Homecoming in a glass
We spent the morning down in Beijing. Myles' passport is due to expire soon, so we needed to start the renewal process. After we finished at the embassy, we decided to head over to the Bookworm for some book-browsing, coffee, and, eventually, lunch.
Books purchased and my first cup of coffee finished, we ordered lunch. While we waited, I looked over at the bar and the many, many bottles of foreign liquor. The rum, the scotch, the whisky, the---wait a minute! I could make them out by shape even before I read the labels. Oh, the Bourbon!
"Look over there," I said to Randy, "at that bottle of Blanton's. It is so tempting to order a glass, isn't it."
He told me to go for it, but I hesitated. It was not even noon yet. Randy, ever helpful, reminded me that it was almost midnight in Kentucky, which somehow made it appropriate to enjoy a shot of bourbon before I had even eaten lunch.
I ordered it with a side glass of ice. I dropped two small cubes into the caramel-colored pool. I swirled it just enough to feel the ice circle once or twice.
A sniff would not do. I held the rim of the glass between my mouth and nose and inhaled. I breathed the very fragrance of a home once too briefly mine. This was no involuntary memory. I knew what the contents of this glass would do to me, what would come to my mind. I welcomed it, the scent of Kentucky.
An ounce of any liquid so scarce to me as this could not be gulped. That is not the normal manner of drinking Blanton's anyway. Not knowing when next I would cross paths with a real bourbon like this, my sips were smaller and further between than usual. So smooth and luscious; no punishment this drink. It needs no further dilution than those two small ice cubes. This was the taste of Kentucky.
And just like that the glass was drained. I certainly could have had a second, but the bottle contained what appeared to be only one more shot. It is still there, for the next person who in the middle of the chaos and wonder of Beijing life needs to slow down with some Kentucky-in-a-glass.
Books purchased and my first cup of coffee finished, we ordered lunch. While we waited, I looked over at the bar and the many, many bottles of foreign liquor. The rum, the scotch, the whisky, the---wait a minute! I could make them out by shape even before I read the labels. Oh, the Bourbon!
"Look over there," I said to Randy, "at that bottle of Blanton's. It is so tempting to order a glass, isn't it."
He told me to go for it, but I hesitated. It was not even noon yet. Randy, ever helpful, reminded me that it was almost midnight in Kentucky, which somehow made it appropriate to enjoy a shot of bourbon before I had even eaten lunch.
I ordered it with a side glass of ice. I dropped two small cubes into the caramel-colored pool. I swirled it just enough to feel the ice circle once or twice.
A sniff would not do. I held the rim of the glass between my mouth and nose and inhaled. I breathed the very fragrance of a home once too briefly mine. This was no involuntary memory. I knew what the contents of this glass would do to me, what would come to my mind. I welcomed it, the scent of Kentucky.
An ounce of any liquid so scarce to me as this could not be gulped. That is not the normal manner of drinking Blanton's anyway. Not knowing when next I would cross paths with a real bourbon like this, my sips were smaller and further between than usual. So smooth and luscious; no punishment this drink. It needs no further dilution than those two small ice cubes. This was the taste of Kentucky.
And just like that the glass was drained. I certainly could have had a second, but the bottle contained what appeared to be only one more shot. It is still there, for the next person who in the middle of the chaos and wonder of Beijing life needs to slow down with some Kentucky-in-a-glass.
Comments
What does it say that even drinking cheap bourbon I think of you? I mean, it is Very Old......;-)
Miss you guys bunches.
And seriously, WHO would have thought that you'd have such fond thoughts of KY? :)