I'm having a Dunphy's.
This is what happens when you have no money but buy
a bottle of Old Comber for Christmas anyway.
A pal gave me
this when I helped him move house. Bless him, he reckoned I'd
probably drank my fill of Jameson, Powers and Bush so he thought
to get me something different.
Well, a gift's a gift,
so I didn't bother telling him this was made to be drowned in
coffee and cream! In short, I'd have taken the Powers a million
times over if given the chance.
I'm not going to
waste people's time with tasting notes. It's tastes like
wood-flavoured vodka. That's it. I'm drinking it not out of
punishment duty, but because I prefer even basic whiskey to an
Irish coffee (I'm strange like that) and because I wanted to
recalibrate my taste buds after the string of awesome whiskeys
we've had at recent tastings.
Truth be told, I've
been spoilt with splendid drams - some of my own and some kindly
served to me by the IWS. Supping a Dunphy's or too brings me
back down to Earth so to speak. I don't mean to be too hard on
it. It's not meant to be drunk neat and it's no worse than many
supermarket whiskeys. But it's no Bushmills single sherry cask,
Tyrconnell 17 year old or Redbreast 15 year old, you know what I
mean?