(Untitled)

Jun 16, 2010 01:47

In the midst of enduring sickness, life does provide one saving grace.

And its name is Taylor Fladgate 20.

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johnny9fingers June 16 2010, 10:54:44 UTC
Port gives me awful hangovers: even the best stuff. When it comes to dessert wines I prefer the high end Rieslings or posh Sauternes; when the budget stretches to such things, that is. Fewer headaches next morning, I find.

Whisky* is my current tipple, along with good wine, good beer, and anything else this side of naphtha that actually tastes mostly unlike petrol: I suppose this could explain the hangovers.

*Laphroaig quarter cask, Ardbeg Supernova, Lagavulin 21 yo, or Talisker 18yo for preference.

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quoththecraven June 17 2010, 11:34:37 UTC
Any advice on a good brandy?

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johnny9fingers June 17 2010, 18:44:41 UTC
Vintage Armagnac from Janneau. 1950 is too pricy, but the '85 is just about affordable as a very rare treat. (£75 per bottle - a smidgeon cheaper than Krug champagne.)

I don't drink much brandy anymore: it's not as bad as port but the headaches rather put me off. Sooner or later I'll no doubt become antipathic to all alcohol in some gradually increasing fashion: I wonder when I'll end up finding that whisky hurts too much. So I drink it while I still can.

'As we get older we do not get any younger' as the poet said. Later on your body will betray you too: it's the getting to that point that we have to celebrate in moderation.

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anosognosia June 17 2010, 22:48:56 UTC
I'm afraid my tastes are quite pedestrian. A bottle of Tullamore Dew is my typical companion.

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johnny9fingers June 18 2010, 11:26:07 UTC
The 1920 Taylor Fladgate is quite special, however. Very pricy, but there you go.

Given that I'm half Irish, I should applaud your choice of Whiskey: but for me Islay and the Islands provide the most interesting malts.

I doubt that many of your tastes are, um, pedestrian, in the sense you give the word. Refinement seems to bleed into ones life from other areas: it seems almost impossible to improve on part of ones existence (like mind, for example, or income) without all the other parts (like taste) being thrown into a sharper relief and developing thereupon.

My problem is I have become a connoisseur. I grade all of my experiences almost as much as living them. I blame Descartes, it's all his fault: well either him, or my deficient 'Y' chromosome, or some genetic oddity.

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