Booker’s 8 Year Bourbon
Jesus Ca-Ripes on 12 red wigs.
THIS is what bourbon is all about. Ive been a fan of Booker’s for a minute, but for some reason, i never really appreciated it until recently. I think my pallette matured or even got smart. Because daddy likey.
Lets start with the initial aroma that can only be the same as Ivan Drago punching you in the fucking face with a handful of molten caramel. Such an intense INTENSE complexity, it is a bit surprising. The most intense smell i get is a smokey citrusey vanilla oakiness. Like if you were to set a stripper’s casket on fire.
Ooof….too much? Too intense? I told you…this is a badass bourbon.
Then there is the taste.
Imagine the greatest grand marsala that has ever touched your lips with a meritage of a thousand spices and smells while 14 ninjas were hitting you in the face with throwing stars made out of cloves and set ablaze. This is the kid you graduated that disappeared for a year and came back with a Beard, knowing 9 different disciplines of martial arts. This is all that of the bourbon family.
Where do you begin with the flavors….think of what a burnt orange tastes like just moments after you eat a Werther’s original.
Its a little hot on the lips at first, as it weighs in at a Leviathan sized 126 proof. And believe it or not, its amazing neat or on rocks. I even had it with just a little spritz of water. Anyway you slice it, this bourbon IS why people move to Kentucky.
That and horses. Big, badass horses.
My score – 98 out of 100. Best. Bourbon. Ever. So far…….