At dinner tonight Chris and I were talking about the difference between Scotch and Bourbon. She does not 'like' Whiskey in any of its incarnations. We discussed how Whiskey is made, distilled and aged. We talked about the differences between the distilling art of Kentucky and the Highlands. Peat and oak fires, corn and barley, years and the right amount of years. Yup, there's a lot to talk about. She was actually interested. And she wanted to know, "What is the difference in the taste of the two?"
So, I pulled out my Macallan's 12 and my Maker's Mark. A bit in two shot glasses. She smelled them. She tried a finger dipped and licked. Not enough to get a good taste. So, the tastes were made.
She likes bourbon better.
And if anybody wants to know why I love my wife, read this blog and consider all of the edges tested, the envelopes pushed, prejudices ignored, the willingness allowing experience and analysis to create possibilities where before there was only judgment.
That there is one enlightened human being.
She's definitely a nasty woman.
RESPECT, just a little bit, RESPECT.
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