I like alcohol and I like to think alcohol likes me. After all the money I have invested in furthering its career, it ought to. We hang out a lot; we are good friends, alcohol and I. I was therefore visibly excited when on Friday I was told there was this thing, a Johnny Walker tasting at The Woods in Muyenga.
But of course I had some concerns.
“Won’t monkeys take stray dumps in my whiskey?” I asked with a degree of apprehension.
“Not if you are drinking it fast enough, like you should.”
“Good point. WE GOOO!”
And so we went.
First thing they did was hand me a square glass mug with two millimeters of Gold Label. It was like O- level Mass all over again. Then to add insult to injury, they asked me to throw it vibe.
“Caress it, look deeply into its eyes and twinkle at it as it twinkles back. Don’t drink, don’t…”
Where I come from, when they give you alcohol you are required to swallow it, not bond with it. I came here to get high. I mean what the &%#@!!!!! (Insert appropriate vulgarity if you feel my pain) . But then, it’s whiskey tasting. Ruffians like me have no business here anyway.
We came late so I missed the other three millimeters of Green Black and Red Label.
The truth is it would probably have made no difference as I cannot do justice to the Johnnie Walker whiskeys. I won’t lie. My palette if I ever had one has been blunted by years of coarse liquor and worse. It has about as much sensitivity as a crocodiles back.
Now, if you have never been to one of these whiskey tastings, then you have missed an experience in poetry, in eloquence. There are people with a strong strong love for the walking whiskies out there. I couldn’t believe someone could talk about Johnny Walker like they are talking about I don’t know, boobs perhaps.
Anyway I want to try my hand at it, this taste-master business, and not to say that I am a Johnny Walker hater, but let me do it for a brand I truly feel for, one that excites similar feelings of passion; the great the mighty, EABL’s finest product, the Uganda Waragi tot pack.
This is how you drink a UG tot pack, it’s not a process, it’s a ritual; A ritual of love.
1- Hold it in your hand and feel the precious liquid slosh around lazily in the plastic. Black and yellow, you know what it is. That’s pure goodness inside there.
2- Bite the corner; sink your fangs into the tough membrane that stands between you and your hearts desire. If you use scissors you are a traitor and a turncoat and deserve to be killed and eaten.
3- Tear downwards. Make sure you get some on your finger tips just so you can lick it off.
4- Lick it off, feel it sting your tongue, feel your heart flutter, that’s not terror you are feeling, that’s worship.
5- Take a deep sniff of the fumes that waft forth. Feel the tears run down your face. Tears of joy.
6- Suck, suck like you have a proboscis, suck and do not let go until the sachet is a spent fistful of plastic in your merciless paw.
7- Rejoice in the scorching path being burnt down your gullet; that is the Spirit coming down. Like Pentecost.
8- You are one of the few, the happy few.
Wait, I forgot we need some mood music, how about the B.E.P.’s Lets Get Retarded. After about six of these babies, you will not be asking me why.
There will be another whiskey tasting at Guvnor’s this Friday. It’s going to be the last of these four part series in experiencing the magic that is Johnny Walker.