I bounced into my local with a grin and told the bartender, “I got me a new baby—Willett Rye!” I had it there several days before when the other guy was on. Unless I’m in a cocktailian bar, I almost always drink Manhattans if the place can actually make a cocktail. It’s sort of endearing to be remembered for a drink—something that doesn’t happen to me as much since I left off drinking neat scotch. And as I still like some alcoholic heat, I was very excited to find Willett. The bottle of single barrel rye I went out and bought within that hour was a 4-year at 55 percent alcohol. Mixed with a sufficiency of Carpano Antica and Angostura Bitters, it’s like driving a sofa down the freeway.
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