I tried, I really did.
All my life, I’ve disliked the taste of alcohol. Even beer tastes to me like something gone horribly wrong. Oh, sure, there are a few wines I can drink, spendy botyrized whites from Germany or France, but they appeal more to my sweet tooth than to anything, and frankly, the intoxicating effect is secondary and in fact, not desired, on my part.
Lately, I’ve developed more of a tolerance for the wines, and even had a mixed drink or two without too much pain, so I thought, why not. Steve H has some advice about alcohol here, and Kim Du Toit Here, speaks to his favorites. I even wrote Mr DuT, and got some personal reccomendations, and following his advice, got my hands on some 15 year Aberlour single speyside malt. Life, as my dear friend and sometimes commentor Jenny says, is too short for cheap booze. Opening it, it filled the kitchen with a wonderful aroma, and I anxiously poured a small bit into a glass. I took it into the library and sat back in my big chair, and took a tentative sip.
I really do feel as if I’ve been poisoned.
I’ve drunk lighter fluid (don’t ask. Just, don’t ask, you don’t want to know) and it didn’t taste this bad. It isn’t as if my taste buds are shot, I can distinguish between fresh garlic and preserved garlic- but this just made me feel as if I’d lit a fire in my mouth and had a golfer stamp it out. What am I doing wrong, intrepids?
Still. I will keep this around the house, in case anyone stops by for a belt. I also have a decent bottle of Polish Vodka, which I suspect will taste much (to me) like sucking on a spent shell casing.
Guess I’ll just have to confine my sophisticated taste to fine rifles.
11 comments Og | Uncategorized
We’re a rare breed, Og. I know people who don’t drink because they disapprove, and I know people who don’t drink because they’re alcoholics. But the number of adults I know who don’t drink because they can’t stand the taste is three: myself, my sister, and now you.
I assume taste is genetic, but it’s complicated. My Mom always liked a beer on social occasions. My Dad always liked good wine. My older brother used to be fond of wine coolers (it was the 70s, after all), and my oldest brother brews his own beer. But my sister and I can barely sip a champagne toast at weddings.
They tell me it’s an acquired taste. I’ve never understood why I would want to acquire a taste for something I just don’t like. Like you say: I hate the taste, and I hate the effects. I can stomach a good pina colada; but frankly, I’d be happier if you left out the rum, and just gave me the pineapple and coconut.
I’ve TRIED to acquire the taste for red wine, due to the reported health benefits. But every time I try, I gag. I pride myself on being able to down foul-tasting medicine; but I can’t recall a medicine that tasted that bad to me.
If I ever get down to Chicago and escape from the Chicago in-laws, we should hunt up a good juice bar.
It’s weird. Most times I can’t stand even the smell of most whiskey, but when I’m in the mood? Then, it tastes just wonderful.
And the flavor does vary- a LOT- from brand to brand.
Most wine, as someone once said, is a fine example of spoiled grape juice, and even when in the mood to drink I hate most of it.
I agree, fine firearms don’t depend on mood for enjoyment, however.
Tastes do vary, don’t they?
It’s not a character flaw if you don’t care for liquor; it’s just whatever combination your taste buds came up with. We all have our likes and dislikes and they tend to be intensely personal in all things. Nature in its infinite variety, that means there’s something for everyone.
I remember when I became a scotch drinker; I had been a bourbon person for quite a few years, probably because you can’t live in the south and not automatically reach for the bottled-in-Kentucky stuff, heck, there’s doubtless some sort of Mason-Dixon statute about it. Then one evening the waiter brought the drinks before dinner and mixed up the order. A sip of Dewars on the rocks and I could not go back to bourbon in any form except for pouring over fruitcakes. (But that’s another story altogether.)
When single malts landed on these shores I was further able to hone my taste buds checking them out. There’s been lots more that have arrived since my first forays and I look forward to many more tastings in my time.
The current bottle in my house is Laphroaig, which is horrible and wonderful all at the same time, you damn near pick peat out of your teeth when you drink it. It also smells like the sea. You’d hate it.
If you don’t appreciate, don’t worry about it, just go find something you DO like and enjoy, that’s the main thing.
Jenny
your humble TubaDiva
I used to like good cigars too, but let’s not go there.
Starting with Scotch is a big mistake. Try something user-friendly, like Harvey’s Bristol Cream or a nice Port. If those put you off, give up.
I do like the occasional glass of Harveys. I also like a nice ruby port. IN small quantities. Maybe I’ll have to stick to that stuff, which is fine.
I’ll usually steer folks toward The MacAllan, a great single-malt matured in sherry casks.
Smoooooth.
But then again, I also enjoy the “pick the peat out of your teeth” varieties as well – with Lagavuling lwading the pack in that category.
Add me to that list, og…
I have never liked the taste of alcohol, in general. There are some mixed drinks I like, but overall, I’ll pass.
I *do*, however, make a frozen mudslide that tastes just like a chocolate frappe but has enough alcohol in it to power Ed Begley Jr.’s car for a month…
I’m in that category, too. I can force the stuff down, but I really don’t enjoy it. Except beer. Good beer I can do…
Me, I hate the smell of beer, and the little alchohol I’ve tasted just… didn’t taste worth pursuing to me. It’s not that it tasted bad, but it didn’t taste particularly good either. So I figure, y’know, why bother?
If you decide you just can’t live with the Aberlour in your house, I’ll e-mail you my mailing address and be more than pleased to take it off your hands.
Seriously, I actually do know a lot of people who just don’t like the taste of any kind of alcoholic drink, so don’t feel like the lone ranger. My wife would sooner drink fingernail polish remover with the rare exception of the occasional first sip from my Shiner Bock longneck. For some weird reason, she loves the first sip from a freshly opened beer and can’t stomach any more than that. Heh… leaves more for me, I say.
I tried Laphroaig for the first time this week and added an axiom to my catalog of accumulated wisdom:
“Don’t drink a single-malt scotch that doesn’t have a ‘Glen’ in its name.”