"Too much of anything is bad, but too much of good whiskey is barely enough."

The quote in the title is by Mark Twain.

I met a friend for dinner at a French place at 88th and Broadway. I was a bit early, so cozied up to the bar, pulled out some work, and waited for the barman to notice me. He smiled at my geekiness and handed me a drinks menu. I contemplated the wine list, and then the cocktail list; I eyed the ketel one and the olives; but I pulled close to an all-nighter last night and, well, I'm a lightweight. One glass of wine, half a martini: these would push me over the edge, and I'd fall asleep at the reading my friend and I were going to after dinner.

I said, "Barman, I realize it's a tad early, but what do you have in the ways of scotch?"
The Barman rattled off an impressive list of scotches, most of which I'd heard of, and some of which I'd condescended to try, and a few of which simply eluded me.
"Hmm," I said. "Well, I'd say it's down to the Oban, the 18-year McCallan, and the Talisker."
The Barman's eyes lit up: a kindred spirit.
"The problem is," I said, "that I am not comfortable with anything too oaky or peaty. Peat especially displeases me. Is your name Pete?"
"No," he said. "Why don't we have a little tasting?"
"Barman, you are my favourite person in New York right now."

The Barman lined up the Oban, the 18-year McCallan, the Talisker, and one other - Bow something? I forget... - on the bar, taking care that the labels faced me, and placed a heavy-bottomed glass in front of each. He poured a generous sip of scotch in each glass. The men across the bar eyed me enviously, pushing their cocktails away in disgust.

The Talisker, as I suspected, was a tad too smoky; it's aftertaste, even after a glass of water, still lingered, and rather marred, unfortuantely, the subtler delights of the Oban. The third scotch, the Bow-something (seriously, does anyone know what that one might have been?) was eliminated quickly as well. I settled on the McCallan, a lighter scotch than the others, but full of depth and warmth. It's a bit fuller than the McCallan I keep in the house, a bit slower going down.

Of course, by the time I turned back to my work after the tasting, I'd had a good scotch and a half and was nursing a new one, and could not quite focus on the work. Fortunately, my friend chose that exact moment to show up, and I was allowed to enjoy my scotch work-free.