That title is not a randomly generated number string.
Bear with me.
17: That’s how many days are left in the year.
The first 18: This refers to the whisky at hand, J.P. Wiser’s 18-Year-Old Blended Canadian Whisky.
The second 18: This refers to the fact that 18 years ago, this gal and I started dating. These days I call her The Empress of Whisky.
Now.
When I used to do this regularly, I’d tell you a bit about the dram, then a bit about why I chose it and whatnot.
So.
To be bloody blunt about it, J.P. Wiser’s 18-Year-Old Blended Canadian Whisky was the most affordable 18-year-old whisky at the bottle shoppe where The Empress and I found ourselves a couple of evenings ago.
18 years is a significant point in whisky, especially Scotch whisky. Not every distillery has an 18-year-old offering, but if they have an offering beyond the common 10, 12, and 15, it’s likely an 18. I’ve had some quite fine ones over the years.
But.
We’re usually talking three figures.
Which, well, I don’t know your economic standing or spending philosophy, but that’s the point where mine says OUCH.
I don’t doubt the quality, necessarily, but I do begin to doubt — What’s that economic term? Oh, “marginal value.” — the marginal value of the drinking experience beyond the three-digit price threshold.
I’m also reminded of a favorite line from a favorite book, which is:
I passed him the bottle and watched as he decanted two careful fingers. Jimmy de Soto had always said it was sacrilege to sink more than five fingers of single malt on any one occasion. After that, he maintained, you might as well be drinking blended.
— Takeshi Kovacs,
narrator of Altered Carbon by Richard K. Morgan
See, at a certain point, you have to ask yourself why you’re drinking: Is it for the fleeting sensations of taste experienced in the moment, or is it for the butterflies and rainbows in your head afterwards?
It’s okay to say both.
Thing is, if you’re spending into the triple digits per bottle, I think you’d better:
a) Really damn appreciate the dram.
AND
b) Just appreciate the dram, singular, not plural.
So.
This is the point where I bring it all together.
We bought this bottle of 18-year-old J.P. Wiser’s Blended Canadian Whiskey for less than a three-digit price.
Which is fine and understandable because:
a) Canadian whisky isn’t Scotch whisky, in terms of price or quality.
AND
b) Blended whisky — even the aged stuff — isn’t single malt, in terms of price or quality.
Nonetheless, for the act of getting out of the bottle shoppe without dropping a hundo, there was much rejoicing.
But there would have been regardless because, as noted above, The Empress and I have been together for 18 years now.
Which, to those who scoff at dating anniversaries, I say: Avert your eyes. Or learn to have fun. Preferably the second.
Yes, we have a wedding anniversary, and, yes, we observe it. But there’s something simple and pure about marking the point each year when we can add up our total years in one and another’s company, appreciate the fact that we continue to appreciate each other, and have a dram.
And the fact that we’re just fine with a sub-$100 dram for the occasion is just one note of the success and maturity of our 18-year-old relationship.
Or, as The Empress herself put it when we filled our glasses tonight: “We’re not just wiser — we’re J.P. Wiser.”
You can see why I love her.
The dram: J.P. Wiser’s Irish Whiskey, aged 18 years.
The drink: Warm and full and malty-sweet in a way that Canadian whisky often isn’t while still incredibly smooth in the way that Canadian whisky always is.
The dream: This is only the first 18 years.
The toast: To love, of course!
New here? Or just not sure what the hell is going on? Check out yesterday’s post for a few answers. And look! Here’s tomorrow’s post! It’s editing magic!
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