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20160321_204559-1Now, you may have trouble believing what I’m about to share, but it is with firsthand knowledge that I tell you. I know what happened that night because I was there. The creature that I used to regard as something of mist and myth is real.

It was late. The air was cool. The moon was just above the wetland horizon. The sandhill cranes – those evening watchmen who call across the river and through the thicket behind our home – were unusually silent.

The night seemed to be holding its breath. Something was about to happen.

I pulled into the driveway. I was tired, but I was looking forward to releasing the day’s concerns by flexing my writing muscles. Unfortunately, I had a new Bourbon awaiting review – the Bulleit Kentucky Straight Bourbon Frontier Whiskey edition – and with that, I found myself unenthused. I’m not a fan of Bourbon.

I’ve never hidden the fact here at Angelsportion that I have yet to meet a Bourbon that I would ever consider calling my own. A few have come close, enough so to make me feel as though sipping them was much like catching a blurry snapshot of Bigfoot. These have only pried loose the grip of one hand on unbelief, allowing me to partially free-float in a sphere of consideration, allowing for me to cogitate that perhaps the creature was indeed out there and that only time was keeping us from the happenstance encounter that would change everything. But still, there was that one hand – the reasonable, experiential, reluctant hand – and as the days passed from each out-of-focus encounter, its pull continued to draw me back to an earth where no such potion truly existed and the cold day in hell that would occur before I’d ever fully embrace a Bourbon.

Well, it happened that cool evening in my living room. I came face to face with what was once a cryptozoological mystery but was now for this Scotch drinker the discovery of the age.

First, I must report that this elusive little beast of legend strangely emanates something like a mild but also very creamy honey mustard excluding any paprika required by the recipe.

Second, on the tongue, cinnamon is as prominent as it can be, and this not only gives the whiskey a nice little chomp, but it fine-tunes the experience and reveals the hidden gems stored away in the creature’s lair. In one corner, a cache of plums and currants; in another, caramel corn and Italian rye bread for dipping.

Lastly, the finish is splendid. Medium in pace, the honey fades back into folklore, followed along by a buttery rye.

And so, as I began, I must urge you to believe me. I’ve discovered a Bourbon that I can love. It is the Bulleit Frontier Whiskey edition, and I have every intention of keeping and maintaining this specimen as my own.

By the way, I am fully expecting to see a breaking news report soon informing the public that hell placed a rather large online order for coats from Land’s End. Or maybe Target. I expect it to be one of the two.