Saturday, June 5, 2010

The Well Endowed Black Bottle of Sir Gordon Graham



First off, Rest Sweetly and Serenely, beautiful and endeared Rue McClanahan aka Blanche Devereaux. You are the most amazing GILF (Grandma, I'd Like to...) I've ever known. And on to the whisky--

Why did I choose this obscure bottle to contribute to our liver damage?

Allow me to quote the box:

"Black Bottle 10 Year Old challenges the rules of deluxe whiskies - its heart is made entirely of Islay malts from each of the island's seven distilleries, blended with the finest grain whiskies. Islay malts are different from their mainland counterparts. They are known the world over for their deep intensity and their powerful smokiness. And they reach their prime at 10 years old. Which is why Black Bottle 10 Year Old embodies the most fulsome and satisfying taste of Islay. It will stimulate the palate, warm the heart and fire the imagination."

Who doesn't want to be stimulated? Who doesn't want that fuzzy cozy feeling in the chest that only the burn of a solid bottle of liquid amber and an episode of Golden Girls can instill? Who doesn't want their imagination fired up to the Nth degree, where words, ideas, actions flow as smoothly as excessive amounts of oily foods digested with the help of alcohol from the bowels?

Excuse the disgusting analogy. But I was seduced at once by the bold statements of this distiller, one Gordon Graham (originally). It just makes sense that the island malts have their heart in a different place, a more wispy, salt sheen, frothiness that delights the most discerning of tongues? The stuff was solid. At around 28 dollars a bottle, this underrated whisky deserves a little time in the limelight. So here you go, black bottle! We created a youtube channel and recorded a rather shitty video for your viewing pleasure, in which we pay tribute to my recently (her funeral was the day we drank it) deceased organ instructor, Tasia Mitchell.

But before I get to that, there is always a wee bit of lore about every bottle of scotch. Steeped in history, scotch making is the pride of the Scots and it shows in their keeping of legends about the distillers, origins, marketing ploys (both failed and otherwise), and, of course, popularity.

Along those lines, Black Bottle was sold in a black glass bottle up until World War I, as the bottles were produced in Germany. The original distillers were tea blenders! David and Gordon Graham produced the first batch in 1879. A distillery fire nearly destroyed the business, but a revamped product in the hands of smart contemporary Scots has upped the popularity so much recehantly, that it was nominated for the Drammies in 2008!

So how does Black Bottle stack up? It gets high marks for its unique Islay character, is not too sweet (like Jonnie Walker and his fairy whiskies), and has a very smooth roll off the tongue, down the throat, where it seems to rest somewhere in between the stomach and the head. I imagine ramshackle houses on the seashore with patches of green salt-loving grasses, father smiling smugly with his little fisherman's hat and his bristly beard framing his smiling chapped lips, while he rosy-faced pours another glass, mother at the hearth, drinking straight from the bottle to warm her toes, her ruddy hair straggling across her unspecific face, vegan stew in the pot (yeah, thats a bit of a stretch) and a fattening loaf of bread in the potbelly stove. Ah, coastal splendour, and all the fog of the mind that comes with it!

So set your sails, mates, and experience the very first tastes of Gordon Graham's Black Bottle with your hosts, Sir Toey Jierney and Sir Raximus Mex.

Cheers!

Friday, June 4, 2010

Black What? :-|



Can you say horrible marketing? I mean, as im writing this blog im constantly having to referr back to this picture ---> to reming my brain of the name of the bottle.....and everytime i look i think "Black Bottle," gimme a break. Well this night was a bit different, as we started consuming her Black Bottle we decided it best to abandon ship and head downtown to drink in public places. Twus an exciting evening of friends, drunks, spillages and friends leaving other friends for other friends with much more creativity and flair. After downtown we shuttled back to BLack Bottle and back to fun.... In all honestly, i dont remember the rest of that evening too much. We got back, mixed some Black Bottle (:-|) with some Pelligrino and got down with one of our favorite past times, mind numbing.
Goldeneye for Nintendo 64 has been giving 007 a run for its money lately.
Alas, this is the last post i shall be contributing until my adventure into the
mountains. I shall be attending Sequoia National forest for the summer, living like a Apeman, in the trees, getting paid, skateboarding everyday, enjoying life and most importantly in retrospect.....not drinking.... what was it called again?.... Way to make an impression asshole.... no more Black bottle for me.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Gentleman Whack!

There's really no excuse, Jack. We know you make bank off us. We know you're one of the most popular drinks ordered thusly: "Can I get (I'll have/take) a ________ and coke, please (the please only sometimes)." We know you're probably partially at least responsible for the liver failure of frat boys all across these fifty nifty United States (and Guam), that you seep into the stomach lining of our golden youth, dilute their judgment, impair their spatial reasoning. We know you help stoke the blazes of many a dying fire in the loins of guys and dolls all over. So, please, with all the money you pilfer from us so that we may fuck up our lives with your manly juice, invest some back into your Gentleman Jack. Or should I say, Gentleman Whack! This shit is the most whack ass different bottle same great taste, stupidly obvious consumer whore corporate whisky wanna-be upgrade on a "great American" product I've ever experienced. And we fell for it. I might as well have pissed on my forty dollars and stuck it to my forehead and proceeded to go out in public wearing a shirt with George W. Bush's chimpanzee ass face on it and some text below that reads: "Miss me Yet?"



Whatever. We got drunk, rode bikes, made vegan chick'n burgers with fresh avocado, tomato and spinach and fraternized on a dizzying journey back from one of the most productive trips I've ever made to San Francisco. Oh yeah, and we now have ice cream cone cups with twisty straws attached! liek omigosh.


Friday, May 14, 2010

Gentleman Jack


As we are but kind men, we are Gentleman. And as we are nomads, we are also thrill seekers; seeking great times in the most mundane situations. A day with no work for either Max or myself must consist of some form of extreme adventures, and as we began to board the Caltrain home from San Francsico, we sought out a thrill of the free... taking Whisky onto Caltrain and getting to business.
<----- yes Indeed we are But Gentlemen of the Jack. After initially choosing Jack Daniels, Max insisted we raise our standards and i obliged. After boarding the train of the Cal, we cracked Sir Gentleman of Jack. Is the Whisky taste altered by a cup with a twisty straw wrapping up around the cup like a tornado? Yes. With that said, Gentlemans Jack sucked major phat ass. I mean shit man, this shit is designed for a gentleman.....supposedly. I could believe the shit as Jack Daniels in a different bottle, that for some weird reason costs more. Well Max and I drank about half of this beast, got off Caltrain and operated our
bicycles all the way to Max's pad to play some half drunked stonered scrabble. After scrabble we naturally battled some street fighter, polished off the ugly, disgusting, un-respectable, lying, cheating, pathetic, worthless (almost), and atrocious excuse for our first Bourbon of Whisky Business. If you shall consume and are debating on upgrading to Sir Gentleman Jack, save yourself some much needed scrill, and dont. Gentleman Jack is Gentleman crap. Over and out.

Token Blog Link

Friday, May 7, 2010

Johnny Walker Green




Johnny Walker Green... where do i begin? If your a loyal follower like Max and I hope so, you'll know green was next up on our Johnny Walker list. Definitely some high expectations going into this one, the dam bottle cost 60 bucks. I was hoping for a bottle made of 100% recycled material that donated 35% of profits to saving the rain forest, quit the contrary. We began this bottle on a dusky Mid Week day with scrabble on our minds.

<-----If you can read that miniature image than congratulations to you. As the night trickled on, we soon came to realization that this Whisky was not all we thought it would be. Rather than making us "green" Stewards to the environment, our faces turned green along with our livers. Johnny Walker Green is garbage, that does not deserve to be recycled. Im sure you all remember buying that cheep Wal Mart product you thought was so well priced, only to have the plastic peel off, the layers come undone or the basic mechanics of it simply fail after only a short time of use. Well my friends, Wal Mart obviously makes crap that causes our landfills to grow at an alarming rate, so maybe they are the original creators of Johnny Walker Green. After only 2 or 3 glasses, the label on the Johnny Walker green started peeling off.... AND the fucking cork broke in half.


What a seriously Epic fail... my face in the picture that is... Well the night went on regardless. Max is considering entering the Scrabble Olympics due to his extremely large vocabulary. He acts weird when he wins though...
Aside from the fact that Johnny Walker Green sucks ass, it was an extremely fun night. Max's exuberant roomate Jake played a game or two of scrabble with us as well. The night ended typically with Street Fighter, god i love that game. Until Next Time, Whisky Business Over and OUT.


P.S.

Anne of Green Labels.

I thought it would save the environment.
There's definitely a misty glow about Johnnie Walker's Green Label, with its gilded lines and lettering, its deep hunter green with an almost matte finish. It looks exotic in a line of Jonnie Walker bottles--the forbidden meadow, the ferngully. And we hoped, sincerely, to be led into the Great Valley, where fruits resplendent shine on trees and water flows between your knees, where the fey folk live in their gourd houses, birds chattering the Gospel of Gaia on their leaf heavy branches...

But instead we were just kind of drowned in a foetid swamp.
(negative 50 health/mana fer sure)



Well, every bottle is a gamble. This one just happened to be an expensive one. A night of tasting and re-tasting and evaluating and reevaluating led me to an enlightening conclusion. Perhaps it isn't the age of JW, but the substance itself. There's something foul in the bottle, in the mix, in the process, who knows? It's just, and I quote myself "too sweet for me. When I drink Scotch I want to be grated against something, something grainy and woody. Johnnie Walker, you are a pussy." I hereby disrespect any lamefoot who orders this particular vintage, this particular Scotch as his drink of choice a goober. The Glenlivet is soft on the palate, sure, but it is both interesting, adequately oak barelly, and a charming introduction to Scotch. As in, if Scotch were California and all the different types cities in California, it would be important to visit the right city to get turned on to California, or to get a faithful representation of California's wonder, wealth, and diversity...aka, its beauty! So, if this were the case, the Glenlivet might be San Francisco. JW Green might be Fresno. Do not go there. For that matter, avoid Blythe (JW Red) and Bakersfield (JW Black):



On a cheerier note, we had a blast with claymation Jacob who only went narcoleptic towards the most latter part of the evening, I have no perceivable hangover, though my heads in a cloud (but when is it not?), and I did my degree some justice by winning two games of Scrabble with words like Azalea, Herb, and Dour. 


Gloat-worthy.

Live Action Joey, it's your turn.
































P.S.
DO NOT CLICK HERE :D

Thursday, April 29, 2010

J. Dubya Bleck.


Black is the most beautiful color, known in physics as the perfect absorber of light, or to us as the color you do not wear in Summer in Bakersfield unless you have a queer desire to have a heatstroke. Like the color itself, which absorbs all the visible colors of light, Joey and I are on a quest to absorb all the colors that Jonnie Walker has to offer.

Red was meh-tastic. Cheap, efficient, unspectacular.
Black was nothing to write home about, but some bizarre energy emanated from that bottle last night--causing us to create the cup protectors Joey shows below as well as give the bottle a face, some character. Character...something that, so far, the Walker clan seems to lack. Perhaps that is why we endeavored to decorate. J.W. Black's lack of complexity, lack of interesting, definitive qualities bored us. Thank Anubis for youtube, synthetic facial hair, my newly decorated gothic altar, my pvc bordered lip service dress shirt (bought special for the occasion), and all things black.

                                                                                                        Like:

                                     Siouxsie Sioux's eyebrows 
                                       Robert Smith's hair
                                   Black satin sheets
                                 ?Obama?
                                     Mother's eyes after private time with Father
                                  The Abyss
                                      Gun Oil Lubricant
                                   Most strap on dildos
                                The Necronomicon
                                       Satan's butthole
                                         My genitalia...

Johnny Walker Black






So Mr. Black, what do thy hath to offer? This was the ultimate question going into our night with plans of consuming The Black label of Johnny Walker. Incase some of you are unaware.... JOhnny walker makes different grades of Whisky...
Red Label - This was our first excursion of Her Walker
Black Label - Front and Center
Green Label - Next in line
Gold Label - this shit is expensive
Blue Label - maybe someday (180 dollar
bottle)


This night started out well. With my last experience fresh in my mind, i was careful to pace myself come the evening. Approximately 8pm arrives, and JOhnny Walker is cracked open. Though red is poor, Black Label is far from pleasing on the pallet. We had a comrade with us, enjoying the evenings entertainment.... which turned out to be a coloful stew of Fake Mustaches, paper, sharpies, tape and Max's immense desire to
share music with the world.




The artist formally known as Geeves




The Unicorn Princess in the Flesh


Tree Hugging Dirt Worshipper
Anyhew, after much consumption, much inhalation (when are these guys gunna learn their lesson!??) and much under water basket weaving.... we were then pulled in by the magnet
known as video game systems. Street Fighter again.... i noticed when i play street fighter i kick serious ass, but every once in a bit Max takes me out... and from this i noticed anger burn in me so strong i want to inflict serious damage on his person, video games are not healthy i say. This night concluded peacefully with little to no yelling, screaming, kicking, puking, howling, meat eating, or candy corn (that shits good too)



Money is the bank,
Shorty what is your preferable
beverage of choice.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

kurt cOBAN

Just like Kurt swallowed a barrel of a gun and laid waste to his braincells, Joey had an epic fail last night. The 86 proof Oban 14 year scotch, a scotch from a region nestled perfectly at the intersection of land and sea, a so called "walk on the beach," got down Joey's throat and rallied the prisoners of his stomach and, with a muffled cry, mutinied, taking Joey's dinner and possibly lunch with it. We were watching Siouxsie Sioux videos and then the exalted Alice on Acid for guest Shaina's pleasure, when all of the sudden Joey started to emulate poor Alice. I think the words might even have left his mouth: "I can't do this right now." But its okay, old chum, for thou art definitely not the first fallen soldier:



So how, you may wonder, does an 80 dollar bottle of top shelf Whisky inspire the esophagus to convulse in unpleasant ways? Let's analyze. Oban is unlike almost any of the whisky's we've thrown down the hatchet. It's distinct character is duly noted (and widely appreciated). As for taste, it's muscly, dry, peaty, a bit of the salt of the sea is in every golden olive sip. There's some kind of wicked voodoo in the bottle due to the misty and mysterious qualities of Oban's distillation process. Made in extremely small batches, with 200 year old techniques, using partially germinated malted barley roasted to secret specifications, this is a conoisseur's whisky. In other words, the quality of the alcohol, its taste and complexity are all things to appreciate, not upchuck.

The only reasonable solution to our inquisition is that Joey is a pansy. No, really, the often overlooked statement on almost every bottle you swig out of holds a few ounces of wisdom: Please, Drink Responsibly.

Got "Oban"-ed



Wow. Geeez La Weeez. Well last night wasnt the dreamy creamy whisky drinkin we had all hoped for. So earlier in the day, i stop at BevMo and catch this Bottle of Oban with my Poke' Ball. (((((OBAN WE CHOOSE YOU!!!))))) So Max finishes his shift at slave world, we officially open Oban and proceed to drinkin.
About an hour after the festivities begin, a delightful piece of eye candy arrives as a guest. At this point the mistake was made to bring out the Smokedie Smoke..... not wise. As i soon realize, i was drinkin the Whisky at quit a rapid pace. The Whisky sinks in, the Smoke sinks in, the spins sink in, and my dinner exits from a place i thought food was only suppose to enter......not exit. I rapidly ruin the night and the next thing i know im waking up the next morning..... which happens to be Earth Day! But man, what an epic fail :-|
~HeirTierney

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

New Bottle Coming Tonight

Tonight a Whottle of Bisky Shall be consumed.

Nice pic right?

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Another Random PIcture Update

I post extra pics every now and here and then and there in hopes that it will vibrate the humorous part in your person.
Deep.
yuMmmMmmmy!
woah! Holy Flying Minds Batman!
epic right?
nice face
Whats cooler.... the white ghost thing protruding out of the box like a proboscis? Or that gnarly lookin goat that appears to have dominated all other goats and is the only left on earth?

Picture Update

If You can tell me whats on the labtop, you win a prize
Who are you and what are you doing with my Whisky!
Is she an actor or really just fucked up?
Work pants. Jakes gnarly drawing in the backround. Nice face asshole.


Friday, April 16, 2010

Jameson







Oh, Jameson. Irish WhiskEy indeed. We drank this on Mr. Goodwin's birthday. Jameson was purely polite on the pallet, personifying Mr. John Jameson, a Scottish-born businessman. -> June 2008: Jameson sales reach 2.6 million cases. God Dam right?! Well it deserves the sales because its efficiently priced with an over-efficient taste.

The night ended up with Max and I battling, using our minds, creating strategies and plans to take the other out... in Street Fighter. I was Zangieff for sure, dude is ripped. But Max's Blanka was electrifying my ass and taking me down with his repetitive frustrating low kicks. I attempted to go for the Anderson Silva of Street fight...Dhalsim. I was picking him apart with my reach and slide kicks, but he quickly adapted and took me out again. Then we finished up by watching Super Jail



Another great night for The Whisky Business

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Comrade Jameson

You are polite, Herr Jameson! You have a very mild taste, too uninteresting for me, but nonetheless, I can see why the night would go by with you in constant demand. I feel a strange clarity that I rarely feel towards this hour of drunkenness with most other whiskies. Jameson seems to tickle you to drunkenness whereas other alcohols either dunk you, drop you, push you, tackle you or rape you. Thanks for the gentle fuck, Jameson, and the sweet whispers of acrid breath that melt the wax in my ears. Jameson, you made my birthday party and you made it feel like balloons, cake and confetti.

Jameson

Wednesday night, and oh a day i have had says I of the Tierney clan. Almost done with the bottle of Jameson at this point, and type away i shall. Tomorrow i have an exam on Invertebrates in the Arthropod Phylum, i feel 85% ready and the exam is at 3pm tomorrow so ill have some time to study/cram.
This Jameson is not the best tasting, but for the price... the value responds to efficient callings. Pictures to come tomorrow, i wish i could order Crunchy tacos with potatoes and hot sauce inside them along with cabbage, onions, peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, beans, rice and guacamole. And a side of cripsy deep fried french fries that are made from some fast food joint that retains the highest value for my money at 3am at night. Extinguished says I, Chauncy Peppertooth

Saturday, April 10, 2010

The Dimple Pinch.


John Haig & Co. is responsible for our cheekiest choice yet: The Dimple Pinch. With its trademark bottle and *cute* name, this is one scotch that seems like it would be quite the treat, or at least a hit at parties. But this blend of "only the very best 15 year old malt and grain whiskies" simply failed to deliver. Maybe it was us expecting more from a 15 year old (reasonably mature for a Scotch) or maybe it was the cute factor, but our enthusiastic plunge into this 750 milliliters was disappointing.

The bottle's description hails its contents as being "a warm, inviting smooth whisky with hints of fruit and spices with a rich, SOFT finish on the palate." Soft? Hardly. Our first little nipper of this paler-than-usual scotch was a bit of a kick in the teeth. Not only, but the nose was decidedly wimpy, a stark contrast to the ram sweat we enjoyed the previous two nights, the pinkies down manliness of Sheep Dip. The honeyed, somewhat almond subtle sweet of The Glenlivet far outdoes the purported richness of The Dimple Pitch. I guess, in one sense, the label was right: "hints of fruit and spices." The complexity which we have come to anticipate in the varied world of scotch whiskies was merely hinted at, suggested. The finish? A smidgen too harsh. To its credit, though, I feel great this morning, though my breakfast beverage did have a slightly woody taste...

The Pinches' lore is pretty fascinating, though. In 1655, Robert Haig (distillery founder) was summoned before a court of law to defend his operation of a distillery on the Sabbath! God forbid. It also boasts a 1987 Gold Medal from the International Wine and Spirits competition. The bottle, which seems to be a focal point of the whisky for its fans, was the first bottle to be patented in the U.S. in 1958.

Being one of the oldest documented still operating whisky distilleries in the world definitely ups the cool factor on this bad boy, and maybe everything out there is just a jumbled imitation, but I, for one, can easily put this one on the dusty back shelves of my whisky sampling memory. 


                                                              Dimple Pinched.

Friday, April 9, 2010

The Double Dip!

You may be thinking: why does Joey have two bottles of Whisky in his clutch? Well, once upon a Thursday evening, one that happened to take place yesterday, an invitation was extended us: Athena and Shaun Nirenstein, our friendly British South African vegan refugee couple, asked to have us round for some homemade curry, various hors d'oeuvres and WHISKY.

"Rock on!" We said and hustled on over. We entered politely at our friends' seventh story super cool 21st century condominium, sat, and tried to contain our excitement over the promise of our favorite golden nectar. Upon request, they pull out two bottles: Jonnie Walker's darker vintage: Bleck, and, with a little red bow secured at the top, a pristine bottle of our previous night's blog post, SHEEP DIP!

"It was a gift," she said, even as our eyes bulged in cheerful non-belief at our luck and the chance to DOUBLE DIP!

And so we whittled the night away indulging Sheep Dip's fine array.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

The dawn of Whisky Business Time


When this blog was created, the business of drinking Whisky had already lasted 2 trials. These trials, though in the past, are too be told in this blog titled "The dawn of Whisky Business Time."
First, we started with "The Glenlivet." The Glenlivet has a 12 year aged bottle and a whisky aged as long as 21 years. The 12 year got its chance on our first night. The Glenlivet is all aboard the gravy train. Smooth tasting the entire way through, with a fierce yet calming buzz. At the end of this all i can think of is how delicious the 18yr shall taste when it gets nominated.

Second, we drank Johnny Walker Red label. Deciding between Whiskys at Albertsons is like choosing between intelligent Bush supportters, right? Well, Johnny Walker red was chosen due to classic name, along with a cheap price. A cheap price is what we got i must say. Johnny Walker Red's first sip did not taste good. Upon looking, i found Johnny Walker Red to be a blended Scoth Whisky, which is now not my Whisky of choice. ONly positive from JWR is the hope that the black, green, gold and blue will be better? You guys are gunna buy an expensive bottle of Johhny Walker blue?!?!?! Maybbbbee.... just meebe. Aufweiderhoren.

Post Ingestion Sheep Dip

Morning After Sheep Dip. Sheep dip was definitely diplicious. After reading up on the history and methods of sheep dip from my comrad below, i feel enlightened. Every sip was smooth and creamy like it was just exported from a creamery. The label is a bit on the bland side, aside from the sheep that appears to have aids and is foaming from the mouth.
The problem with Sheep Dip (for me) was that after ingesting about half the bottle, the herb came out and applied the spins to my skull.... not good. Passed out next to some tortilla chips with Zero 7 on the radio. Sheep Dip is a Deep ship to sail. Good Whisky.
-Baby Kangaroo

Sheep Dip. Good Shit.



Jim Murray describes Sheep Dip in his 2006 Whisky Bible as “Young and sprightly like a new-born lamb, this enjoys a fresh, mouthwatering grassy style with a touch of spice. Maligned by some but to me a clever accomplished vatting of alluring complexity."

Yeah, whatever. I want to see this Whisky Bible; I feel I may find in it the answers to my questions of existence, enlightenment, sense of purpose, etc. Or should I do as most religions have ended up doing and just write my own?

Bingo.

Sheep Dip, our baby lamb, is a unique whisky, vatted meaning a blend of several single malt whiskys and apparently created by Scotland's only Third Generation Scotch Master Blender Richard Patterson. My kind of a guy! Let us imagine, for a moment, what this gentlemen must look like. An aged gentleman, enjoys a nice straight up scotch, maybe with Perrier,
wears a little skull cap and a coral turtleneck...oh shit...something like this:


(Joey?)

Not only did I feel as if I were shipped deep into the grassy meadows of a sweetly warm Spring day, the grass blossoming its little spores into my nostrils, but the Joey and I were only out 39 dollars plus tax, encouraging us to indulge in a shiny new pair of bucket glasses to imbibe our particular pick of poison.

So, I've failed, in some respect, to understand the multi-faceted world of Scotch aficionado stuffiness, which, mind you, seems at least a little less pretentious than the parvenu riddled world of Winos (sorry Mom). Or perhaps scotch drinkers are just more fun. The comments section of the Sheep Dip website features a lively collection of satisfied customer responses. One wrote a limerick (but hasn't posted it there, or else I'd ask to reproduce it here). And I can relate. This scotch had a complexity that you could imagine might get lost or at least confused in a blend of several different 8 to 12 year old single malts, but maybe its Richard's master blending capabilities or the blind glee that caused me to dip, without reserve, my brain into this cup o' caramel splendour.

Three things!

1. Sheep Dip got its name from an ages old tradition of farmers hiding their whisky from the tax collectors and their wives in barrels labeled "SHEEP DIP" instead of "WHISKY." In honor of this amusing tradition, the folks at Spencerfield Spirit (the proprietors of Sheep Dip) so named the spirit we got infused with the night just past.

2.
The term sheep dip refers to a liquid formulation of insecticide and fungicide which shepherds and farmers may use to protect their sheep from infestation against external parasites such as itch mite (Psorobia ovis), blow-fly, ticks, keds and lice. (Wikipedia Article Here)

3. If asked, one day, how do I know if this concoction my friend Stewart made is a genuine Scotch Whisky? Well, lucky quackers, the legal requirements for a Scotch Whisky are as follows:

  1. Must be distilled at a Scottish distillery from water and malted barley, to which only other whole grains may be added, have been processed at that distillery into a mash, converted to a fermentable substrate only by endogenous enzyme systems, and fermented only by the addition of yeast,
  2. Must be distilled to an alcoholic strength of less than 94.8% by volume so that it retains the flavour of the raw materials used in its production,
  3. Must be matured in Scotland in oak casks for no less than three years and a day,
  4. Must not contain any added substance other than water and caramel coloring
  5. May not be bottled at less than 40% alcohol by volume. (thanks Wikipedia!)
Geesh, who knew? Someone did. And someone regularly enforces these rules, no doubt! Looks like whatever we make in our bathtubs and backyards here in America has no chance of carrying that classy label with the words "Genuine Scotch Whisky" on it.

To sum it up: Sheep Dip is a cost effective choice with a complex and interesting flavor, an alluring and well thought out marketing scheme, rave expert reviews (hey...an honorable mention in the Bible of Whisky ain't bad), a guilt-free morning after, and a permanent place on our Shrine to Scotch.