REVIEW: Jim Beam Red

Sorry for the delay in updating my blog.  It's been a while, I know.  But ever since my wife caught me spinning a protein web, I've been in the dog house.  No, seriously.  Literally in the dog house without an iPAD or a laptop or wifi or anything.

Anyway, on to the blog...
Here is a classic bourbon that's been around for near about 200 years.  Here's some background for you history buffs:

James D. Beam, founder and original distillerator of bourbon under the same name, was born in Cottonsapple, KY in August of 1799 to Bertha and Reinhold Beamenstien.  Growing up in KY during this period was most difficult for Afro Americans but surely a close runner-up was the American Jewish populus.  Often times, when a black slave went down with dissintary, collora or whatever other malnutrient disease, there would be a Jewish backup "on the bench" as they used to say, ready to take his place.

Often times, Jewish men and women would share a slave rooming house and were often bought and sold as if they were true slaves.  Due to their status, not one Jewish man ever owned a slave.
It was a tumultuous time in America, especially in the South, for a child to grow up in.  Each morning, when Jim was old enough to pitch in, he would get up at 3AM, get the fire started, and cook breakfast for his Father and his younger brother, Tyrone.  The women folk -- and there were plenty of them in the Beam family including Gelda, Unice, Eugenia, Abigale, Wilma and Salteen -- were left to fend for themselves, often times, sharing the leave-behinds of the men folk or, if nothing were left over, they would lick the plates.

If Father Beam was not impressed by the warmth of the house when he arose at 4AM, Jim would receive a beating at the family "Whoopin' Pole" just outside the back door.  The same would apply if breakfast or anything else that Jim prepared, was subpar.  Mother Beam and the rest, dismissed the greusome act as Father Beam being moody due to his slave-like laborous life.

Once Jim fastened his father's boot straps, he handed his Daddy his lunch and off Father Beam went for a day's work in the fields picking cantelopes and rye bread fresh off the vine.  Due to his father's long hours (often 20 hour days in the fields), Jim was given the responsibility of raising the family.  Mother Beam would do many of the chores around the house but Jewish women could never be seen outside the home so, therefore, Jim would tend to the outdoor work which was quite rigoruos - chopping wood, mending fences, plucking hens for pillows to be sold in town each Saturday, milking cows and working in the family vegetable garden.

One evening, after a very long day at work, Father Beam returned home to find Jim masturbating behind the woodpile near the barn.  Sickened by what he saw, he grabbed Jim by the ear, dragged him to the whoopin' Pole and gave Jim a beating that he would speak of in his later years, often making light of it to deflect the pain of this traumatic event. 

Laying in bed that night, as the sheets soaked up fallen tears and uncoagulated blood, Jim knew he had to get out of there lickedy-split.  No more of this, he thought.  Frightened of his father, Jim wasn't sure how to make a run for it.  Then it came to him!  There was a Rick House on Elijah Craig's property where bourbon was aging that he could hide in for a spell.  Later that eve, at the sound of his father's snores, he jostled his jimmy all over his bed -- leaving his mark to infuriate his Daddy -- and took off to the rick house. 

Since the towering structure was downright hot, Jim decided to stay on the first floor of Rick House ZZ, which was 50 stories high.  He emptied one of the lightest barrels and jumped inside, closing the lid on top.
The next morn, Jim was awoken to a fit of nausea and didn't at first realize why.  Then he knew - it was due to the barrel being rolled.  It was very difficult for him to hold in his vomit and just when he thought he couldn't any longer, the barrel stopped and was heaved high into the air and slid into something but what?!
Hearing a door close and the trollup of horse hoofs, Jim knew that he was in a carriage.  Elijah Craig's bottling plant was 10 miles away from the bourbon warehouses and that's when Jim knew that this was his best chance to be free.  When the carriage arrived at the bottling plant, Jim was out of the barrel and waiting for the perfect time to jump.  As he opened the carriage door, he saw people mingling about and knew that he'd have to wait.  Once the carriage pulled into the bottling house, Jim jumped down and ran out the wide open doors.  Looking behind to see if anyone was trailing him, he suddenly came to an abrupt stop and flopped to the ground.  High above him was the face of Elijah Craig himself.  He must have been 7 feet tall with an elogated beard.  Jim didn't know what to do or say, so he just sat looking up at Elijah, while in complete shock.

Elijah, a quick-to-anger Catholic Minister, was ready to lay a whoopin' down on the boy when he realized what a gold mine he just came across.  Oh yes, Minister Elijah sure knew what to do with this down-trottin' boy - put him to work, hard labor, that'll "learn him", thought Elijah.  "What's your name, young'un?"

Frightened, Jim began to sputter knowing full-well not to give his real last name or else he'd be housed with the slaves and treated as such.  "Muh, muh...my name is James...James Dennis Beam."

"Well James Dennis Beam," Elijah announced.  "I'm gonna learn ya some good ole' fashioned hard work boy."  And off the two went.

Over the next 10 years, Jim performed back-breaking work around the Elijah distillerating grounds.  He would carry the barrels up and down the rick house and was responsible for daily manual rotations of each barrel, turning them exactly 172 degrees.  Essentially, Jim was a slave of Elijah and his eldest son, Richard.  Jim often took severe beating from Richard who was jealous of the ever handsome boy-turned-young-man, Jim, and would often try to beat some ugly into him.  It never did work though, as Jim morphed into a ruggedly handsome man that women moaned to be around.  No noodle tossing for Jim, he was a fuck machine and Richard despised him for it and did everything he could to seperate Jim from the ladies but to no avail.

One evening, while out about town, Jim, decided to pop into McSwiggley's house of ill-repute.  Though he could get the ladies for free, Jim somehow like paying for them.  So after laying down $2 on the bar, he took a shot of Elijah bourbon and sauntered up the stairs to pick a special lady friend for the eve.  As he reached the top and turned down the hallway, he noticed a line of men waiting for their turn with one of the 15 ladies of night. 

Fridays were always busy and Jim didn't mind waiting.  As he sat down reading the latest copy of Horses and Whores magazine, he glimpsed up and to his right to see Richard Craig - the devil himself.  Oh how Jim despised Richard - hated him, actually.  Richard had a wiley smile on his face and was with one of his friends.  Jim looked back down to continue his reading (or at least pretend to) when he received a mighty blow to his face and down to the floor he went.  He quickly got up and, realizing that Richard kicked him in the face, he launched himself toward the laughing Dick and drove him back hard into the railing which gave way.  As Richard tumbled backwards, Jim noticed that his smile quickly disapeared. As Richard crashed to the main floor below, he cracked his skull on the brass shoulder of the bar and died instantly. As the lady folk screamed, a man yelled above cries and pronounced Richard dead. 

Jim raced like a horse to a trolly and skeedadled out the rear entrance of the whore house.  Not knowing what to do, he decided to cool down by the fishing pond next to Cracklin's Stable and stayed awful still and quiet while he gathered his thoughts, alert to every sound.

Calming himself down, Jim knew he had to to Father Elijah, and the sooner the better.  He hauled off back to Elijah's distillerator and entered the Craig home.  He was immediately greeted by Elijah's wife, Taniqwa who escorted him into the living room to relax.  As she conjured up Eljah, Jim was trying to figure the words he'd use to tell Elijah was had happened.

When he finally spat out the words, "Sir, I dun killt your son, Richard, accidentally.  We dun got into a fight and he felled over a railin' and died."

Shocked, Elijah raised his hand as Jim sat with his head down crying on the coach.  But as he was about to lay into him, Taniqwa grabbed his hand and said, "P'haps  we should tell Jim about Richard. 
As Elijah and Taniqwa sat to either side of Jim, she began to tell the story.  "You see, Jim, ever since Richard was a little boy, he was...oh well...umm, you know...different.  He would often play with his ummm...anus and try to put thing in there..."

As Taniqwa attempted to tell the story, Elijah cut in, "Stop you jabberin', woman.  Look, Jim, Richard was a homo.  He liked men and he was an evil-doer for it too.  Shoot boy, you did what me and Taniqwa have been wantin' to do for years."  They both immediately embraced Jim and said in unisone, "Your like the boy we never had."

Elijah stood up and said, "Let's celebrate with some of the best bourbon I'd ever made."  As Jim fetched the whiskey, Jim packed the very tan Taniqwa's fudge, buttered her sticky buns and was all cleaned up before Elijah returned. 

"Here you go, boy.  Take it.  And let's drink a toast.  To a job well done, Jim.  And you know what?  Not only is that bottle yours but the new distillerator that I'm building is all for you.  I'll get that 'BEAM' name up on the entry-way arch first thing tomorrow morning and off you go with your own distileraration business."

And that's how Jim D. Beam started making bourbon.


Okay, on to the review.

Jim Beam Read 78 proof

It pours like a sulfite explosion, enveloping my Glenn Karen glass.  As I swirl its contents, I notice the nice long arms that stick to the sides of the glass like maple syrup.  Nostril fucking the glass, I pickup notes of sod, wisdon, grass weed, urine of a pug dog, caramel, ants and worm wood.

As I engage the glass, I feel the tickle of alcohol and the burn of the tannins.   While this spirit dances upon my tongue, I taste wild bush, granite, parsley, copper, ginger sprouts and mandeline (yes, the musical instrument).  The end is quite long.  In fact two week after having first tasted this luschous new love, it is still with me.

Wow, what a ubiquitous devil of a bourbon this is.  A true Budweiser of bourbon and that's a compliment as we all know Bud is the best beer this blue earth hath ever seen.

Rating Scale
50+ putrid
40-50 below average
30-40 average
20-30 good
10-20 very good
0-10 excellent

My Score: 3