The first blog post is always the hardest, or so I’ve been experiencing for the past year and a half, ever since I decided to start blogging about beer. In that span I have drank a lot of beer, and I have had my fair share of adventures, but somehow I have never been able to convert to this social media thing to tell my stories. Instead I have enthusiastically told all manner of hilarious personal stories to anyone who would listen in the many pubs, bars, living rooms and bonfires that I frequent. But that is all changing right now, for this is truly a blog post, and it is about Tuesday afternoon, when I drank some beer, and then some whisky.
My friend was about to complete another orbit (his twentieth) and he had requested that his friends join him in drinking the afternoon away before heading to the free church dinner. Something about going to church a little buzzed had always seemed like a good idea, and with the added personal obstacle of having a class in between our afternoon beer session and the dinner, it was only logical that I bring a bottle of whisky with me into the lecture to maintain that buzz. I should point out however that normally I am very particular about what, how, where and when I drink anything. Most of the time, the beer I wish to drink will require the proper shaped glass, served at the proper temperature, and drunken in the proper atmosphere and frame of mind. There are times however, when a brown paper bag and a mickey of Ballantine’s just hits the spot. It is hard to properly record tasting notes for Ballantine’s when it is swigged from the bottle in 2 oz gulps, and quite possibly useless to the average whisky drinker as well, being arguably the most inexpensive enjoyable blended Scotch on the market in British Columbia, but it would be of interest to have another drink soon to see if it can taste different than burning malt as it races down the hatch.