Rye Resurgent

There's an interesting article in The Atlantic about the resurgence of rye whiskey over the past few years in these United States.  It may be the article is only interesting to those of us who enjoy a dram or two on occasion and you know who you are.  I thoroughly enjoyed the piece and you might, as well.  Here's a screen-cap of the first few grafs...

Bulleit... my favorite rye... gets a shout-out in the article.  That said, it's been a few months since a bottle o' Bulleit rye has graced my likker locker and the spirit is sorely missed.  It appears the Cannon Class VI is NOT a "decent liquor store" as defined by The Atlantic and more's the pity.  The incompetent management at the Class VI store can't even get Bulleit by special order... and I've tried.  Well, I suppose there's always the inter-tubes, eh?

Update, 1600 hrs:  I'm just in from Cannon Airplane Patch where we did the usual, customary, and reasonable things, which is to say pick up meds from the pharmacy, restock the larder at the commissary, and stop at the Class VI for beer.  While we were at the Class VI we took the opportunity to BITCH about that long-overdue special order for Bulleit rye, long and loud.  The management was all apologetic, saying that no, they hadn't forgotten me, and yes they were still working the order but it's a lot harder these days to special order stuff.  I didn't bother to ask WHY it's harder to fill a special order these days, not wanting yet another chorus of excuses.  Still and even, the woman said she would update me by phone later on this afternoon.  We shall see.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack and Broadening XLVIII

The music, first.  Anders Osborne with a brilliant suggestion...

Well, yeah... why dontcha meet me in New Mexico?  Hell, I'll even drive up to Santa Fe if'n ya don't wanna hang in P-Ville.

On the broadening front... I'm looking forward to tonight's after dinner whiskey hour, because o' this:

Yup.  We scored our bottle o' Bulleit Rye this afternoon when we went out to Cannon Airplane Patch for to do the UCR bi-monthly commissary run and likker-locker re-supply.  And yeah, that would be our second bottle o' Bulleit bourbon.  I kinda like this stuff.

I asked the manageress at the Class VI about the possibility of stocking Bulleit Rye as a "normal" offering and got a "I'll ask our manager" in reply.  I also expressed my displeasure at the recent price increases on all their scotch and told her in no uncertain terms that I was NOT willing to pay those inflated prices.  I got a nod and sympathetic look in response, along with another "I'll try and find out why those increases happened."  Well, OK... I suppose that's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

And now we must consider what's for dinner.

Just Checkin' In, Part Deux

The above is what we did today.  The below is something of a rant.

We had a hard day but we're nearly better now.  Witness:

That would be YrHmblScrb, ensconced in a sleazy motel room, smoking a Macanudo Gold, and drinking good whiskey... Bulleit Rye... from a freakin' plastic cup.  I don't care about the aesthetics, I'm simply glad to be off the road and dried out.

Once again, very briefly.  We began our day at the much more reasonable hour of 0730 local at Little Rock Airplane Patch and kinda-sorta ended it at 2030L in Wytheville, VA.  I say kinda-sorta coz we're not done yet, in that there WILL be a second cigar and more rye to be had before we call it a night.  It's the in between start and finish that makes it a hard day, Gentle Reader.  We'd planned to call it quits once we hit Bristol, Tennessee... about an eight or nine hour drive from LRAFB... but unbeknown to us it's a NASCAR weekend in Bristol.  Which means those guys that only turn left and all their adoring fans have commandeered every gotdamned hotel room within a 20-mile radius of Bristol and those that MIGHT still be available can be had for a princely sum and an appendage or two.  I said "thanks, but no thanks" and decided to motor on until we were out of NASCAR range.

And then The Deity At Hand, who must be a turn-left fan, intervened and brought down the deluge upon my head for not paying the proper respect to those inbred baccy-chewing Neanderthals.  Or rather she brought down the deluge on The Dowager Tart's head AND mine later on when we were unloading the car.  I got soaked to the very bone.

I MAY have been caught up in harder rain in my life, but I really cannot remember exactly when that might have been.  It was bad, Gentle Reader, SO bad that normally fearless truckers were driving 40 mph with their four-way flashers on.  That's BAD.

So.  We white-knuckled it for about an hour in the downpour and got off I-81 at Wytheville in search of a hotel room at any price.  We lucked out, in that the hotel is reasonable (read as: less than $100.00, much less) and OMG, no kidding, we have a smoking room.  I didn't think such things existed in this PC world of ours, but thank The Deity At Hand (whom I just cast aspersions towards) they do.  You can see that we are taking advantage of our good fortune.

Tomorrow should be an easy day in that I'm only about four to five hours away from our first end-point.  I sure as Hell hope the WX is better.

A Sight for Sore Eyes...

... and a treat for deprived taste buds:

That would be a half-dozen bottles of Bulleit Rye.  I got a call from the Cannon Class VI store about an hour ago notifying me that my special order for Bulleit had FINALLY come in (it's been at least three months since I placed the order).  The store received a case o' the stuff so I went ahead and bought six... coz ya never know when they'll run out.  This otta hold me for a week or three.  Or a few days, if my name was Virgil.

After Dinner Whiskey Hour is gonna be SO much better than usual this evening.

Tonight's After Dinner Whiskey Hour Soundtrack

A lil blues, Led Zep style...

I-I, I can't quit you, babe
So I'm gonna put you down for a while
I said, I can't quit you, babe
I guess I got to put you down for a while

Well... that "while" is over.  What do I mean by that?  This:

I re-supplied the whiskey component of the Likker Locker today and just for grins and giggles I looked at the Scotch prices.  Do you remember this from last summer, Gentle Reader?

I'm just in from a run out to the Class VI store on Cannon Airplane Patch and was shocked at the price increases on Scotch... so much so that I refuse to resupply at those prices.  Johnnie Walker Green sold at $44.00 last week and is now $54 and change; you can find it at Amazon for $47.10.  JW Gold is worse... it's up to $84 freakin' Yankee Dollars a bottle now.  Aiiieee.

Which makes me wonder... what's up with the Class VI?  They're supposed to be cheaper than the civilian market and they are, if I shop locally.  But not on the net.

So.  We're gonna be bourbon drinkers... and that would be Bulleit bourbon... for a while, at least until I sort out my options.  I see a Manhattan in my very near future.

I haven't bought a bottle of Scotch since last July but I broke down and did so today, mainly because the price o' love malt has come back down to a place we mere mortals can afford, which is to say a lil over 40 Yankee Dollars, or pretty close to Bulleit Rye (I bought a bottle of that, too).  So... I can't quit ya Babe, especially when you're so deliciously cheap.  But NOT tawdry.

In closing... is it sacrilege to drink malt out of a bourbon glass?  I think not.

Today's Happy Hour Soundtrack...

Robert Earl Keen...



I can't say that I relate to the lyrics in this song... when push comes to shove... but I've always identified with 'em, which is varying only by the smallest of degrees.

It's a brilliant day here on The High Plains o' New Mexico.  You can't feel it, Gentle Reader, but this might give ya a clue:

So: it's danged near perfect, innit?  We mixed up a batch o' Manhattans for this occasion which looked a lot like this:

Never mind the fact I cut off my head... I just need longer arms.  That said...those Manhattans are done now, alas.  We're just slightly too lazy to mix up another batch o' the same, especially when we can pour some Bulleit Rye on the rocks and be done with it.  That makes us happy, too.

The Afterlife

I had a weird thought while sitting on the verandah last evening, enjoying a couple o' few fingers o' Bulleit Rye, a Partagas Spanish Rosado, the rain falling in the vertical (as opposed to the normal slashing, horizontal sort we usually get) and the coolness that came with said rain.  Altogether a rather marvelous experience, heightened by our soundtrack, which was the Glenn Miller station on Pandora.  My thoughts turned to my parents, Mom in particular, and my thoughts ALWAYS turn to my parents when I hear Big Band music.  So then it occurred to me that I might not be too far removed from seein' them again, assuming there's an afterlife.  Our mind began to wander on that topic... the afterlife... and we wondered about Heaven, Paradise, and other possible destinations, not the least of which was "how do we get there?"  And what's there, there?  Is Heaven one big place where all souls congregate?  Consider this, from The Wiki:

The CIA's World Factbook gives the world population as 7,021,836,029 (July 2012 est.) and the distribution of religions as Christian 33.39% (of which Roman Catholic 18.85%, Protestant 8.15%, Orthodox 4.96%, Anglican 1.26%), Muslim 22.74%, Hindu 10.8%, Buddhist 6.77%, Sikh 0.35%, Jewish 0.22%, Baha'i 0.11%, other religions 10.95%, non-religious 9.66%, atheists 2.01%. (2010 est.)

I KNOW some of those religions have a theology that excludes non-believers (we won't name names), so one kinda has to think there are several different neighborhoods in Heaven, including gated communities and a ghetto or two.  There's also the problem of atheists, and I assume those sorts simply go to ground and stay there.  We Buddhists, OTOH, know we have to come back and do it over until we get it right.  While we're on that subject, I'm thinking Nirvana is prolly a VERY small space, inhabited by the Buddha and a few of his minions; that's coz most of us will NEVER get it right.  I'm hoping that I got enough of it right this time around to come back as a woman, specifically as that "hooker with a heart o' gold."  (We've gone on about that before, but I can't find the link)

Devotions at El Casa Inmóvil de Pennington

I had more thoughts on this subject, particularly about the trip's beginning, wherein The Deity At  Hand (or one of her staff) announces... 

"Welcome to The Celestial Paradise Port.  Christians report to Concourse A, where you'll find your gate listed by denomination on the monitors.  Muslims report to Concourse B... Sunnis to the left and Shi'as to the right, please.  Hindus go to Concourse C.  You Buddhists aren't going anywhere just yet, and a few of you will become bugs running around Concourse B.  All other Buddhists should check in at the Wheel of Life for gate assignments.  Thank you for your attention and have a nice afterlife."

Or sumthin' like that.

In other theological news...  I had a conversation with SN1 the other night and he mentioned he forgot to tell me he picked up some pretty good incense, which he burns in his office.  He also mentioned DIL Erma stuck her head in the office while he was burnin' some of that stuff and said sumthin' to the effect of "It smells like your father's house in here."

Well.  I suppose that's preferable to a house that smells like stale beer and cigar smoke, eh?  Erma's right, though.  We do burn a bit o' incense, which is a part o' our daily devotions.  We have to keep the protocols if we hope not to come back as a bug in Concourse B.

Update, 1430 hrs:  Great Good Friend Lin sends this along with the suggestion that I update this post with same.



Heh.  Oh, that's GOOD.

One Minor Complaint and One Good Thing

We're back to this again.

Just in from yet another trip out to Cannon Airplane Patch to do the usual, customary, and reasonable things: restock the larder and the likker locker.  I need to get a handle on this "eating" thing; it's getting to the point where I spend waaaay more on food than I do on booze and beer.  That said, my monthly food bill is about half of my aggregate spend on booze, beer, and cigars... so mebbe I'm OK, after all.

While we're on about booze... there's still no 18-year old Glenlivet in stock at the Class VI store, which makes a lil over two weeks they've been out of stock.  Add in the fact the Class VI "can't get" Johnnie Walker Green any longer and the fact that Bulleit Rye has gone missing as well all adds up to a significant measure of discontent with the organization.  I suppose I COULD find both of these treats out there on the inter-tubes but the prices, Gentle Reader... the prices.  OTOH, the Class VI's price advantage goes right out the window if my favorite tipples aren't on the shelves.

It's always sumthin'.

In other news... on our way out to Cannon we were struck by how GREEN it is here on THPoNM right now, which is to say greener than I've ever seen it.  We've had well over six and a half inches of rain so far this year, which also makes this year the wettest year in my feeble ol' memory (which would include all 12 of the years I've lived here).  To put that in perspective, our average annual precipitation is only 16.81 inches per year and 8.7 inches of that is snow.  I really should have made a Cheesy Video to show you, Gentle Reader.  Then again, those of you who don't live in arid climes would be much less than impressed.  So there's that.

Just a Quickie

I'm recently in from the day's errands, which included a fruitless attempt at obtaining Industrial Strength Pain Killers from the Cannon Airplane Patch pharmacy, where I was informed that they don't carry Percocet.  Say what?  Nope... they don't.  So it was off to Wally-World to buy the required drugs (buy: as in a modest co-pay of ten Yankee Dollars) instead of getting them on Uncle Sam's dole.  

Drugs.  Some better than others.

That was disappointing, but I swung by the Class VI on my way off the base and found that The Management had answered my request by stocking Bulleit Rye as a normal offering, so no further special orders are required.  I also noted with great pleasure that Woodford Reserve is also on the shelf again... and noted with FURTHER pleasure that the combined price of a bottle of each of the foregoing is only six Yankee Dollars more than a single bottle of the formerly preferred Johnny Walker Green.

So, did I even go LOOK at the scotch?  Hell, no.

In further alcoholic news... I almost fulfilled the terms of the post-op 24-hour alcohol ban.  Almost.  I skipped Happy Hour yesterday in favor of a nap but weakened and had a couple o' fingers o' Woodford Reserve after dinner.  I DID keep the cigar ban, but we won't last the mandated 36 hours.  As a s'matter o' fact we shall fire one up and crack a Sammy Adams Octoberfest soon after we hit "publish" on this piece o' drivel.

One last thang:  Blog-Buddy Jim has been through all this crap significant Adventures In Modern Dentistry, too.  He posted a re-run thoroughly describing his experiences in his inimitable, which is to say hilarious, way (and made me blush by dedicating the piece to me).  You should go read... it's better than good.

Tonight's ADWH Soundtrack...

Delbert...

Like a macho man, I said I'll fix it myself
I can tell already I'm gonna need some help
Now I gotta get it worked on
I gotta get it worked on
Yeah, I'm gon' have to get me some professional help

[...]

I went down to New Orleans to see Miss Laroux
She said You're too far gone there ain't a thing I can do
But you better get it worked on
Better get it worked on
I can give you a number of someone to call

D'ya still have that number, Del?  I have a friend that might could use it.

Apropos o' nuthin'... I've discovered the best way to drink this Bulleit stuff is on the rocks.  I never took my scotch with ice, bein' sumthin' of a traditionalist in this space, I only took it neat or with a splash o' water.  But ice and bourbon seem made for each other, in that the ice mellows out the burn and makes bourbon a rather pleasant drink.  Last evening I took my first dose neat and the second with a splash, the results of which were less than impressive.  Tonight's a different story and I think this stuff will grow on me.  I can't wait for the rye to arrive...