Screw you, leap year. You have the audacity to add an extra day without making my employer pay me an additional 0.274%?! I declare shenanigans!
Apparently, this was DC’s unofficial Whisk(e)y Week, with two whiskey festivals taking place only a few days apart and a spate of events in between to prevent one’s liver from ever recovering. For reasons that are not at all clear to me, WhiskyFest (the bigger, more expensive of the two) was on a Wednesday, which basically eliminated any chance of my attending. Whisky Live, however, is always on Saturday, and after two years of hemming and hawing, I finally decided to go.
The VIP package got us in 30 minutes ahead of the crowds, which actually weren’t too bad, and included a lovely, cut crystal Glencairn glass and access to a special tasting area with more whisky (because 150 options isn’t enough). Apart from a single barrel Four Roses poured for me by their new master distiller, I wasn’t blown away by anything in the VIP area. Some of the general access bourbons were fantastic, though.
Jared at The Bourbon Source really blew everyone else out of the water with his selection, but it wasn’t exactly a fair fight—he brought a bunch of dusties whose rarity alone provides a special allure.
Joe from Barrell Bourbon had a similarly impressive spread and excellent product to boot. I’ve been clinging onto a bottle of their Batch 001 for about a year, and now I want all of the others. Curse you, Joe!
And I finally got to try Brenne, a French single malt whisky about which I’d heard many good things. It lived up to the hype, and now I want these, too. And that’s how they get ya…
The event was so much fun that it warrants its own post, so I’ll get right on that.
With The Missus out of town on Friday, I decided to try something a bit out of the ordinary. No, not the chocolate chip cookies: dinner at a gun shop. That’s right, the local gun shop—which has a sign outside that reads “Guns and Coffee”—hosts a free spaghetti dinner on the first Friday of the month. It’s too off the wall for me not to try, and it was actually quite good.
My having been raised well, I couldn’t show up empty handed, so I threw together some chocolate chip cookies beforehand. I’m toying with my recipe, and I can’t decide whether the changes were a net improvement, but everyone there seemed to enjoy. The cookies were gone before I left.
Oh, and I ate McDonald’s on my way back from Whisky Live, because it was the only thing open near me. I mean, apart from Taco Bell, which is farther away and even worse. I feel dirty.
A long time ago, I was a triathlete. Not a good one, mind you, but a triathlete all the same. Then time and budget constraints got in the way, so I quit swimming and evolved into a guy who just runs and bikes a lot, but never in conjunction. This week, for the first time in years, that changed.
In the midst of a long, lung-burning trainer session, my apparently oxygen-deprived brain decided that a short run off the bike was just what the doctor ordered. The next 30 minutes of cranking the pedals to steadily increasing fatigue wasn’t enough to convince me otherwise, so when my bike workout was done, I quickly changed into running gear and sped out the door. Somehow it wasn’t terrible. It actually felt…good. I just might try that again. In fact, I might even go for a swim. Maybe.
Interwebs of Intrigue