mind. The curator of the event tried to make each tasting personal, so the pours were specific to the drinker and his or her preferences. One of the guys attending was a blowhard.

  

You know the type:

   (Don't be this guy.)

Mr. Single Malt talked a huge game. He disparaged the good names of Jim Beam, Jack Daniels and Johnny Walker. He espoused not just his affinity for Single Malts, but his vitriol against blended whiskeys and most anything not-made in Scotland. While he was sure to repeat that Scotch was the only true whisky, he was equally sure to remind us he had a few bottles of Pappy which were pretty decent… for bourbon. (He was dick.)

He is the type who, at the Thanksgiving table, will say, “you should be drinking ______.” I hate this guy.

The curator of the event caught on quick. As mentioned, all of his pours were blind, and he tasked us whiskey nerds to try to ascertain what we were drinking. I love a blind tasting, as your brain ends up “pre-flavoring” so much of one’s opinion of a spirit before we even open a bottle. I was happy to find my palate and my brain were mainly on the same page – I enjoyed and rated highly brands I’d previously loved (some fine expressions of Wild Turkey and Four Roses) – and even happier to discover I enjoyed some “bottom shelf” whiskies too. This is how I learned I liked Crown Royal and Old Overholt. Two bottles I probably wouldn’t have picked up prior. Crown was my father’s whiskey, and Old Overholt was “cheap.” Lesson learned, right?

Well, this guy gets his pours and, I’m sure because he’s a blowhard, believes every dram in front of him is some epic spirit. Each a drink of the Gods. Well, of course, our curator slipped in two very cheap spirits. Before revealing what was poured, he asked Mr. Single Malt to pick out his favorite dram. Of the 10 pours, 6 were truly rare and “special” whiskies, 2 were mid-shelf, and 2 were bottom. He could have guessed randomly and had a good shot at picking something to make his ego happy. He did not though. He picked, I kid you not, Bird Dog Peach Whiskey (MSRP $14). He turned beet red at the reveal. How he couldn’t pick out the artificial flavorings in there is a real mystery. He did, to his credit, own it. He drank every drop of his cheap flavored whiskey. “Damn, I guess I like Bird Dog!”

I like to believe he stopped being a whiskey jerk right then and there. Hey, you like Jack? Great! Oh, you’re more of a High West Bourye guy, that’s cool too. Your whole thing is super-peaty Islays, go for it!

Here’s the thing, everyone’s palate is unique. This guy loved peach flavored bourbon, that’s his prerogative. Drink what you like.

The internet of whiskey is a never-ending flame war of pretension. Let’s not bring that to the table this Thanksgiving.

This year, I’m thankful for my family, the blessings of having a roof over my head, my health, and an abundance of great spirits to choose from. Here’s wishing the same for all of you.

-Cane@whiskeytolife.com

Thanksgiving 2018