The Lodge is in Europe this week, visiting friends and catching the trends. In Paris, we had the great fortune to try a new place, owned by Americans and making incredible food at their restaurant and wine bar.
Many tapas dishes later, the third bottle of wine arrives. Dear readers, the senses are alive and fully active at this stage of wine consumption. The vision, crystal clear and judgement supreme. Facing us at the bar is a tidy, but global offer of whiskeys. The faithful Irish and Scotch. A Laphroag. Japanese Suntory. Elijah Craig. A nice American small-batch Hudson. Pappy Van..wait, what's that? Excuse me, is that Pappy Van Winkle. Why yes it is. The story unfolds. Just purchased from a distributer, they missed the chance to buy the 20 year, and had to pay 400 Euros for this, the 23.
Reasonable response- I'd like a glass, please. I calculate that it must be 50 Euros. Well, it's 47 to be exact. The same price as my flight to Milan. If I had to, I'd sweep the floors and wash dishes to pay for this. Fortunately, we have just enough to cover this and the orgy of food that we've just enjoyed.
Where is reason at this hour? It's Pappy Van Winkle, a handsome and rare one that has been elusive. They make only, what, 7000 cases a year. I've never had the chance and may not again. So why not?
Given the same situation, I believe you would do the same, no?
It was, marvelous. Smooth, smokey. Like making out with Mila Kunis. The front end was warm. A bit of oak. Caramel. The flavor lingered. And then it was gone. As fast as it arrived, 10 minutes of bliss.
Our ode to Pappy Van Winkle. Until next time.