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“Don’t lean out the car like that my friend, you could die” said the taxi driver. But I needed the air. It was four in the morning and I was hanging on for dear life. Two hours ago I had been in a basement bar in London drinking WILD TURKEY.
This particular bar sits on a small alley that cuts off the corner of Oxford Street. It’s managed by Spaniards and the man who served me looked like John Claude Van Damme with a beard. As we entered the bar, Van Damme and a larger barman were arguing with a suited drinker about whether he pushed in. There was lots of finger pointing which escalated to pushing and shoving - all this was taking place to Dancing in the Dark by Bruce Spingsteen, which was playing on the 70s Juke Box by the front door. The staff always seem a little on edge in Bradleys.
Three doubles of Wild Turkey left me only a few coins change from a twenty note and the stifling heat meant I was drinking more hastily. A few more and I was beginning to appreciate the unsubtle flavours of the drink.
Wild Turkey 8 Year is a hot woody bourbon that most people try to tame with ice. I took it straight. This makes it a harder to drink but the smell and flavour aren’t lost in the melting stale bar water that ice rapidly becomes in a hot basement.
After a few glasses you start to taste honey and smoke notes that seem to linger in there amongst pine trees and a general taste of the Old West - if the Old West has a taste, that’s what it would taste like.
At 101 proof, Wild Turkey is a wild drink and should be approached with caution. I would say drink responsibly, but that wouldn’t be any fun now would it?