At my core I’m some Blanche DuBois ass sipper who gets hit with the kindness of strangers. I can’t drop seven bills on that minty green, so big thanks to Mr. Jaquay for holding me down like whoa with Bookers Rye. Regular Bookers is my solid work horse and I constantly sing the praises of the age stated cask strength gospel. When they dropped a limited number of teenage spicy rye bebes my mash was instantly soured. $300 a bottle retail means that dudes who still pay HOAs are about to get a sweeet upflip payday. Nose is far more tame than I expected and it’s a bit of wintergreen, arugula, red hots candies, and a touch of that captain crunch spent milk at the end a smattering of heat, staggeringly well integrated and the age is spot welded tightly. Taste brings those Satchel Page heaters high and inside. It’s classic Beam, brash massive and if you had a weapon X experiment to cross breed saz18s grace and polish with the 8th grade sick day jack off session intensity of T H Handy, this would be it. It’s leafy but sweet and fiery a sip lasts almost too long, it just keeps going and running a flanger pedal like some spacey Phish set that compels wristwatch consultation. Finish almost aligns closer to the bourbon sweetness akin to b25, so if you aren’t a rye purist you will enjoy this weird kinda cross over. But is this worth more than shit like saz18, gts? Ehhhh. If anything it’s like a less graceful Mendel pollination of the two and this snap pea is decidedly dominant in its spinner Square alleles. Too much so for most people, it’s how it feels when your liver chews Five gum. It kinda exists in this weird realm of strength and age in ryes that only willett fills. For the money, get a 9-12 year Willett but if you have I dunno $60 kicking around and want to impress your tinder date at a bar, order this and talk about how Kid Cuisine Brownies were always too hot. Downstairs flooding imminent.