Saturday, May 21, 2016

The Art of Tasting Unicorn Whisk(e)y



Every Bourbon drinker has, apart from Pappy Van Winkle, Buffalo Trace Antique Collection on top of there to taste before I die hard list and I’m no exception. Personally, George T. Stagg has always sounded most appealing to me, but I have never had the pleasure meeting him, up close and personally. He’s been flirting with me, from a very, very far away distance, but we have yet to exchange phone numbers.

As some of you might know, I live in the rotten state of Denmark. Not a bad word spoken about that fact. I really like to live here, except for one little tiny detail. THE BOURBON SELECTION SUCKS BIG TIME. As a result of that, the few bottles from the Antique Collection that crosses the Danish borders are going straight to the whiskey bars and I wishes you a very good luck, trying to get your mouth soaked from one of those bottles. I think that I rather try my luck, winning the lottery and simply buying The Collection on the secondary market, from some overpricing bourbon flipper, than wasting precious time participating in that hunting party.

But I guess they are right, when the say (whoever they are) that every dog has his day. Because my whisky brother from another mother, phoned me up recently, telling me that he had just bought a bottle of George T. Stagg from some overpricing bourbon flipper. Nudge… Nudge… Say no more…  Know whatahmean... and he wanted to cut it up and sell it as samples. So was I interested in buying one? ” My fine fellow, let me sleep on that and call you first thing in the morning” I answered him. Year I know, I know. That one didn’t sound like me, right. Tell you the truth, I just asked him how he wanted his money transferred, while jumping ecstatically up and down in the air, like some damn fool.

So now I’m sitting here with this tiny sample bottle, which my buddy yesterday pressed into my sweaty hand, while I was pressing a big fat stack of money into his, like some shady drug exchange. It doesn’t look like much, standing there with its white handwritten label. Man, my guy isn’t into label art. Will you look at that handwriting? It looks like a child could have written it. Maybe that’s why I love my whiskey brother. Not because I don’t appreciate when people puts an effort into things, I really do, but because he’s the kind of guy who couldn’t care less about things like that. He just wants to drink some whiskey and to hell with the rest and that’s exactly why he’s the kind of guy holding a bottle like George T Stagg in Denmark.   

I think I was drifted a bit there. Twisting and turning the bottle in my hand. Looking at it! Wondering if it’s going to deliver all my exportations? No, it simply can’t! No way, not after all these years dreaming of tasting it. Maybe I should just drop it. Toss the bottle. Give it to some random drunk on the street, so it can sit untouched in my fantasy world. 

Pull yourself together man and stop thinking so much. You are overdoing the whole thing. It’s whiskey drinking, not ancient Greek philosophy you damn fool. He’s right, the little man inside my head, so I break the spell. With a single brutal twist, the screw cap is off and I pour it resolute into my glass.

George T. Stagg
Kentuckt Straight Bourbon Whiskey
Uncut/Unfiltered. Barrel Proof

Distillery: Buffalo Trace
Age: 16 Years
Proof/ABV: 142.8/74.4%
Mash bill: BT Mash bill 1
Release: 2012. Ongoing annual release

Points: 93/100 Points










First the nose: Wood. Big bold notes of wood and I can defiantly sense the high alcohol proof 
burning in the back of my nose. Better be careful sticking it to far down the glass. Then dark 
plum. Give it some time in the glass. I know you are excited to taste it my friend. But please 
be patient. Okay, there is also cinnamon and caramel down there in that alcohol swamp.   
 
Enough all ready, I want to taste it NOW. Very sweet upfront and then Boom.. It takes my 
head right off. Even if I’m pretty use to high ABV Cask Strength Scotch, this powerhouse 
monster shows me no mercy. It takes me right out of my chair and numbs my mouth for a 
couple of seconds. Then it calms down, the burning alcohol feeling slowly faints away leaving 
room for black as night cherry, more wood, black pepper and spicy caramel.
 
The finish last for ages with some fruity notes that I can quiet pickup on.
 
And I am slowly getting on my feet. Starting dancing the jitterbug, hell I don’t have a clue of 
what I’m doing. But now I’m flying, high as a kite.