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It’s a fact that many corporations communicate their message to the consuming public as though we’re all children.
Hurry! This sale won’t last long!
Yes it will. I’ve driven past your establishment five hundred times over the course of several years and that banner has always been there. Of course, if you’re pitching to procrastinators, and by “long” you mean a decade, then okay. Still, your sign is strangely similar to something parents might be found saying to their kids.
If you do that one more time, you’re going to be in big trouble!
If by “one more time” you mean five hundred more times, then get comfortable, because it’s going to be a very long car ride before any of the youngsters start feeling trouble’s heat.
We’re #1 in satisfaction!
What a fantastical claim for all who’ve been served by this company! They must be well-tuned to what we’re experiencing out here in the trenches! Still, something doesn’t feel quite right. I could swear I’ve heard other companies stake the same claim at the top of the satisfaction mount. And not to mention, it reminds me of something my wife said to our youngest daughter while walking along at Disney Springs in Orlando, Florida.
“Momma,” the little girl droned while pressing on a portion of her cheek, “this part of my face hurts.”
“Mine does, too,” Jennifer replied. “Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” she whimpered, and continued in stride.
“What did Evelyn say is hurting her?” I leaned over to ask.
“I don’t know,” Jennifer said, her swiftness of response no different with me than with her offspring.
Overhearing her mother’s response, Evelyn turned back to her, “I thought you said yours hurts, too!”
“This part of my face,” she said, pointing to the same place as before.
“Mine hurts, too, honey. Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”
For the record, I shared this story with my wife before sharing it with you, and lest she be considered the kind of mother who remains carefree while her daughter has a stroke, she clarified that Evelyn had previously been making funny faces with her siblings. One rather contorted expression required the young girl to pinch and pull her cheeks while sticking out her tongue. Apparently, she did this over and over again. Naturally, her cheeks were sore.
Anyway, I know for a fact there are distilleries that communicate with the public this way, too. They carelessly slap words like “rare” and “crafted” and “aged” on their labels. Some are even bold enough to put the word “whiskey” on the side of a product that’s little more than ethanol with caramel coloring added at the time of bottling. Being a relatively inexpensive whiskey, one might think this to be the case with the Cascade Blonde, especially when a marketing skeptic like me sees on one side of its labeling the words “Probably the best whiskey in America,” and on the other side, a somewhat gimmicky proposition for using the edition’s cork as a fishing bobber.
But set aside your cynicism. Cascade Blonde is a really great dram.
First off, with regard to the labeling, any practical ideas for the usage of the bottle and cork after it’s emptied is something to be well considered. It suggests a mindfulness for the joys in life beyond the whiskey given. I like that. Thinking this way, I started using the corks from all of my empties as Christmas ornaments. I did the same with my daughter’s old Type 1 diabetes devices. The instruction as to how one might use Cascade Blonde’s bright yellow cork for catching fish is a great idea.
Additionally, by using the word “probably,” the producers of this dram communicate honestly with the consumer. They let us decide its place among American whiskies. They encourage investigation, and so by a careful nosing, one can discover for his or herself that the whiskey is indeed quite nice. Crisply light, it sends up subtle wafts of peppery vanilla. It’s pleasantly easy.
Investigating further, the Cascade Blonde is reminiscent of a Bourbon and Irish whiskey blend. I sensed a sour corn mash, but I also noticed the tang of something metallic. This sounds weird, but in truth, it wasn’t a bad combination. Coming together, it leaves behind the pepper from the nosing, but pulls the vanilla onto the palate, and in the process, adds ginger and little bit of citrus sour.
The finish is barely oaky, and like the nose, is extraordinarily light. There’s very little burn in the throat. It’s refreshing enough to make this a flask sipper while knee deep and casting a line in one’s favorite stream.
I’ll conclude by emphasizing that I’m not much of a salesman. And yet, I’ll dare to herald that this whiskey is at least in the top ten with regard to satisfaction. I might even risk asserting that at its current price tag of about $25, you should hurry up and add it to your collection because such a sale won’t last long!