Jeopardy champion Ken Jennings once said that analyzing a joke is a lot like dissecting a frog. Nothing much by way of knowledge is gained from the effort, and the subject dies somewhere along the process.
I am standing at the precipice of ignoring Jennings’ warning, because god help me, we're going to partially dissect what makes something fun in terms of spirits. I gave this some thought, and I think I can sell you on Abasolo and fun in general by talking about what these things are not.
Consider the distillery that describes an old man getting up at four in the morning, trudging through the bitter cold of Scotland in the winter, and pushing a rake over a floor of barley. Or maybe the mezcal producer who spends 364 out of every 365 days harvesting wild strains of agave that can only be found on the side of a craggy mountain, all while he bakes under the Sonoran sun and his skin develops the consistency of beef jerky.
All of this is top-notch stuff if the goal is to rub our faces in the idea that good spirits are made in the old traditions, and that so much diligence and toil is the only sure way to ensure quality, and that all of our booze is because grandpa had a really fucking hard go of things, and if you ask him, that’s what makes a man.
I get it, but to encounter it so often is exhausting. And getting to my point, “fun” where spirits are concerned is sometimes the exact opposite of that.
“The heart and soul of Abasolo is corn. Rich, earthy, and multifaceted corn. ”
Abasolo came my way as a gift from a good friend who had researched a few interesting booze things. And surprise! Her gift was an unexpected one even for a booze-knowing guy like me. She discovered that bartenders liked Abasolo because it was new, because it combined well with a lot of different and exciting ingredients, because it was affordable, and because there wasn't much else like it. Sold!
The heart and soul of Abasolo is corn. I reviewed Mellow Corn before. I quite liked it, as some of you might remember, because it was a budget spirit to beat the band. In comparison, Abasolo looks and tastes a little more sophisticated. The corn here is rich, earthy, and multifaceted. The aroma reminds me of the flavors that come off the pan when I sauté corn. On the palate, it tastes like the corn one finds in Mexican cuisine, supported by various peppers and onions. And in the finish, the rustic nature of the grain is on full display.
Because of all that, it's accurate to characterize this as a “one note” spirit, but I think to do so is a little disingenuous. Sometimes something simple and honest is all you need, like a fresh orange or a few slices of salami. As a result, you can play with this spirit and combine bitters or liqueurs, but if you have it alone, it's very good. It needn't hide behind anything.
If you do want to play with this, there's a really intriguing liqueur that came on the market called Nixta. It's a corn liqueur. The bottle is shaped like an ear of corn. As I once read someone say of huge car engines, “Nothing exceeds like excess.” The same holds true here as well: the Corn-on-Corn combo is delightful. Sweet corn and earthy corn, married together in a big corn wedding. No notes!
Flaws? Well, surely it is fun, but at the end of the day and under the threat of torture, maybe I'd admit that all of that super serious stuff does make a difference. Abasolo punches you right in the nose, and there's a little throat tickle on the finish. Especially for those who don't like corn (or Bourbon), the dominant flavor might be a dealbreaker. I also don’t know how enthusiastic I’d be of this flavor if I had it as a daily nightcap for a week or so.
For everyone else, I think it's great. A friend of a friend once explained that her love of scotch was that it was a whiskey that always tasted like something. Well, friends: here's a whiskey that tastes like corn, in all of its permutations and all of its glory. The world is better with more products like this in it, unashamed to do one thing really well.
