What non Whiskey or Rum Spirit (Cognac, Mezcal, Calvados etc) are we drinking?

Celtic Whiskey Quinta do Noval Tawny Port Tasting €45

What's in the pack?
5 x 71ml samples
Join us for a virtual tasting with the fantastic Quinta do Noval Tawny Ports! This tasting pack features samples of the Noval Tawny Reserve, Noval 10 Year Old Tawny Port, Noval 20 Year Old Tawny Port, Quinta do Noval Colheita 2005 Tawny Port and Quinta do Noval Colheita 2000 Tawny Port.

https://www.celticwhiskeyshop.com/Quinta-do-Noval-Tawny-Port-Tasting?search=quinta%20noval%20tasting

BonnieSituation wrote: »

Thought you'd be al over that. But the fruit brandy one below that in the mail piqued my interest more tbh:

Eau de Vie Distillerie Nusbaumer
Tasting Pack - 28th April

.

Spent a load this week so have given the Port a miss. If it's still on sale next week though..... Got the Eau de Vie pack. Another new one for me. Should be interesting.

Black Sheep wrote: »

Got a bottle of Clase Azul Reposado for the missus.

Impressive bottle anyway, if you can even call it that. More like an urn crossed with a vase.

Lovely bottle. One to keep when finished.

An account by the founder of Del Maguey on how copitas became synonymous with mezcal consumption. In the following excerpt from his book, Ron Cooper explains how these tiny terra cotta cups came to be.

As civilization evolved, so did vessels. Humans learned to form and then fire clay. The first pots used for storing food and water probably date to 10,000 BCE. When I started looking for a vessel I could use for tasting mezcal, I settled on clay, an organic material. I wanted to mimic the traditional vessel used to taste mezcal, the jícara, a thin-walled, hollowed-out gourd sometimes decorated with etchings on the outside of the bowl. As a material, the gourd skin is porous, it breathes. When you pour mezcal into it, the jícara drinks its share. Over time, the mezcal cures the bowl, but the bowl imparts nothing to the spirit. When you bend your face to it for a sip, you’re enveloped by aromas from the mezcal. There is no intense alcohol burning your nose, just the smell of roasted maguey, mineral, fruit, flower overtones.

I met the Benítez family in the Central de Abastos market, where I’ve found so many treasures over the years. They were selling their pottery, which they make on Cerro del Fortín. It’s the hill overlooking Oaxaca where the traditional dances for the annual Guelaguetza festival are held. (Guelaguetza, held on consecutive Mondays in the second half of July, celebrates native culture through costume and dance. The event is ancient, with roots in pre-Hispanic sacrifices offered to the god of corn. The word Guelaguetza comes from the Zapotec for “exchange of gifts”; the dances performed are considered offerings from one tribe to another.) I once saw a photo of the Cerro del Fortín from the 1930s or ’40s: there were no roads. Just old cars and people scattered like ants across the hillside. The Benítez family has made pottery there for generations.

I worked with them to design a copita that, like the jícara, would breathe. We worked on the shape, which has morphed slightly over the years, but is basically a squat cup that stands roughly an inch high. It holds a perfect measure of mezcal and sits comfortably in the hand. It’s the perfect size for hiding in your pocket. I always carry mine in my jeans or my jacket—you never know when someone will want to pour you a nice mezcal. No one has ever been able to shape the copitas like the Benítez clan. The family’s old abuelo passed away a while back, but I remember him clearly, leaning against a wall before his wheel, kicking a four-foot-tall volcano of clay around and around, shaping copitas by the hundreds per day.

The copitas have taken on a life of their own. I’ve read misguided articles that claim they are traditional Oaxaca artifacts. They are not. They’re all me. They were invented out of necessity, but I’m always pleased when a bar or restaurant wants to use them for serving our mezcal. When people come to visit me in Oaxaca, I give them a copita and make a little drawing on the foot of it for them. It’s my way of saying thank you.

As I’ve mentioned, vessels are a recurring theme in my art. In my early works, they held water. I’ve always found water to be a beautiful and powerful element to work with. In later works, my vessels held mezcal, the sacred juice. The vessels were like goddesses: the womb, the container of life. Mezcal was the food, feeding the skull, the container of light. For me, a work of art is successful if, in the making of it, a question is generated. The answering of that question becomes the next work. The sculpted vessel led to the liquid contained therein; working in the avant-garde led me to the ancient.