I finally tried some Lagavulin 16 year-old single-malt scotch, the preferred intoxicant of the mysterious B of Daniel Quinn's The Story of B. This was in the Gaslamp district of San Diego this afternoon, after going in to pick up tickets for my two bus trips. Be careful when ordering tickets online from Greyhound; some are will-call and others are mailed to you; you don't get to choose, and they don't tell you what the deal is until after you've paid. And their email support sucks. Don't even waste your time with the custserv addy, use isfr even though that's supposedly only for fares and schedules. Lucky I got my Santa-Fe to Deming tickets in the mail on time.
Anyway, the restaurant was Dublin Square at 554 Fourth Ave. They have, besides excellent Scotch, a decent selection of beers, ales, and, of course, Guinness Stout, on tap. The Shepherd's pie wasn't bad either, though for the same $9 I could have had a real feast in Rosarito. Of course, the $12 and change for the shot of Lagavulin wasn't bargain-basement either, but that was for science and the advancement of humanity.
Strangely, I had no visions or any kind of insights that would make me a better Antichrist, so I'll have to keep plodding along as before. It did have a distinctive taste, however. I could probably tell it from Jack Daniel's even blindfolded. Wowser, right? It didn't really live up to the hype. The smoky peat flavor wasn't all that strong, to my taste. And it didn't look smoky at all -- it looked perfectly translucent to me, at least in the dim light of the bar. Oh, well. Twelve bucks down the old rathole.
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last updated 2013-01-10 20:33:55. served from tektonic.jcomeau.com