Upstate pride
I’m going to resist the ubiquitous tendency to write about whiskey like a sex offender (all liquid is “supple,” that’s how you can drink it) and just make the most salient point about Hudson Baby Bourbon. It gets you drunk. In style. It has something for pretty much every demographic. For your mountain man, it’s bourbon. So it’ll make you feel like building things with your hands and referring to a beautiful woman as “handsome.” For hipsters, it’s an exclusive artisan product that looks antique and matches your suspenders and civil war facial hair. For rich people, it’s 35 dollars for a 350mL bottle. For all of them and everyone else, it evokes a mild caramel sweetness and a puff of smoke that rises quickly to the top of palate, there to stoke its ruminant fire even for us fallen, deviant urbanites. Plus it has a wax seal that makes it feel like you’re cracking into a letter from a medieval king.
One of my favorite things to do after a few drinks besides texting is reading. Drinking simplifies and amplifies pleasure, and the animal joy of putting eyes to words is not to be overshadowed by the derivative joy of thinking about those words. If you’re going to try it, Hudson’s a great companion but you’ll in any contingency want to stick with brown booze. Rum can work in dark n’ stormy form and I’ll extend my approval to Irish and Scotch but if you’re drinking alone you better pray no one catches you with a cosmo in one hand and Yaya Sisterhood in the other. And if you miscalculate and the words on the page are in free-fall just cruise Cabin Porn like a true backwoods bourbonite until your head clears.
