A Bowmore Ménage à Deux

50 ml airline bottles


The Bowmore Legend

Tasting notes:
“Legend” typically evokes a remarkable tale filled with characters and deeds that resonate through the ages. This seems an inappropriate label for this scotch if interpreted in the commonly understood sense; rather I’d say something more on the order of “Wretched Moan-Unworthy Pun” or the “Trailing Inconsequential Facts at the end of a Turgid News Report Regarding a Bloated and Incoherent Britney Spears.” But after analyzing an alternate definition of “Legend,” it seems clear that Bowmore meant for the scotch to be denoted “Caption Under a Picture.” Why would a scotch be named for a few measly words when a picture itself is worth 1000 words? Evidently we are to imagine a suitable picture, or work of art, which itself frames the particular malt expression. As such, the works of art that spring to mind are the epic paintings of Hieronymous Bosch, a vintage black-velvety Dogs Playing Poker, and perhaps most accurately, Damien Hirst’s dead cow embalmed in a glass tank of formaldehyde.



–On the scale of oft-quoted enigmatic Monty Python lines–
The Bowmore Legend is “Your mother was a hamster, and your father smelt of elderberries.”–Go ahead, defenestrate Prince Herbert.



The Bowmore 17

Tasting notes:
From Frank Sinatra’s “It Was a Very Good Year,” to Janis Ian’s “At 17,” all the way to the Kings of Leon’s “17” (with numerous others), the number 17 has been very popular with lyricists and singers. Precise and nuanced, like Frank Sinatra’s voice; dripping with memorable amber-y pathos like Janis Ian, and perfectly balancing peat and smoke, like the sinuously upraising and lingering chaotic swirl of a Gauloises Blonde cigarette smoldering in an ashtray, unjarred by the sheets of sound ringing out from a patina-dulled, dented saxophone wailing in a 1950’s jazz club somehow–miraculously–incongruously–gloriously–transported to a moonlit bog. The kaleidoscopic flavors and Bolero-like finish demand no mere crystal goblet: you must drink from the unscented, de-linted, cleaned innie navel of your beloved. This is a drink to shame a mountain stream and one to call Bacchus down to revel with you.



–On the scale of side vegetables–
The Bowmore 17 is Lightly steamed asparagus with a perfectly lemony hollandaise sauce–It’s so good, you’ll make it your main course and not care about the strange odor it imparts to your urine.


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