Evan Williams Kentucky Straight Bourbon
Eight dollars. That is about the price of a Big Mac combo at McDonalds. That is also the price of a bottle of Evan Williams Bourbon. Not a mini bottle. A completely regular 750 mL size bottle.In Florida, I visited the mind-boggling Lueken's Liquors. Their selection is huge. Their prices are tiny. I headed straight to the bourbon, no pun intended. I picked out a nice green, no age statement bottle for $7.99
What does the price say about Evan Williams?
I opened the bottle with a clear mind, trying to be as objective as possible. Alcohol, sweet, medicinal. It was really hard to judge from the nose.
The taste was an eight-dollar surprise. Sweet and slightly spicy, a touch of honey, maybe a hint of that goo. You know, the stuff in the middle of butter tarts, but not quite as sweet. Yes alcohol was present but it was, um, well, smooth. The mouthfeel was thin, but not bad. Actually, it was really nice. Eight dollars nice? No. Nicer.
The finish was another eight-dollar shocker. Spicy (rye maybe?) and sweet. Quite short though. I was impressed. Eight-dollars impressed. No, that doesn't sound right.
Evan Williams isn't complex, that's obvious. But it's definitely eight-dollars complex. This is a bargain. Eight bucks? Seriously? For eight dollars most people would exepect their whisky to be mixer quality. And even then some wouldn't tolerate it in a mixed drink. But not only is this drinkable neat, it's GOOD.
Evan Williams is a barn-find DeLorean. Everything is covered in 3 decades worth of stinky barn dust. The leather is dried up. The tires are cracked. But surprise! Everything works. A steal for the price.
Lueken's Liquors: $8
750 mL
40% (80 proof)
Labels: bourbon, Evan Williams, review, whiskey, whisky

Approximately three quarters of the way through the film, I came to the realization I'd been duped. There was no climax to the (in)activities of the protagonists and there was no whisky. None whatsoever.
Ingrained in the human spirit is the desire to take home a souvenir from their travels. Or maybe it was successful marketing born 100 years ago, or perhaps the social acceptance of thievery. Who knows. But I knew that when I returned from Paris I wanted to bring home something special. Something I couldn't buy at home. One of those things was a bottle of Auchentoshan 18 year old scotch.
I suffered through my first glass of Woodford Reserve as an acrid layer of hot spice blanketed my tongue and choked my tastebuds. I had tried it in a tavern setting, with savory food. It was a mistake and I was thankful I hadn't made the costly investment of an entire bottle at the LCBO prior.
When I was in Paris, I was on a scotch-high. Breakfast was always 30 cent bananas and $1.00 Red Bull at the grocery store. But we ate out every night, and I attempted to try a new scotch each time.
The Scotch Noob 
Fearing for my life my hands began to tremble as I poured. The resulting casualty was swept up, but fearing a beating if I went off-schedule, I skipped the eulogy.
I don't really live a life full of vice, but one of my kryptonites is cherry-flavoured beverages. Cherry Coke, Wild Cherry Pepsi and for the love of God, the best of the best, Cherry Dr Pepper.
God must hate the prideful folks at the Buffalo Trace distillery. Why? Well, the bible says pride is bad. I think. So Buffalo Trace better get off their high horse before somebody smites them.
for better or worse, a genuine cork shows up in your hand. THAT is how serious they are.
Six years ago I had a very unfortunate start to my whisky journey when a neighbour gave me a bottle of scotch for Christmas. It was Glenfiddich 12 year old Special Reserve. I'll bet you're wondering why this is unfortunate.

When I entered I spun around, a la Julie Andrews, to take in the views of all that was on offer. I guess my excitement was apparent. Despite being dressed in my laziest pair of jeans and grungy old running shoes the amazing staff seemed genuinely happy I was there. Like I was an old friend.
Every time I try a new scotch I learn something. The more I drink, the more I learn. Sounds wrong, but it's true.
With St. Patrick's Day just behind us, it's about time I got around to my first Irish whiskey review. Although there are countless Jameson reviews, mine is likely a bit different and I suspect most people will disagree with me.
Whisky is expensive. And the longer it sits in barrels or casks, the more expensive it gets. You're not really paying for the sweet liquid inside, but rather time. As they say, time is money. Think of it as renting space to store something until you're ready to get it. You're also paying for the expertise of the Master Distiller as he nurtures it over those years.
The sherry gives the Three Wood a deep bronze colour, and more. The nose made my mind race, searching through file after file of scent memories, trying to find a match. Wood, butterscotch and grapes, and maybe more. It seems similar to the 12 year old only amped up and fruitier.
I've been drinking Southern Comfort since I was a wee child. It is still one of the staples in my house, but in recent years I had become bored with it. About the only thing I hadn't mixed it with, was milk. Scratch that. Just tried it. Don't do it.
I'm back again, polluting the internet with my amateur whisky reviews. While my posts aren't ill-conceived, the notion that I know whisky probably is. However, whisky is a very personal thing.
The taste was much better yet still simple. Caramel, vanilla, pepper and Portuguese cork notepad. Wha??? Yeah, I also noted a very odd flavour - it tastes the way my Portuguese cork notepad smells; kind of musty, but not in a bad way. 
