Happy St. Patrick's Day! The Irishman Single Malt

March 17 this year is the 13th anniversary of the day I met, and started dating, my husband (we've been married close to 9 years now).  As the story goes, we were the only people in the campus pub at quarter-past-noon on St. Patrick's day, and we were both drinking Guinness.  It was a match made by the Good Saint himself, as my fella explained it to his mother, who may or may not have differing opinions of the issue.

Anyhow, seeing as the propitious day was looming, I went to the liquor store the other day to purchase a four-pack of draught cans of Guinness.  However, since the aforementioned day was looming a tad too... loomily, they were sold out.  Whisky Girl was not about to settle for the "Irish Red" beer that was available , so I headed over the vintages section and, after some eeny-meeny-miney consideration, I picked up a bottle of The Irishman.

At $59.95, it wasn't the $82 that I also spent on the Triple-Distilled Hazelburn CV that also somehow ended up under my arm on the way to the cash register (and which I'll review another day), so it's a fair gamble, right?  Right.

So, on to the evaluation: 

It's got a pretty bottle, but I'm nervous about getting the label off to add to my file-card collection.  Nice colour -- but then, they all have a nice colour, don't they?  This whiskey has legs, too.  Legs that should be wearing real silk stockings, I tell ya! 

On the nose, it smells like whiskey.  Okay, see, I admit to not having much of a nose for details.  I get kind of overwhelmed by the alcohol and the excitement.  I understand that smell is important, but I don't buy whiskey to smell, I buy it to drink.  Best guess, it smells kind of flowery, maybe a bit of lemon or other citrus.

On the tongue, it's really very yummy.  A bit "warming" but pretty smooth.  I taste butterscotch and honey, maybe a bit of ginger or something?  There's a woody or nutty undertone that balances the whole thing nicely.  Finishing, it fades away slowly and gracefully but doesn't do as some do.  That is, I didn't notice a change that hit me with another flavour after I swallowed. 

In short, I'll be happy to work my way through this bottle over the next little while, and would certainly buy another for myself or as a gift.

Hubby and I enjoyed a glass mid-afternoon.  Then I enjoyed another around dinner time.  Finally, it was time to hit the town!  My dearly beloved had, this afternoon, picked up tickets for a play he knew I wanted to see (400 Kilometers, by Drew Hayden Taylor), so we headed downtown in time for a drink at the pub before the show.  It was a coin flip between the Bushmills and the Jamieson's.  I ordered us a pair of doubles of the former.  Not as enjoyable as The Irishman, but drinkable.  

We hiked up the hill a bit early for the play, but Lo!  They have a licensed lounge! Huzzah. A pair of Miller Genuine Drafts for a chaser, and we headed for our seats to laugh our pants off until intermission (when it was time for a top-up with a bit of Glenfiddich 12) and then back in to laugh more and end by shedding a few tears -- okay, well, he didn't actually spill tear, but I leaked out a few. 

By then, of course, I was hungry, and I still hadn't had my Guinness.  Back to the pub!  By now it was full.  Well, actually, there were lots of empty seats, but apparently they belonged to people who were outside smoking -- seat-holding for smokers is another rant for another day.  Wanting to keep jovial, we leaned up against the end of the bar, and ordered a tray of the best nachos in town, a pint of Guinness, and a glass of water for my dear driver, who bravely contended with the pea-soup fog to get me home safely.

 Another successful liquor purchase, and another successful celebration of St. Patrick's Day.   That's enough luck for me.  

Cheers!