The Glenfarclas 10

50 ml Howard the Duck travel flask

Tasting notes:
Apples.  Dahlias dipped in sherry on a hot morning.  Cherry tobacco cigarillos, also dipped in sherry.  The empty cigar box sits in a child’s room stuffed with Monopoly money, secret notes, and an invented language with its own alphabet.  The window looks out into a movie producer’s back yard; his neighbors know him as the guy who greenlighted Howard the Duck.

     The mouth is both sharp and cheesy, but not the stuff of sharp cheddar.  Rather it’s a beeswax stylus kept cool so it can be used to draw caricatures on a warm wax tablet. “Salty,” says Bill.  Stephen and I look up quizzically to see him brushing off the crumbs of airline pretzels.  “What?” he pleads, and we let it go, but Stephen shoots him a look that says we’re only letting it go this time.  The back of the mouth is woody.  A dark woody: think Capital Crimes and High Misdemeanors, or Annie Unlit Hall.
     Finish fattens out like a pat of butter added to coffee.  Bittersweet chocolate without the bitterness, sweetness, or chocolate.  Dried pith of some citrus fruit used to wipe down sherry barrels.  I am in a book-lined room in an Oxford don’s home and I’m not ready to leave.  


–On the scale of surprising answers to the question, “Where are they now?” pertaining to Howard to the Duck–
The Glenfarclas 10 is sipping a martini and insulting the Collector at the end of Guardians of the Galaxy.  Considerably more surprising than Stephen’s guess (“In a retirement home in Toontown?”), but a bit less than Bill’s (“Running a cartoon porn shop?”).



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