Review – The Deacon, Blended Scotch Whisky, (No Age Stated), 40%
If you’re talking to me, I may only be half-listening. This does not mean I don’t like you or that I’m generally disinterested in what you have to say. It simply means that mentally, I’ve strayed into a possible scenario relative to our discussion, and I’m now trapped in an unfortunate attention-sucking downswirl of questions that is leading me to more questions.
For example, I took two of our empty propane tanks to a nearby refilling station. While the attendant, a nice fellow, labored within a small booth of levers, valves, and hoses, he struck up a conversation about new rules for reusing empty tanks—or cylinders, as he called them. By the end of the second rule, I was already wondering what I’d do first if the cylinder he deemed safe and was actively refilling had an unforeseen flaw and exploded, ultimately smearing him along the inside of the booth.
Shocking, I know. But that’s what I was thinking. From there, I wondered about product defect rates. I wondered how corporations calculate the risks. I wondered how many products make it to market each year only to be pulled because their defect rates are too high. I wondered what kept the two rusty metal propane bombs before me from exploding and how it was legal for me to be driving around town with them in the back of my Jeep.
I thanked the man for his help, paid the bill, and loaded the cylinders into the Wrangler. I drove home. Nothing exploded, and no one died. Still, I wondered.
Later that day, I skimmed a study by a Harvard Business School professor who reported that of the nearly 30,000 new products introduced each year, 95% fail and are eventually abandoned. But by fail, he meant the products generally did not meet consumer expectations, or there was no real market for them to begin with. I found another article that noted that the Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) reported 382 product recalls in 2020. It seems recalls only occur after a product is deemed defective, resulting in injuries or death. Defects typically include design flaws, manufacturing errors, and other unseen or unexpected product quirks. The defects result in “falls, fires, burns, choking hazards, lacerations, or poisoning.”
Again, more distractions. I wondered about the term “lacerations.” It doesn’t just mean the product had an unforeseen edge capable of drawing blood. It also means amputation and decapitation. I discovered the determiner “fires” includes explosions. Tangentially, these are the CPSC’s reported outcomes from propane grill explosions, of which there are, on average, 600 per year. About ten are fatal.
I also wondered about the term “poisoning.” Did they mean the kind that immediately sends a person to the hospital under threat of impending death? Does the term also include the slow and steady ingestion of less-than-pleasant chemicals—like the ones I sensed in The Deacon Blended Scotch Whisky? Probably not. Nevertheless, every product recall begins with an initial town crier, someone who announces the dangers. I shall be that someone.
The nose is fine. Let’s just start with the fact that I could sit and sniff this whisky all day, mainly because it’s more like air than whisky. Yes, it’s salty and vegetal, stirring up hints of distant peat. But none of these things are overwhelming. They’re just sort of there. They linger within good and bad’s in-between spaces.
The palate presents a slight sweetness. But it almost seems purposely hidden by a syrupy, artificial peat. Is that because the base alcohol isn’t a product of grain distillation, but instead, is really ethylene glycol, the form of alcohol used in antifreeze that makes it so enticing to pets and small children? I hope not.
The finish, a stringent sour, is the whisky’s most muscular component. It lingers longer than it should as it pries from my insides more questions than it should. As it prattles, I’m already wondering if the antifreeze manufacturers have ever thought about using a chemical that isn’t so sweet. As it turns out, some have. Some have replaced ethylene glycol with propylene glycol. However, most manufacturers remain fixed on the former, mainly because it’s far cheaper.
It’s just a thought, but maybe they should consider The Deacon.
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