- Cost: Way too fucking much!
- 110.6 Proof
- Staves: 4 Seared French Cuvee; 2 Maker's 46; 3 Roasted French Mocha; 1 Toasted French Spice
You know, sometimes some lucky prick gets to do what everybody else who loves bourbon only wishes they could do. Apparently that lucky prick is whoever has the initials "NP" and got to go down to Maker's Mark with what I'm sure was a traveling group of idiots, only to waste a spot in the tasting room putting together whatever godforsaken concoction ended up in this bottle.
What the fuck does NP stand for anyway, "Nano Penis"? "Nimble Pussy"? "Namby Pamby" No, I got it. After drinking this fucking sump pump backflow, it clearly stands for "NO PALATE"!!! I mean seriously, whoever at Binny's corporate or on the Whiskey Hotline team thought that bringing this clownshoe along for the experience was a good idea should have been left in Kentucky with all the toothless, brainless hillbillies.
I popped the cork on this bottle and my kitchen immediately filled with aromas of sulfer and swass, like when I scratch my balls first thing in the morning after a night of heavy drinking and then smell my fingers -- yeah, that smell. You all know exactly what I'm talking about here. As I poured my first glass and brought it closer to my nose, I swear to God I had just been skunked, and a direct hit at that. My eyes watered as my olfactory senses were gang raped by notes of burning rubber, spoiled milk and bong resin.
For some dumb fucking reason, after all of that, I actually decided to take a drink. On the first sip, all I can remember tasting is the acid and bile that coated my throat and mouth as I immediately vomited every last drop of what I assume was strychnine. After cleansing my palate with half a gallon of milk, I carefully went back for another sip.
Surprisingly, I got notes of caramel and chocolate, maybe even a bit of graham cracker. It was like a s'more in a glass -- a s'more that I ate, fully digested, shit onto the floor, and then put right back in my mouth!! That's right, shit in a glass. That's what this was. Corny, a bit grainy, chunky in parts and runny in others.
The finish nearly sent me to the emergency room, as I felt my esophagus erode away with each sip. If you've ever had someone accidentally vomit into your mouth (yeah, totally relatable, I know), this is what that's like. Granted, for me it happened at a puke 'n rally keg party, so my experience was full of bile, warm, flat, cheap beer and cigarettes. I'm guessing I probably just described what this "NP" had for breakfast this morning.
I'm not even bothering with a grade on this one. NP can go fuck himself with this bottle--bottom end first. This bottle has turned me off whiskey forever, and I'm now going to have to pivot to a hard seltzer review blog.
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