To bourbon or to scotch, that is the question.
The answer, of course, is both.
Now I have always been a scotch person first. (Actually, that’s not completely true. I did start with Irish whisky before moving to scotch.) My wife, on the other hand, comes from the other side of the bourbon-scotch spectrum. Her family hails from Texas and her father drinks bourbon and Tennessee whiskey, so this was to be expected.
But after seventeen years of marriage our tastes have inevitably influenced each other, to our mutual nuanced enjoyment. Unlike some of my other whiskey explorations, I cannot recall exactly how my path in bourbon began, only that it initiated through her. If she would order a bourbon, I would of course try it. A dram here, a dram there while out and about, then a bottle here, a bottle there entering the collection at home. What began with me trying to please her by breaking up the constant influx of scotch into our house with a bottle more to her taste soon became an excuse for me to further my own adventures in that most iconic of America whiskies.
The pandemic, surprisingly, advanced the love of bourbon for the both of us. Trapped at home, temporarily freed from the finagling of child care so that one of us could escape cross town, with loosened alcohol delivery laws, we took part in as many as virtual tastings as we possibly could, the kits sampled spanning the entire gamut of world whiskies. Across that spectrum, certain tasting of each genre stand out; for bourbon, that was an Old Forester event sponsored by Seven Grand LA’s Spirit Guide Society. Five whiskies, the 1870, the 1897, the 1910, and the 1920 editions, plus the birthday bourbon.
Needless to say, we bought one of the twelve bottles of the Seven Grand single cask offered for sale (a bottle otherwise only available at the bar itself).
Even once we could leave the house again and we started taking driving distance family trips, bourbon played a part, for we would always order a local bottling if such was offered at a restaurant where we ate. The second such mini vacation – and the first where we consistently ate out instead of ordering in and eating at the Airbnb – was to Morro Bay on California’s Central Coast. True to form, we came home with a bottle, in this case Wicked Harvest Pistachio Bourbon. Always something new!
Over the years my wife has delved deeper and deeper into scotch, similar to how I have ventured further and further into bourbon. That having been said she is still not enamored of peat, especially Islay peat – with the rather surprising exception of Port Charlotte. As for me, I shall always be a bigger fan of spicy, more rye-like bourbons than those of the sweeter variety, although I do appreciate those, too.
We have promised each other that we will someday traverse the Kentucky bourbon trail. What better than to drop off the kids with those same grandparents in Texas and then escape for some quality husband and wife time in the Bluegrass State and all the wonders that bourbon has to offer?
The couple that drinks together stays together? Maybe…
