Once again, I bring you a post that I meant to publish at least a week ago. But then prom cupcakes and a birthday order, plus a couple of friend birthdays, and you know, the KIDS, the HOUSE, LIFE took over. The other day I made a concerted effort on this, and I ended up in a rabbit hole of photos that might fit the content – 2 hours later…. Anyway, no excuses, no whining, just letting you know, I had a plan go awry. But here it is:
I suck. Like what the hell. How did I start a blog where the very first part of the name is BOURBON and then not write about it?? I’ve mentioned it here and there, yeah, and I do drink a fair bit of it (just look at Instagram, hah) but how the f*** have I gone so long without writing a post about this magical spirit???
That ends now. Let’s start with the humble beginning of this little love affair.
A few years ago, the Husband and I decided next on our travel list is Scotland. I was immediately adamant that I didn’t want to go and drink shitty girly drinks and look like a damn tourist. But it’s Scotland. Scotland!! My choices are beer or whiskey. Seriously – me drinking beer is about as likely as me going camping, or suddenly being OK around bugs. Not happening.
And so began what I dubbed Whiskey Training. It was quickly agreed that I should start with Bourbon as the easiest gateway into whiskey world. Now, I’ve probably mentioned at some point my beloved Party Planning Committee. It started as an occasional Thursday evening with the best neighbor of all time. After putting the girls to bed we’d hang out with the Neighbor and sometimes a few other friends.
Every so often, I’d try a sip of whatever bourbon they were drinking but it always ended with my beer face (picture sour lemon face and mega stink face made an angry baby). If this is how bourbon’s going to go, transitioning to Scotch will be virtually impossible!
A few months later, with no progress on the Bourbon front, I took my first true mom time out in 7 years (i.e. more than a day away from kids with zero responsibility and virtually no decision-making) – a good friend planned a crazy weekend in my favorite American city, Chicago. Since anyone who knows me knows I’m not a beer drinker, he brought along a flask of Wild Turkey 101.
First he documented my very first sip:
Clearly, not love at first sight! After a little practice though, I was sold! Besides, it’s always fun to see how people react to my drinking 101. “You’re not an 80-year-old white man!” “Oh, but that stuff burns!” Nobody expects me, a girly girl all the way, to drink bourbon neat.
This buddy still owes me a flask, but luckily I have acquired a few on my own. And though I’ve tried numerous other Bourbons and even some scotch, 101 will always be in the flask. Gobble Gobble!