Category: holidays

2023 Wind-down, 14: Good Cheer

A table with present-wrapping materials and a handy rum beverage.

Look at the picture (if able, or read the description).

<record-scratching>

<beat drops>

<dope lyrics begin>

See, it’s funny because “wrap” and “rap” are homophones.

Or maybe it’s funny because that isn’t my first rum drink today.

Let’s talk about rum.

It’s the first spirit I found a taste for, and these days it’s like an old friend I drop in to check on from time to time.

Our relationship started a loooong time ago, though.

Now, this may surprise you, but for ages — specifically until my 30s — I wasn’t really a drinker at all.

For a good while I even teetotaled, if you can believe it.

However.

Remember that friend I mentioned a couple of days ago? From middle school? Well, funny thing. We both made it to high school and remained friends. Friendly rivals, also, when it came to “who’s best in the band” — which, if you’ve never been part of a high school band a) My regrets, and b) It can be super cutthroat, albeit beneath an almost-Midwestern level of friendliness. 

Anyway, one night we were hanging out at his place with his parents away, and he brought out a hidden gem, gifted to him by his uncle: a bottle of Pusser’s Rum.

Now, if you don’t know about Pusser’s Rum, the quick version is: It’s made from the same recipe used by the British Royal Navy for the daily rum ration until they decided — in 1970! — that maaaaybe it wasn’t a good idea to keep handing out a tot of rum to every sailor on the daily, especially given modern sailors spent a bit less time splicing braces and reefing sails than, you know, maintaining nuclear generators.

Pusser’s Rum was never available to the public until after Black Tot Day, when the Royal Navy sold the formula to a private company in exchange for an ongoing contribution to the Royal Navy Sailors’ Fund.

Where was I?

Right. High school.

So my friend brought out the Pusser’s, along with some official Pusser’s Painkiller Mix, and my love of rum was born.

I can still recall the numbering sensation on my lips from that first sip. Magic.1

I’ve since moved on to “more sophisticated” drinking endeavors2 like Scotch whisky, but that’s where it started. With rum. And I still — as evidenced above — enjoy the occasional rum drink.

Now.

You don’t need Painkiller mix, though if you’re going that route, get Pusser’s.

A Painkiller, per the originator, is made thusly:

  • 2 oz. Pusser’s Rum
  • 4 oz. pineapple juice
  • 1 oz. orange juice
  • 1 oz. cream of coconut
  • Dash of nutmeg

Mix in a shaker with ice, pour into a swanky glass over crushed ice, garnish with a little umbrella and some fruit, if you’re into that.

Pairs well with wrapping.

Or rapping.

What I’m drinking: Pusser’s Rum. Sort of.

What it’s like: It’s sometimes marketed as a “sipping rum,” and I’ve even seen it referred to as “the single malt of rum.” Part of the charm of Pusser’s — aside from the neat historicals — is its manufacture in wooden pot stills and its aging (for a minimum of three years) in charred oak casks. That’s a lot more trouble than most rum makers go to for their products, and the difference shows in the way you can sip Pusser’s neat like a whisky, which is what I usually do, except when the need for a Painkiller arises, as it does during the holidays.

Today’s toast: To all of us covered in bits of paper and ribbon, wondering where the scissors went and who this just-wrapped present we forgot to label is actually for.

Just checking in? See yesterday’s post for more, specifically more about Bruce Campbell.

  1. Quick note for the “I can’t believe he’s writing about underage drinking!” crowd: It happens. Pretending it doesn’t isn’t helpful. For the record, we didn’t overindulge, much less do anything so stupid as drive anywhere. ↩︎
  2. Let’s talk some time about the social stigma toward some drinking behaviors versus the shoulder-shrugging toward others. ↩︎

2023 Wind-down, 16: Comfort Watches

Fireplace, with whisky and my Comfort Non-Watch.

Over at his site, John Scalzi is spending December doing his own sort of Wind-down, though he isn’t calling it such. Specifically, he’s writing about a movie each day — a “comfort watch” that he goes back to time and again.

I like the idea. I could maybe pass a month that way myself.

Today, though, I’m instead going to tell you about a Comfort Non-Watch.

So, I’m a big fan of Bruce Campbell, have been ever since a friend of mine in middle school invited me over to his house, which was near a video store, which we went to, where his friend at the register totally ignored the fact that we were well under 18 and rented us Evil Dead.

If you don’t know Evil Dead, I’ll just go ahead and tell you it’s the best low-(almost no)-budget made-in-a-random-cabin-in-Tennessee-by-two-lifelong-friends-then-in-their-twenties-with-a-camera-and-a-dream horror film ever.

The next weekend, my friend and I watched Evil Dead 2, but, like the movie itself, that’s another story.

Anyway, since that fateful underage viewing of Evil Dead, I’ve made an effort to watch most everything Bruce Campbell has been in. It’s the rare case where I follow an actor rather than a writer or director. He’s just damned good, certainly the best B-movie actor of his generation.

There are a few things I’ve missed along the way, though.

I’ve seen most of his films, and most of the TV series he’s been in1, but the gaps, naturally, bug me.

One of those gaps is Running Time, a low-budget, black-and-white heist film from 1997 with a running time of 70 minutes.

I mention the running time because the entire film, in keeping with its title, is presented in real-time and as one continuous take.

Now, I’d heard of this, of course, and it was on my “get to it eventually” list — where it had so much company it would never want for conversation — but I hadn’t gone to the trouble of tracking down a copy of the DVD, which is rare and also the only way to watch the film. (I scoured every streaming service. Nobody has it.)

Then I found out that the role Campbell plays — Carl, the just-released-from-prison thief who gets pulled in for a job — is one of his top five2 favorite roles from his entire career.3

Well, then.

Off to eBay I went, and after some searching and waiting I scored a still-in-the-shrink-wrap copy for less than the cost of a good bottle of whisky.

And it’s been sitting on the shelf since, waiting for its moment, my Comfort Non-Watch, that movie which I am excited to see but hold in reserve for a day when I really need it.

Here’s what I’m drinking today: J.P. Wiser’s 18-Year-Old Canadian Whisky.

What a minute!

Yes, that’s what I was drinking yesterday.

But why?

Well, a few reasons, starting with the fact that I didn’t really feel like cracking into something else this evening and ending with the fact that if I don’t get ahead of The Empress of Whisky I might not get another pour off this bottle.

Will you have something new tomorrow?

Probably not. I’ve got some family holiday shenanigans to get through, which, while they may very well involve whisky, might not leave me with time to write about it.

I’ve decided not to push myself the way I used to when it comes to writing these. I’d like to have one each day, now that I’ve started, but I’m not going to eat that pressure this year.

If I do have whisky this weekend, I’ll take pictures and catch you up later.

Check out yesterday’s post for a story about my dating anniversary, as well as my tasting notes on J.P. Wiser’s 18-Year-Old Canadian Whisky. Or skip ahead to a tale of rum.

  1. I’ve been making my way through Burn Notice off and on this year — it’s not bad, if formulaic; Campbell is excellent as Sam Axe — and I’ll eventually force myself to watch the episodes of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys and Xena: Warrior Princess in which he guest-starred as Autolycus, King of Thieves. ↩︎
  2. Carl Matushka in Running Time; Brisco County, Jr. in The Adventures of Brisco County, Jr.; Sam Axe in Burn Notice; Ash Williams in the Evil Dead films and the TV show Ash vs Evil Dead; and Elvis in Bubba Ho-Tep, a criminally underrated film featuring an aged Elvis and a black man who claims to be John F. Kennedy facing off against an ancient — is there any other kind? — Egyptian mummy in an east Texas nursing home. ↩︎
  3. I know this because I heard the words from Bruce Campbell’s own mouth when I saw him at Bruce-O-Rama at The Caverns this summer. He did Q&A, ran a quiz show, and introduced a screening of Evil Dead 2. It was awesome. ↩︎

Whisky Wind-down, 6: Rest Ye Weary Dead

A bottle of The Sexton single malt Irish whisky sits next to a glass filled with same, on a mantel with red holiday garland.

Today’s dram: The Sexton, single malt Irish whisky

Today’s tasting notes: Aroma is sweet and woodsy. Flavor is smooth and slightly sweet, with a warming bite in the finish.

It’s different. I don’t drink a lot of Irish single malts — they’re not terribly common, compared to Scottish single malts — but I enjoy one now and again, especially as they are a departure from standard Irish whisky. This one reminds me a bit of Highland Scottish whisky; probably I’m drawing that comparison from the sherry cask aging used here.

All in all, it’s enjoyable; I’ll probably keep this around for a cold night by the fire. Or, perhaps, I’ll fill a flask for company on a particular walk.

Today’s thoughts: The bottle lore on this one speaks of a graveyard by the River Bush, from which you can sometimes detect the aroma of distilling spirits.

It’s been awhile since I’ve walked a graveyard, but it was an old hobby of mine.

It’s an autumn sort of hobby, the sight of nature in decline serving to accentuate the stark stone reminders that mark our mutual finish line.

Works in winter, too, though. Then the cold breeze bites and the empty trees shiver, and everything says your time will come, too.

Many years I’ve sought such places in these final days of the year, when the festivities fast fade and the year’s last gasp is in the air.

It’s quite the melancholy week — a transitory time fit for reflecting upon the expiring year, all its good, all its ill.

It all starts again soon enough.

Today’s toast: To the dead: beyond the need for a dram, past all ambitions great or small, gone from the wheel.

Whisky Wind-down, 7: Holiday’s End

A bottle of Seagram's VO Gold sits next to a pair of glasses, in front of a Christmas tree.

Today’s dram: Seagram’s VO Gold, 8-Year-Old

Today’s tasting notes: It’s smooth Canadian whisky, a tad sweet, with just a touch of bite. Finishes clean and easy.

Today’s thoughts: For most of my adult life, whenever I’ve been home for the holidays, we end up at my dad’s home by late afternoon and stay there for dinner and dessert. And once the blizzard of grandchildren and presents has passed, and things quiet down, Dad usually asks if anyone feels like a Christmas drink. For as long as I can remember, for him, that means a couple of ounces of Seagram’s VO Gold, over ice, topped with Coca-Cola.

The older I get, the more I appreciate this ending to a long Christmas day. I’m even getting to like the VO Gold, minus the cola.

Today’s toast: To holiday traditions, holiday tipples, and holiday tipple traditions.

Whisky Wind-down, 8: Happy Place

A glass of Crown Royal rye whisky stands next to an empty mini-bottle on a yellow KitchenAid stand mixer.

Today’s dram: Crown Royal, rye

Today’s tasting notes: How do you make traditionally easy-going Canadian whisky bite back? Mix in rye.

This one is 90% rye, though, so maybe it’s actually the Canadian bit that’s smoothing an otherwise harsh rye?

At any rate, it’s a pseudo-sweet, biting-but-smooth dram, just right for a nightcap at the end of a long day.

Today’s thoughts: The long day was mostly in the kitchen, which is one of my favorite places, with two of my favorite people, Mom and The Empress of Whisky.

Between us, we produced two varieties of cupcakes, lemon chiffon pie, lemon syrup, a chicken and pasta dinner, and pizza dough for the traditional lunch tomorrow.

We also played games, told stories, went shopping, and assembled furniture.

All in all, great day.

Today’s toast: To the holiday hustle; it’s the good kind of tiring.