Jack daniels single barrel
Jack Daniel the dog
In the early 90’s before I had the daily task of facing a soul decimating job, my parents said it would be good for me to have a puppy so I would have responsibilities. We picked up a pure bred yellow lab my moms named jack daniels, or just jd for short. he was just a little guy, care free and happy, he smelled of puppy pee and adorableness. I had no idea the puppy would grow to equal my 12 year old mass or gain the muscle structure of lou ferigno. Jack daniel the dog crushed my childhood dreams of being happy faster than summer school and childhood onset diabetes combined.
I quickly discovered what a mess the puppy was going to be; the daily walking was basically me being dragged wherever the dog wanted to go until he allowed me to return home with him. He was strong, so strong instead of throwing sticks I threw trees for him. We had to attach a leash to walk him from the kennel to our house and he didn’t like going from the kennel to the house, so he would quite often escape my grasp and I would spend hours just running through the grand metropolis of chippawa, after the fleeing pup. I would have to run full tilt after him, trying to attach the leash so I could get him home. The stress alone almost fried my 13 year old body faster than the guy who would pound a half pack of smokes next to me in the car with the window rolled down a whole inch. Aaah, the ‘90’s and child negligence; together at last.
One time in the winter he bolted from our backyard to the nearby creek and he started out on some very thin ice that collected on the bank. I sat on the shore screaming my throat raw, telling him to get fucking back here now, when I saw the ice cracking. I guess I thought not coming home alive was better than coming home without the little shit so I found myself crawling out to that scared, stupid puppy on that very same thin ice. I was shaking. He was shaking. I thought we wouldn’t make it back. The water moved so fast in the creek that if at any moment, the ice broke, we would both be gone and never found for years. I hated that puppy.
Another time he took off and ran across the street to find my 8 year old neighbor playing in the yard and snacking on a cookie. He snatched the cookie from his hand and ate it in front of his tear filled eyes, knocked him down on the ground and when jd turned and saw me coming after him, the dog swatted the kids juice out of his hand and ran again. The kids father was barking furiously at me about getting that misfit dog under control. I stopped chase and gave the man instructions on how he could eat my 14 year old genitals and gave him tips on portion control. The portion was limitless. I hated that dog.
As years went on, jd settled a bit. My clothes weren’t being torn to shreds, I could leave a sandwich alone for ten seconds, he would eat any lost ground bud so my parents wouldn’t discover it, if anybody gave me a problem, jd could snap a persons arm in a second and we trained for my rugby tour to England together. We ran kilometers every night after school. Jd ran so much that he turned into the equivalent of a roid banging jersey shore cast member(pick one). he weighed just over 100 lbs and it was all lean muscle. The one night I watched and laughed as he dragged my moms through puddles and mud throughout our back yard. I swear at one point she actually hydroplaned. Jd would play tug-o-war with my friends and nearly dislocate their elbows and shoulders. I often think about how good life my might be if my friend brandons shoulder was dislocated; I might have turned out rich and owned a gas station in chippawa, washing customers windshields and drinking beer all day… but no, Brandon still has a brutal right hook and I still have to glance over my shoulder every two minutes in fear that somebody might recognize me as his friend and come after me for revenge. The dog was ok, I guess.
Being in and out of the house so often, I would periodically stop in to visit jack. He was doing well, he played lots, destroyed toys and he had a jealous girlfriend. Jd and I would have a real relationship and love each other for 14 years. He was my best friend.
I reached my twenties and my relationship with my parents was a festering shitpile at best, so I spent a lot of time away from home, for months or years. When I would return I would see jd’s eyes going white and the fur on his muzzle turning from golden to a light shade of grey, then platinum. He was getting old and his hips were going arthritic from age and swimming in cold water(he was one hell of a duck hunting dog). I was living with my parents again after a terrible break up from a relationship which lead to me losing my mind. I quit both my outstanding, respectable and career driving jobs, I was drinking heavily to the point I thought I would die and I was giving up on life altogether. Then one morning I came upstairs to see my moms pouting on the couch.
‘what?’ I would ask so insensitively. I was walking by to use the bathroom to evacuate a case of beer from my bladder.
‘gare, its jd….’ She trailed off. I knew in that second what was wrong. ‘his hips, gary, he fell down the stairs. We have to take him in.’
‘no mom, please, mom, no. just not today. Please!’I had warm tears falling down my cheeks.
It was no use. She was right. Its not fair to have him suffer in pain from arthritic hips. I fetched the leash and found jd curled up on his favourite mat. ‘come on buddy, we’re going for a car ride.’ I was blind from tears. He couldn’t stand on his own for long, so I picked up and cradled that very same 100 lb frame and carried him to the backseat of my moms car. Jd licked tears off my cheeks, not understanding what could have been so wrong. He withstood his own pain to make me feel pacified. I loaded him into the car, and we took a long, quiet ride. We got to the door of the vet and I let him walk in on his own, but I refused to step inside. Instead I leaned on the side of the car, wiping tears and smoking cigarettes until my mom came back out twenty minutes later, alone, with one black leash and one empty collar coiled in her hand. I loved that dog.
Jack Daniel the dog was one of a kind. Jack daniels single barrel Tennessee whiskey is one of a kind too.
Wow. Very cool, oldschool presentation. Imagine heating a glass bottle of old no.7 and grabbing the neck and pressing down, squashing the bottle into a square type of bell and stem type of decanter. Small, classy black and gold label. Just under the large wooden cork is the bottles serial number, letting the customer know the rickhouse, date and barrel this bottle came from.
First impressions are oaky fruit cocktail. The fruit is bursting from the glass, although the oak could be verging on bitter. Classic jack nose packed with juicy fruit and honey soaked banana candies. A touch of sickly sour acetone turns to buttered corn.
Thick and creamy, but with a spicy crème brulee kick. Vanilla and charred corn meet up with juicy fruit gum and end off with a quick rye burst, then a long, sweet corn exit. The finish is a touch of charred pith. pleasant bitterness.
A single barrel project takes one piece of the puzzle and casts it aside. Meaning, a blend of whisky is dozens or hundreds of barrels of different whiskies poured together and married in a blend. With a single barrel project, one barrel that stands out above the rest as an exceptional product is bottled alone, unblended.
Single barrel projects are typically labeled so that a customer can compare an assortment of different barrels in tastings. Each barrel is different and each bottle from a different barrel will have unique traits differing it from the others.
The barrels selected for the jack daniels single barrel project are picked from the top of the rickhouse, where the barrels typically tend to mature very quickly because they are stored in a warmer part of the warehouse, which causes more grain/wood interaction. Effectively this creates a faster maturation, and is considered by many to be a superior product. more on slow aging at another time.
The main difference between single barrel and old no.7 is that black label number 7 is a consistent blend of different whiskies to taste the exact same every single time, from bottle to bottle, year to year. When we have a sample of single barrel whiskey, they differ in profile. One bottle may be more spicy, or more vanilla laden, or less fruity than others, but make no mistake, jack daniels single barrel project always produces top notch bottling.
You can contact the fine people at brown formans jack daniels distillery and book an appointment to travel to the distillery and sample from a barrel you would like to purchase yourself. They even bottle it and personalize the label and barrel head for you. Splitsies?
If youre already a jack fan, this is a must have. Not familiar? Its pretty robust, so may want to try it before you buy it.