The white carnation boutonniere offers a young man his first opportunity to wear flowers. This moment makes visible one of his awkward, pimply steps toward manhood, but it is the aromas that stand out: the flower’s heavy scent, the musky notes of dime store cologne, the halo of tetrachloroethylene from the ill-fitting tuxedo just removed from the dry cleaning plastic, the starch of the too-tight shirt. The Glenlivet 12 offers a similar contest between the floral and spicy, but unlike our would-be prom king, this one is not a loser. South Carolina peaches, marinated in molasses and cilantro, pierced by Amazonian ipê wood whittled into skewers by a Damascus steel knife, then grilled over a cast-iron hibachi at high altitude. A few drops of water brings out a surprise—the subtle taste of lemon, like pound cake topped with lemon curd, delivered by mistake in the leathery hands of a poorly-trained service monkey.