Some people are reserved. They’re hard to pry or get to know. You can ask them a bunch of questions but their answers will stay short and professional. My father’s side of the family is almost entirely the quiet type. My dad grew up in Montana; his dad moved there from West Virginia because… um… I don’t quite remember, but I thought it had something to do with shoes. Or was it that it was getting too crowded for him in WV? He’s hard to talk to on the phone so I’ll probably never find out.

On the other hand, some people are verbal geysers and will talk whether you want them to or not. My maternal family are mostly talkers. My aunt will call to ask me a question and suddenly it’s a half hour later. Talking is fine and all, but occasionally my brain just needs me to stop doing things like holding a phone or paying attention. I try and think of a way to break away politely and then I freeze up. Occasionally, it gets so bad that I come down with conversational Stockholm Syndrome. I forget that I’ve been trying to hang up for 20 minutes and accidentally start an entirely new conversation.

The General is a blended Scotch which, in homage to blending, is a perfect balance of these people… if people were whisky. You don’t need to try very hard to get it to talk to you, even if you’ve never met it before, but it keeps it’s weird political views to itself even once you’re more familiar. It’s just a really nice person whisky.

My maternal uncle, Brody, talking about his last trip to the dentist.

The ad copy posits that an unamed blender vatted a few young whiskies for bottling and for one reason or another, instead of bottling it, they poured the blended Scotch back into casks. After 33 years, two groups of these blended casks made their way to John Glaser, one group much older than the other . They would be blended into a limited release of only 1,698 bottles. 

Nose: Dried apricots and handfuls of hay. Cream and soft caramel candies. There’s a smoky, almost crab-like, oceanic umami note. Cooked orange oil and shellac, lovingly massaged into a mahogany panel with a dirty sock. Stamp glue and malted milk balls. A brick of dark brown sugar and plums drenched in apple juice and garnished with confetti made from pulpy, lined yellow paper. Bright citrus peels, pine sap, crisp apples and fruity cocoa nibs. The fruit unfolds over time and is worth careful consideration. Cinnamon sugar toast. The soles of a brand new pair of Converse All Stars. Model airplane glue. Watermelon. It’s like an olfactory Rorschach test, complex and nebulous with plenty to explore.

Palate: Bushels of malt and dark, almost burned, caramel. Earthy and green, like fresh spring pea tendrils. Spicy cinnamon and rolling tobacco. Freeze dried orange peel sprinkled over glazed doughnuts. Plums lacquered with sherry. It has a very light smoke from the hyper-aged peat stocks that seem to have melted into glutamates. Chewy, punchy, Bourbony, with a long spicy finish, and a schizophrenia that turns itself bold or mild mannered depending on why you’re drinking it.

The decades of maturation add depth to the blend’s mild disposition and all the component whiskies are easy to enjoy in unison. This is something special for sure.

It was supposed to retail for around $300, but trying to find a bottle now might leave you missing a kidney. I hesitated to highly recommend this one based on the price, but the label’s design and the whisky’s pedigree are both too charismatic to dismiss. I’m not one to usually buy bottles over $200, either, but if you can find a bottle of The General on a shelf priced in the 300’s you’d be a fool not to grab it up.

Thank you to Chris Maybin from Compass Box for providing the sample!

I’ve been killing a lot of time, lately. I haven’t been waiting for something in particular, more like wandering for the sake of wandering… on the internet.

First, I pretended I was going to learn Spanish, again. Yea right. Four minutes later I was neck deep in a pile of YouTube videos. Did you know you can light a fire with your pee? Crazy. Someday, that information will change the quality of your life, drastically.

Next, I considered building an earth oven in the backyard; you know, for that once or twice a year I make bread, when the weather’s right, my antidepressants are chugging along at full capacity, and I randomly had the foresight to cold ferment the dough long enough beforehand to make it all worthwhile? So basically, I’d need three perfect days in a row to use it. Or maybe two perfect days with a shitty day separating them. Whatever. I would use it so many times that a raccoon would probably move in and live a long, healthy, bread-less life before the second time I fired it up.

When my brain felt like it was starting to slow down, I turned to online sudoku. Interestingly enough, Sudoku is where my brain goes to die, now.

Eventually in my wandering, I gave up seeking out engaging intellectual sustenance altogether, so I turned to Facebook. There, I stalked some people I went to middle school with, filled out a few fun surveys and learned some dark, dark things about humanity. The most mature of these recent insights, is that the quality of drink I tend to choose is directly affected by my mood and that both my drink and mood are heavily influenced by my preference for extreme variety. It wasn’t all zen insight on facebook, though. There were dick jokes… so many dick jokes. And cat pics. Cat pics and dick jokes. It occurs to me, if there were a contest for the biggest waste of time among all of the time-killing hobbies I’m celebrating here, writing about them still has a great shot at taking home the grand prize. Moving on.

The Great King Street Artist’s Blend is like the internet of whisky. Great King Street doesn’t make you work for its brand of instant gratification. It’s just there, waiting to be plucked from the glass. It’s not fancy. It doesn’t beg. It can be questionable in ways but it’s extremely useful and the price is right. I would call it public library whisky, a frill-less way to indulge your thirst. In that way, the Artist’s Blend is a deliciously casual choice if you need to bring something to a party for everyone to share.

Nose: Floral. Gentle with sun bleached hay bales. Fresh cream and malted barley. Subtle canned pears. A an empty tin that used to hold those thumbprint cookies with the Hershey’s Kisses on top. Green banana peels by the beach.

Palate: Not too sweet. Not too hot. A little youthful and a bit like a shortbread cookie with a light dusting of cayenne. Sprightly. Light citrus with kiwi. Milk chocolate, at times, verging on bitter. Poached raisins in black pepper on the finish. Not incredibly bold or complicated.

At $35, the Great King Street Artist’s Blend is a no-brainer. I love this whisky. It’s easy going, light and extremely drinkable. The price seals the deal and proves that affordable Scotch doesn’t have to suck. I’d love to see a high proof version,  but this is still great.