The problem with whiskey tastings is simple: whiskey.
Although not my favorite spirit, I don’t mind whiskey. I mean, I regularly eat multi-grain bread which, with the exception of not being a distilled alcoholic beverage, is essentially the exact same thing. Like my bread, I quite like whiskey when paired with cheese and friends. So, when a nearby restaurant offered a whiskey tasting with tapas, Acehole, Cream Of Tartar, Live Longer, Big Bounty and I immediately signed up – we’re suckers (literally) for drinking events.
As soon as we were seated the server brought us cheese plates and prairie punch. Although we had two more friends joining us, we really didn’t want to wait to imbibe, so we raised our glasses to make a toast. Sadly, some of my punch spilled out before even making it to my mouth. Disappointed about this fact, and not wanting to miss out on a full glass of prairie punch, I decided to switch out my spilled glass with one of the untouched glasses at the end of the table. Concerned our other friends would arrive and notice the discrepancy in pours, Cream Of Tartar drank from the other glass to even out the amount.
For a few seconds I felt bad about what we had done, but then I remembered the Whiskey Rebellion and realized that, 222 years later, we were just doing what our founding fathers would have done. We observed libations without representation, specifically whiskey, and we acted. Whiskey. Act. 2013. I’ll drink to that.