Sam and Janet.
Sam and Janet who?
“Sam and Janet evening, you will meet a stranger….”
The nose initially recalls butterscotch candies polished to a military shine with a badger bristle brush, but it gradually evolves into something closer to an astronaut’s ration of giant jellyfish caramels. The palate is full and delightful; roasted carrots and other root vegetables stuck together with yellow waxy duck fat. Imagine participants at a dance marathon on your tongue deciding after many hours to give up and sleep in your jowls. The warmth from their tired bodies overspreads you. You are settled into a wingback chair before the fireplace with the clarity of purpose found in burning love letters your spouse kept from a previous lover whose persistent facebook postings brought you to precisely this moment. The urge to light a congratulatory cigar is enhanced by the final notes of cherry tobacco and nurse shoe leather. The anCnoc 12 is indeed the whisky for Sam and Janet evenings, for savoring small serendipities and reveling in tiny triumphs. We see your Szechuan peppercorn, Dr. Whisky, and we raise you a roasted carrot. Very roasted.
The anCnoc 12 is the kids’ joke–far superior to the pedestrian bad pun and significantly better than the knock-knock joke, and a particular example comes to mind here:
What did one snowman say to the other snowman?
Smells like carrots.