This Didn't Suck

A full recap of our trip to Venezuela is in the works.  In the meantime, please enjoy this picture of me sipping rum while reclining on a comfortable lounge chair at our hotel in Puerto la Cruz.

Oh, and fear not.  What may look like a meager quantity of liquid gold was but the first of many rums I drank by the sea on this day.

nwb

McBone Is Back

At McBone, the rum is never gone.  Here is a picture of me enjoying the latest addition to the McBone family of rum (currently boasting 9 bottles from various locations in the Caribbean), an absolutely outrageous Santa Teresa 1796:

'Ron Antiguo de Solera'  Translation: 'Kick-ass fucking rum!'

God DAMN, that's good.

Aged in French oak for 15 years, it is impossible to imagine a smoother, spicier, more harmonious beverage than this producto de Venezuela, quite possibly the new crown jewel in our glass menagerie.

And yet, this tale was almost one of tragedy.  After an 11-day sejour in the Republica Bolivariana de Venezuela, I flew home solo, leaving my sometimes popular wife in Caracas to spend a few more days with the familia.  Upon opening my baggage, I discovered that the bottle of 1796 we procured had not survived the journey home.  In the suitcase, resting among the shards, was an unapologetic note from US customs.  My bag had been rifled through, re-packed all willy-nilly, and sent on its merry way.  I beheld the shattered remains of the Santa Teresa and I wept.  I wept as I washed the rum out of our clothing.  And then I wept myself gently, gently to bed. 

Happily, my wonderful, beautiful, sometimes popular wife surprised me with another bottle of the 1796, one who enjoyed a much safer flight back to the States.  Tonight, Santa Teresa joins 8 companions on our bar.

The Fellowship of the Rum

Every time we drink, we shall remember their fallen sister.

Happy new year, everyone.

nwb