fireball

Fireball whisky liqueur

I spent a lot of my time growing up in a few shady bars around town, where people didn’t really bother you, but if you wanted trouble, it was easy to find. Just talk to somebody.

I was sitting in a sleazy dump in chippawa where I used to go after work, to go blow my brains out. It was slimy, smelled of old fryer grease and backed up sewage, but it was comfy for a guy like me. I could watch a fight every week, and whatever drug I wanted was easy to source out. A mothers nightmare. We used to smoke hash in the basement and sometimes sit on these plastic blue bread racks and ride them down the stairs, leading to the basement. I watched a couple guys rip a sink right off the wall, and go sit down and enjoy the rest of their beers before casually strolling out. Every town has a place like it.

So, there was this drink special every night of the week. Sundays, rye(we drank the bar out of whisky a couple times), Monday, vodka, Tuesday, beer, etc, etc. on Fridays however, it was fireball. Fireball. It was hidden in an old dusty bottle on the back shelf. Like a cursed severed hand supposed to deliver wishes, but also deliver doom.

It served me my wishes, I became drunk, and it served my doom, twice now. The first was that ive never projectile vomited while walking in full stride without bothering to stop walking, until then. Then the second time its brought doom; I have to attune my senses to accurately pick out all the bold and subtle flavours this whisky liqueur has to offer. Sometimes, I hate my job.
I imagine the makers of fireball put whisky on the label because putting “undrinkable” is a poor marketing ploy.

Alc. 33%

Bottle:
they seem to have updated the label from an old speed racer comic book cover to a blatant plagiarism of the Scottish lion. The bottle still looks like a cough syrup bottle. Flat and shouldered. We’ve learned from the past that a flat bottle shatters quite easily.

Nose:
I let this air out in my tasting room for almost an hour prior to tasting and all I can smell is artificial cinnamon essence. Cinnamon hearts, fireball candy, big toes and big red chewing gum. Light young spirit comes out overtop the artificial cinnamon.

Palate:
Overwhelming fake cinnamon takes the front and middle while fading into an actual whisky taste when the fake essence lifts. It tastes like a very young corn whisky actually. This is very oily stuff, sweet and theres some burnt crème brulee hiding in the palate, with, oooh, cayenne! This boasts heavy fake cinnamon and is riddled with cooked sugar notes. Its thick and has strong profiles of caramel, toffee, mc D’s honey sauce and a little vanilla extract. I taste no oak.

Please note:
This is not good. It’s a shooter, if you wish, or maybe it can go into a coffee or a sauce for baked sticky buns. Ive heard of skiers heaving a handful of snow into their yap and then chugging as much of this as possible. I don’t hold their enthusiasm.
I do however have a recipe for a drink called an oatmeal cookie;
One part of each – fireball, jager, Irish cream liqueur and butterscotch schnapps. Mix briefly and consume quickly.

overall:

eww.

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