gerbils

How White Owl Whisky made me a more responsible writer

My fellow inebriates,

I’ve been a fan of This Week in Virology (TWIV) for quite a while, even if 99 percent of it is beyond my two brain cells’ capacity to understand. I even pasted a poem into TWIV’s comments a couple of weeks ago, which they deleted.

In TWIV episode 760, the virologists and some guests took on the Nicolas Wade article about the possible origins of SARS-CoV-2. They accused Wade of not bothering to do the proper research.

Photo by CDC on Pexels.com

Then they addressed all writers, which I took to include yours truly, saying we need to be more responsible in our reporting.

Duly chastened, I went back to my post about SARS-CoV-2 to check it for balance.

After reading it carefully, I realized I had oversold you on Moosehead beer, which is basically a typical lager-style hockey beer.

It is refreshingly fizzy, though, and I stand by that.

~

This experience has taught me something.

I realize I have a duty to warn you about White Owl Canadian Whisky, made from wheat and rye and stripped of colour through charcoal filtering.

A small shelf-talker bottle of White Owl Whisky had hitchhiked home around the neck of a big-ass bottle of Wiser’s Deluxe that my mum bought before Christmas. (I’ll tell you about the Wiser’s another day.) The tiny bottle naturally ended up in my Christmas stocking. Delightful though that was, my paws were unable to open the damn bottle, and so it took up residence on the coffee table, taunting me.

Finally, I got it open. The effort was so jarring that I spilt it all over myself. I didn’t mind, though! I happily slurped it out of my fur—and as a bonus, White Owl is clear, so no washing machine for me.

But White Owl ain’t no sipping whisky. The filtering process that makes it look like vodka takes it halfway to tasting like vodka. It’s not mellow or caramelly; it’s harsh and spiky—a weird, in-between product. Granted, it’s more viscous than vodka, and it tastes rounder and more complex, but OMG, there were some nasty-ass flavours fighting it out in that little bottle (and in my fur!).

So consider this my (unaccredited) journalistic warning—White Owl Whisky should not be savoured. Throw it into a strange cocktail you’ve never heard of before. Why? Because then you won’t compare it with your experience of drinking that same cocktail made with a nice brown whisky. Try it in a Whiskey Smash maybe.

My mum came into the room while I was licking my fur and gave me a weird look. “What?” I said. “That’s what animals do. Look at the gerbils—they’re licking each other right now.”

She sniffed and then uttered the words: “washing machine.”

But she can be super-lazy, so she forgot all about it. And by the next day, the smell of White Owl Whisky had entirely evaporated.

Said my friend Scarybear: “See? That’s what happens to evidence.”

Lagavulin 8 Year Old—Destroyed by Cocoa the Gerbil

OMG, my fellow inebriates. I glanced at the gerbil tank (which I rarely do because I’m terrified of the gerbils’ ability to chew and shred). And what did I see?

Cocoa with Laguvulin box

It was Cocoa the Gerbil, villainously gnawing on the box that used to contain LAGAVULIN 8 YEAR OLD 200TH ANNIVERSARY WHISKY. Where did he get that box??? And where was the bottle?

lagavulin_8yoIn a panic I ransacked the kitchen looking for the bottle. Surely it had to be there, with the two inches I remembered of smoky, peaty yet round and buttery not to mention complex whisky. OMG, where was it? Under the sink I went looking for at least an EMPTY bottles from which to inhale the tarry, honey-roasted, briny dregs. But the recycling had gone out days before, apparently with my precious Lagavulin.

This was unforgivable. Not just because my dad and his friend R had finished it, but because Cocoa was now having his way with the box! I’m terrified of Cocoa at the best of times, and here he was lording it over me that my beloved whisky had been drained.

cocoa 2

Photo courtesy of Miss V

What the hell was I doing while Dad and R inhaled its sublime smoky yet fruit-forward notes, then sampled its gently charry, burnt-sugar flavour with its hints of licorice and seaweed followed by a baking-spice kick? WHAT WAS I DOING?!!

I was avoiding Cocoa, that’s what. My dad has finally found an effective guard for his liquor. As long as that gerbil tank stands between me and the kitchen, all booze is off limits.

 

FEENEY’S IRISH CREAM—For breakfast, while being watched

My fellow inebriates,

I promised you a sob story revealing why my typists (aka Mum and Dad) have left me to twiddle my thumbless paws for over a year now while my blog wallows in the lowest reader stats it’s ever seen.

But then I had breakfast (aka FEENEY’S IRISH CREAM), which had been lurking in the back of the fridge since Christmas. Obviously my mum was the last tippler, because the top was barely on (she has no idea how to close anything; either it’s barely on or it’s hopelessly misthreaded and you have to bash it against the sink to get it open). Anyway, it was my mum’s incompetence that enabled my miraculous Feeney’s breakfast.

An odd breakfast, you say?

feeneys-2You wouldn’t say that if it was in a morning coffee on New Year’s Day, would you? Then it would be okay. Or if you were camping. If you’re camping anything goes! To further make my case, I had no idea what date it was today. For all I knew, it could have been New Year’s Day. I don’t pay attention to calendars. So I slipped the top off the Feeney’s, inserted a straw, and…OMG, my fellow inebriates, what a yummy breakfast! You have to try this, people. Never mind what day it is. I suggest doing it just because it’s a day.

A 750mL bottle of Feeney’s sells at our local booze store for $20.99. That’s $6 less than the more famous Bailey’s Original Irish Cream. So how does it compare?

If you ask my dad, who immediately noted the price difference, he’ll say Feeney’s has nothing on Bailey’s. Ask my mum, presumably responsible for the half-bottle’s worth missing before I discovered it for breakfast, and she’ll say it’s practically identical. Made with cream and aged Irish whisky, Feeney’s is rich and luxurious, smooth and slightly chocolatey. Perhaps it tastes different (better?) than Bailey’s—but who knows? I’d have to urge my parents to buy both at once, and that’s about as likely as an asteroid hitting the house. Nope, the holiday season is over, and we probably won’t see either beverage until next winter.

2016-12-17-09-41-57Totally aside, but just to give you a small update of what’s been going on at LBHQ, while I consumed my delicious Feeney’s breakfast, I was observed by GERBILS. Yes, for the past 13 months, gerbils have been living with us. They reside in a gigantic glass tank in the dining room. At first I was afraid they would make similar fridge forays to mine and finish off the booze before I could, but then I realized they’re confined to their tank. My dad says they don’t feel confined because the tank is huge, but hey—who knows what they’re thinking? (Except Miss V, who can channel them.)

To be frank, I’m a little jealous of them, because when we first got them my mum said: “Wow, it’s great having animals in the house. They’re so animated, aren’t they, LB?”

And then she said to the kids, “Make sure you never put LB in the gerbil tank. If you do, they’ll chew him up in no time flat.”

OMG!!!