irish whiskey

Bushmill’s Black Bush—luring bears into the liquor store

My fellow inebriates,

This week one of my favourite booze websites, Good Spirits News (GSN), drew my attention to Bushmill’s Black Bush Whiskey. When I saw they had given it an A+, I immediately went online to see if our government booze store stocked it. Score! It was even on sale for $34.99.

Bushmill's Irish Whiskey bottle

For this marvellous shopping trip, I accompanied my mum, riding in her backpack. I hadn’t been out of the house since long before the pandemic, so this was novel. The whole world had changed. Our booze store had even rebranded.

My mum was reluctant to take me along. In the past, I’ve attempted to stay behind at the store. But she told me if I tried to hop out of the backpack this time and take up residence in the Irish whiskey section, I’d probably end up being destroyed (and not in the good, wasted kind of way). She pointed out that I was no longer as fluffy as I was when I first sprang from the liquor store’s Christmas share-a-bear sale so many years ago.

I countered that neither was she.

Still, I took her point about the common practice of darting bears that show up at liquor stores and promised to stay in the backpack.

Happens all the time.

Thus we made a surgical strike, claimed our Black Bush and hightailed it out of there.

Two days later (why??? why do I always have to wait???) we tried it. Our friends at GSN were correct—Black Bush is a fine whiskey that’s weighty and rich in a classic toasty-caramel vein. On the nose you get faint nuttiness and butterscotch. On the palate it has a ton going on—some spices, some dried fruits and some tea tannins. Those flavours develop in your mouth and finish off on the sweet side. In short, it takes your palate through a small journey, much like my foray in the backpack, although without the threat of being darted.

Black Bush is made from 80% malt whiskey and 20% grain whiskey, which makes it a bargain (regular $38.99). It spends years in sherry casks, which confers a sweetness on it that my dad and I noticed right out of the gate. My mum didn’t find it sweet, but that’s because she’s been hanging out in the Canadian rye section for so long. Still, she felt connected to this whiskey because it hails from her mum’s birthplace, County Antrim in Northern Ireland (although Bushmill’s is owned by the folks who make Cuervo).

By Jonathan Schachter, 2005, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=5848335

Given how little travel is going on these days, Black Bush is the closest we’re going to get to Northern Ireland anytime soon, so we might as well drink copious amounts of it.

And you, too, my fellow inebriates. If you’re looking for a reasonably priced whiskey you can sip or mix into a mean cocktail, this is it. Get your mother to put you in a backpack and take you to your local booze shop ASAP!

Redbreast Irish Whiskey—what the world needs right now

My fellow inebriates,

If you were in my local booze store yesterday afternoon, you were definitely helping said store violate the new rules on social distancing. There was an absolute crush as we all, with our great zombie minds thinking alike, stocked up for an at-home St. Patrick’s Day.

It was comparable to the recent toilet paper frenzy. Only Irish whiskey ain’t cheap, so there wasn’t the same potential for hogging all the product.

C2018 RedBreastThe item we snagged? Redbreast 12-year-old single pot still Irish whiskey. MFI, all the raving I did yesterday about Writer’s Tears, you can multiply. Redbreast is a gorgeously balanced single pot still whiskey, exemplary in every way, and the obvious darling of critics.

On the nose, Redbreast is nutty and caramel-rich with notes of dried fruit and vanilla.

On the palate, Redbreast lands sumptuously with rich and full-bodied nut-and-dried-fruit notes and a long, lingering finish. It is insanely big, like a zombie apocalypse erupting in your mouth (substituting glorious aromas/tastes for brain matter).

If I can get this bottle open, and if my parents become too incapacitated by COVID-19 to notice me do it, I’m gonna pound the bottle in one sitting.

Writer’s Tears—because it’s still St. Patrick’s Day, dammit

My fellow inebriates,

First we got sick.

Then they closed the borders.

Then they shut down the bars.

Now they’ve closed the schools…indefinitely.

In adjusting to this new normal, I almost forgot it’s St. Patrick’s Day. Thankfully, I have some liquor to cry my bear tears into.

C2017 Writer's TearsWriter’s Tears Copper Pot Still ($63 at my local booze store) is a blend of single malt and single pot still Irish whiskies that’s aged in American bourbon barrels, resulting in a mild, smooth flavour. It’s golden in the glass and slightly leggy.

On the nose Writer’s Tears is subtle but well layered with apples, vanilla and hints of citrus. It has an undeniable freshness to it that’s at odds with the image of a miserable writer confined to an attic. Perhaps the tearful writer in question is a young bear whose paws are too effing useless to punch the keys without his parents’ help.

On the palate Writer’s Tears is rewarding—you get all those lovely orchard notes along with sweet honey and a more muted array of delicately layered spice and floral contributions. The mouthfeel is smooth and coating without being cloying.

If you’re stuck in your attic or basement or even your kitchen, desperately trying to write a novel or come up with a witty tweet, you should break out the Writer’s Tears. And if you don’t have any, you should run to the liquor store and purchase some, because—OMG, my fellow inebriates—what if they shut that down?