Order a whiskey on the rocks and watch their eyes twitch.  Even a single tumbler of hard liquor – no more or less potent than a glass of Chardonnay or a bottle of beer – is prone to horrify a drinking companion who’s expended all of his energy selecting an elegant imported beer.  Hard drinks are the province of alcoholics and felons, right?  There’s even something unsettling about the word: whiskey.  It can’t be uttered without a leer or the implication of damnation.  Repeat it as a mantra: whiskey, whiskey, whiskey.  Now you’ve ordered three.

Canadian whiskey and ice is my favorite mixed drink.  Not a complex combination, but an inspiring one: firewater and ice, silver and gold, purity and poison.  In a pinch, I’ll settle for a fine Southern bourbon or a top-drawer Irish whiskey, but habitually I’ll order Canadian Club or Crown Royal.  Leave the off brands to the indiscriminate drinker – there are plenty of them.

There are no clear whiskeys.  No whiskey coolers, no whiskey lite, no non-alcoholic whiskeys.  Whiskey is not a gimmick, it’s booze.  Whiskey isn’t trendy.  It mixes poorly with fruit juice.  Drinks such as “Sex on the Beach” come and go, but whiskey is timeless.  Does whiskey go better with steak or seafood?  Who cares?  Have a couple and it all tastes like chicken.  Whiskey doesn’t lead to the hard stuff, it is the hard stuff.

Drinking isn’t instinctual, but it is ritualistic.  When the drink is placed before you, study the color: a little pot of liquid gold.  Swirl the glass and listen to the ice rattle.  Raise it slowly to your lips and inhale the pungent fumes before you sip.  Watching ice melt in a glass of whiskey is like watching the sun set slowly, an 80-proof dusk expressed in amber.

The first taste is like wood-aged kerosene, but by the third sip you’re weighing the pros and cons of alcoholism.  Unlike th more mixable liquors, whiskey offers evidence of its poisonous intent as it’s consumed.  It tastes of hell on ice, but close your eyes as it descends and you’ll be able to see the pyramids of heaven.

– Burl Gilyard