40%, @angels_portion, angelsportion, bird poop, caskmates, door handle, jameson, lutheran, review, scotch, stout edition, thoma, van, Whiskey, whisky, windshield
My van is huge. There are about two hundred square feet of possible target sites—the roof, the windshield, the hatch—but you managed to drop one right on the driver side door handle.
And it wasn’t even an annoying but nevertheless manageable bit of the typical white-black solid resting in a singular spot. It was a spray—a splattering glop—that left no portion of the handle unscathed. It’s like you ate too much fruit and then sought out the worst place on my car to demonstrate that too much fruit does the exact same thing to a bird that it does to a human.
Stupid bird. And what are you doing here, anyway? It’s the dead of winter. Aren’t you supposed to be somewhere south?
So, what do I do until I can clean this off? Climb in through the back hatch? Go in through one of the rear sliding doors and then climb over the console in the middle? Go ahead and use the driver side door and pray that I left the travel wipes and hand sanitizer in the glove box?
Once I figure out how to get into the van, I’m going straight home. I’m going to relax, pour myself a dram, and give thanks that your little gift was the last dig to an already difficult day.
Wait. Not so fast. The docket dram for review tonight is the Jameson Caskmates Stout Edition. I guess we’ll see.
Phew. It’s not exactly bird crap on a door handle, but…
The nose of this cheaper Irish Whiskey is really rather fruity—pears in thick syrup and dried apricot leathers. The palate is far too sweet. I expected the beer barrel finish to tone it down, but it didn’t. It added chocolate, warmed sweet cream, and hops. I liked the hops. The other stuff is too discomposing.
The finish brings along the sweets but shakes them up in a burnt barrel. The char is noticeable as the whiskey exits.
As I said, it’s not exactly bird crap on a door handle, but it’s also not too far from a blurred clump on the windshield that was, with the best of intentions, smeared by the washer fluid and wiper blades. Traveling is doable as long as you can see around the particularly sugary annoyances.