Wednesday, November 26, 2014

A Glug of Gratitude and Whiskey

Despite how much I love whiskey, I rarely stock it at my house. I like to save it for special occasions— nights out with friends, in birthday sazeracs, for celebratory libations, and of course for the holidays.

From a glug of Evan Williams in my gas station eggnog to my immediate family’s bizarre, endearing tradition of lighting candles for our deceased relatives and putting a shot of whiskey by each on the mantle, Christmas certainly gets its fair share of whiskey appreciation. So does New Years, with its flutes of champagne, each topped off with a little bourbon, a drink an ex-boyfriend introduced me to a couple years ago before our first and only midnight kiss.

But Thanksgiving, I think is where whiskey really fits in nice. It’s perfect with cranberries, with pie spice, with all the sweet and savory flavors of the day. It’s sharp bite cuts through the greasy turkey and if you pick a good, smokey oakey variety it lends a helping hand to what can sometimes be a dry, bland bird. It cleanses the palate after my father’s rich, camembert-studded mashed potatoes. Its sweetness backs up yams like old buddies. Its depth provides a nice contrast to the simple saltiness of broccoli casserole cooked in canned soup and crusted in crackers.

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