Many years ago, lost in the mists of time* we got married on the 13th. Since then we’ve always celebrated the 13th as our anniversary, regardless of month or year. It’s usually a quiet celebration consisting of wishing each other a happy anniversary in the morning and later, in the early evening, sitting somewhere out on our vast estate with several fingers of single malt, or Irish whiskey or a good bourbon and chatting while the sun goes down and the woods transition from day-shift activity to night-shift activity.
As luck would have it, Friday the 13th always falls on our anniversary, and therefore has just never been able to achieve any mental traction.
So to the business at hand and one of the raisin detras of this blog which is to occasionally discuss bourbon: Last evening we celebrated with a glass of Bulleit Bourbon “Frontier Whiskey.” Regardless of taste Bulleit would get high marks just on packaging alone, given its medicine-flask-raised-letters bottle, complete with cork top and old fashioned label. We have no pretensions to connoisseurship around here, but this is how an expert described Bulleit: “smells include rye toast, snack crackers, and brown butter… palate entry is remarkably savory, corny sweet, and nearly honey-like… attractive tastes of buttered popcorn, brown sugar, and nougat expand. Finishes with a spurt of fire and lots of long, corny/grainy tastes.” [from F. Paul Pacult’s Whiskey Review, iWhiskey iPhone app]
We, on the other hand, tend to rate bourbons on a binary scale of zero-to-one, one being good and zero being void of all goodness and undeserving to exist in this universe. We gave Bulleit a one.
*I really wanted to write “in the midst of time” but lost my nerve figuring most folks would assume it was a typo instead of a brilliant play on words. Might be a good title for a sci-fi novel. Oops, a quick visit to Google indicates that it already is the title of a new age sci-fi novel. Plus there’s a number of blogs that have already used the phrase, some seemingly aware of the word-play conceit, but others just blissfully ignorant of their mistake. So never mind.