As Spring finally descends upon the previously frigid masses, a man's thoughts turn to liquid love. Of late, I've been experimenting with blended scotch whiskies. Sure, they don't have the cool biggus-dickus cache of your single malts, but they offer up their own delights and hidden discoveries.
Probably my favorite of the batch. If you looked up "easy whisky to sip" in a dictionary, I would like to borrow that dictionary because it is awesome and rare. But if you were to ask me what is an easy whisky to sip and stare into the distance, I'd say "What are you looking at exactly?" and then I would say "Try the Monkey Shoulder." I don't know, it's not a particularly well-heralded whisky, but for me, it captures the essence of scotch. Sometimes a line drive down the middle is just right, especially when it's hit powerfully, perfectly and passionately. If I have this on-hand and I open my vast liquor closet without anything in mind, lately this is what I'm pulling out.
A new blend for me is The Feathery, which is produced in the same Scottish region where golf was invented and has something to do with feathers having been an ingredient in golf balls or that feathers got on golf balls or balls with feathers are like soft plumage on my balls or jesus christ who cares. The important thing is it's a blend of single malt scotches, and the taste is nearly as satisfying as the Monkey Shoulder.
One thing I've discovered in my vast experience of trying three blended scotches is that their value lies in providing a drink that is "Scotch". Meaning, they're not going to be outta-right-field weirdo drinks. You're not getting the heavy burgundy menstruation of the Glendronach or the medicinal swampwater bog of Laphroaig or the blue steel anal penetration of the Bruichladdich. Now, that's not to say they are all middle-of-the-road boredoms. All have their own twists and unique snowflake qualities. But you're not going to take a sip of a blend and then violently grab your throat or your toilet area, if you know what I mean, because I don't.
Anyway, I've only had a couple glasses of the Feathery so I can't really judge it against the Monkey Shoulder, of which I've had about eight bottles. But I can say that I liked it, it wasn't heavy, it wasn't distracting. In fact, I can't really remember anything about it. Which is a good start, but might also portend a whisky that just lies there, like Jennifer from Germantown last week. Who makes that long of a drive just to take a fuck-nap?
Finally, there's the Black Bottle. This previously was a bottom-of-the-market scotch, which disappeared from shelves for a couple of years and was entirely re-dreamed up. And now? It's a slightly better than bottom-of-the-market scotch. But no shit, this stuff has its charm. If it's 11:30 pm and I've got 90% of a buzz and some cutie patootie is on her way over to my house to get down with the clown and I need one more bullet in the love gun and I'm quickly running out of horny metaphors, I can grab my Black Bottle (no not that, I mean the whiskey) uncork it and take a hard sexy tug right out the spout and I am Good To Go. Again, it's easy, it's smooth, it's not going stick its finger up your asshole while giving you a beej, it's just going to provide a solid reliable drink of scotch.
One additional note. One of the lovely ladies I met for drinks last week had some of this with muddled cucumber and a little simple syrup. And it was so delicious! So I threw a bottle onto my last internet order and we'll see how it is. Haven't cracked it yet.
