What's the Best Island Whisky

HOW AN IRISHMAN TAUGHT ME TO LOVE SCOTCH

In my early twenties, I moved from Hannover to Karlsruhe. Hannover is notorioulsy Germany's grayest city, so I moved to Germany's sunniest city. Supposedly, Karlsruhe was inspired by the sun's rays shining through branches as the prince napped beneath them. He woke up and planned "Sonnenstadt" setting up the streets to emanate from the palace like sunbeams. He called it Karl's rest, but many called it sun city and still do. Some even say it has ties to sun worship and the occult.

Karlsruhe 1721

There's a grave in the middle of the city that looks like a pyramid. Inside is the prince. It's one of those cities city planners, transit designers, and architects know about. I taught English around town and spent most evenings at a pub called Flynn's Inn.

Dave Flynn was a guy who traveled around the world opening Irish pubs for other people until he got sick of that and opened his own pub in Karlsruhe. Flynn's Inn was where every English-speaker in town congregated. It was home base. Dave was a whisky nut and had a secret stash from Kildare and other parts of Ireland he'd share with regulars and friends.

I think it's safe to say I knew almost nothing about whisky before knowing Dave Flynn.

One of the bartenders, Simon, a kind Irish poet, rented a room from me for a while. And even though I never had any money, Dave took good care of me and even let me take advantage of some whisky tastings. At one of those tastings I had a glass of my all-time favorite Scotch: Scapa 12-year.

It tasted like a little bit of peat mixed with the sea and grass of Scottland. I couldn't get enough. It transported me to windswept cliffs. I got really romantic about this Scotch. The host of the tasting told me they let Scapa Flow flood the distillery every year and do nothing about it. I can't find any evidence of this online, but I like the legend, so I'm going to keep repeating it until the distillers write me and tell me to stop.

My last night in Germany was spent in Flynn's Inn surrounded by friends I'd mostly never see again.

Stateside, I almost never found Scapa, but when I did I flipped out (I found it at the Franklin in Vegas and nearly drank them out of it). And when I was in Europe I usually sniffed some out. Their 12-year tasted like an 18 and brought me back to unknown shores. Little did I know Scapa produced no new juice from 1994 to 2004.

Now there's the Orcadian, widely available at least in the western states.

The Orcadian is a smooth and super-quaffable 16-year. It's all honey and salt and citrus, and so delicious it's hard to compare it to anything the same age. That seems to be the magic of this distillery: everything tastes much older than its age statement claims. That means it's a bargain because something of similar quality with an older statement is usually MUCH more expensive. Also, they claim that their angel's share is far less in comparison to other distilleries because of their location. Scapa is on the bank of Scapa Flow, and they're the second-most northern distillery in Scotland (Highland Park has them beat by half a mile).

The new packaging screaming for Americans to love them makes me think I'll be able to get this for a while into the future. And it's pretty and blue and has a little boat on it, and I love it. 

I miss their 12-year. That might be just my nostalgia. I love the Orcadian and want to drink more of it and tell my stories of my expatriate days when the only place I could speak English was with the other foreigners at Flynn's.

I don't know what happened to his spot in Karlsuhe, but Dave Flynn has a Flynn's Inn in Bonn now, and I hope to visit him some day. 

What Kind of Scotch Should I Get My High Roller

The MACALLAN M at Whiskey Down
Guest Blog by Kanna Smith

Eager to be a part of something new and learn about a spirit that I didn’t even like before, I started working at the brand new Whiskey Down in the middle of the MGM Grand Casino in Las Vegas. I was frustratingly scheduled 1AM-9AM, the hours when sobriety is rare, manners and inhibitions rarer, and small-town women realize the enormous responsibility of high heels.

If there were guests, they were too drunk to drink, or too rude to serve. I had an odd amount of power as a cocktail server: if I didn’t like you, you didn’t drink. You could stumble into any other bar you wanted to in MGM, but I'd have already given my friends there a heads up. Sorry bud, you’re done drinking for the night.

Opening night at Whiskey Down

I tried to exercise caution. I would make the call only when I was certain that the douchebag I was kicking out was just that, a simple drunk douchebag. . . because money talks in Vegas, more so than anywhere else. It screams at you from every machine, every table, every hooker’s eyes as they follow their unsuspecting marks to the bar. And that's what screamed at us when one of the youngest millionaires in the world requested we carry Macallan M at Whiskey Down.

My ears rang when he came in. He was polite, liked whiskey, tipped well, and was a big gambler. There was nothing more I wanted in a guest. He was drunk this evening, more than I had ever seen him.

“Whisky makes me frisky.”
-Some drunk guy probably

“I’d like an M. neat please,” he slurred, eyelids dropping.

I smelled a delicious opportunity in the alcohol on his breath. As I delivered the M, I mentioned my love of whisky and my curiosity surrounding the single malt.

“You’ve never had it?” He asked thickly. I could hear the concern in his voice. I nearly had him.

I blinked coyly, “I can’t afford it." That sealed it. He instructed me to add another to his tab, so I could enjoy it after work.

What followed was the longest shift of my life. I couldn’t wait to try this $730-per-1.5-ounce Scotch! 9AM finally came, and after I tasted the whisky, I nearly did too. I carefully brought the glass to my lips and slowly let the liquid gold touch my tongue. The warm scent of dried apricot melted delicately into flavors of vanilla with a tart plum finish. The first swallow numbed my entire mouth; a sensation I’ve not experienced since.

And though I’ve had the Macallan M once more since that fateful night with my high roller, you know what they say… You never forget your first.

The MACALLAN story »

Thrillist Wrote an Article. I'm in it, and there's a Cartoon of Me, too!

That's me next to Li'l Jon. He used to like to stop by the Lobby Bar at MGM Grand after his sets at Hakkasan to drink tequila; maybe he still does. I don't know anymore because I don't work there anymore. I miss it a lot sometimes, and this article makes me see it all with rosy glasses. It's also really cool to be mentioned in an article like this. It was a long time coming, and I wish I'd been there long enough to print it out and frame it on our wall.

Casey Childers spent a whole 24-hour period in our bar. He saw a lot. It was a slow day, so I wish he'd seen how crazy it got, but he saw enough. He talks about a lot of my team, and it was an honor to work with them.

Check it out.

Geeks Who Drink at Beerhaus

We've been doing Geeks Who Drink quiz night at Beerhaus for a few weeks now, and I think it's pretty awesome. Summer is generally the slowest time in Vegas, so to have locals show up week after week is really cool and really helpful because Beerhaus looks better when there are people in it.

We do Trivia from 8 - 10 every Tuesday night. There are prizes. Beer!

Also, Micky the quizmaster does a little blog recap I like.

Last week, we had 11 teams. The goal is 18 so Micky can get an assistant. I think we're the only one on the strip doing a trivia night like this, so I hope it continues to grow as strip-dwellers hear about it. 

The Eats Counter

Interestingly, there seems to be a problem with people in Las Vegas understanding Beerhaus is a bar that happens to have some food available. Most people get it: we have an Eats Counter where, if you're drinking and want some food, you can go get some. Servers and bartenders serve drinks, and there's a place to get food if you get hungry.

But there are still a few who act like this is the craziest thing they've ever heard. We even have a cool neon sign showing them where to order. This is wasted on such people. We have pagers we give out to alert patrons when their food is ready, and they come and get it, and they are happy with our simple menu, but still there are others who throw up their hands and won't have any of it. It's strange to me.

Anyway, I've been working at Beerhaus. I work 12-15 hours a day and haven't had two days off in a row in almost four months. Everything I was doing in my life has been put on hold for this project, and it's been a crazy experience I hope to write about more as we go.

Do you like bars? Do you like beer gardens? You should check out Beehaus. You'll love it. If you get peckish, follow our retro neon illumination to a successful sating of your hunger.

David Copperfield

When I was a kid, I saw David Copperfield twice. His show was incredible and sparked my imagination for a lifetime. He was a childhood hero. Last night I finally got to see his Vegas show at my work.

My friend Yosuke was visiting from Japan, and we walked around on the strip, and we ended up at MGM Grand because it's on the way to my house. I live in waling distance from my work, so I kind of had to walk through the casino to get home. We stopped for a drink at Centrifuge and the Manager there, Adrian, recommended that we go see David Copperfield. I'd been meaning to see the show, and the timing was perfect.

We got seats right in the middle of the room; fantastic hook up! 

Copperfield's new show isn't the daring, death-defying act that I remember from 20+ years ago, but it is still an awe-inspiring 90 minutes. His illusions are a mix of ones you've loved to see him do on TV a million times and a few that blow you away. There's a dinosaur-sized dinosaur skeleton and a spaceship-sized spaceship that leave you wondering how such huge props were built and how they got them into the theater. And where did they come from? Where were they while the illusion was staging? David Copperfield actually exclaims, "It's a god damned spaceship!" And it is! It's a god damned spaceship. How the hell did they get a god damned spaceship in here?

En bref, j'ame David Copperfield. If you're in Vegas and thinking about seeing a magic show, why not see the greatest illusionist of our time? It's a remarkable display of talent and nearly a half century's worth of experience. 

Ellis Island

Ellis Island is a brewery in Vegas, but who cares? They're not winning any awards any time soon; so what? They're selling their brews for $2.00, and some guy who sounds exactly like R. Kelly is on stage singing Karaoke.

A couple guys sit with me at the bar. They're in Vegas from Colorado to tell resorts if lightning would ever strike the hotel ten times all at once. "No. Well, maybe in ten thousand years. Mostly we tell them what'll happen when the biggest flood Vegas has ever seen comes around." They tell me which properties are safest when Noah's deluge comes round, but the conversation starts and ends with talk of zombie apocalypse. "But we're nice guys; we're not all doom and gloom."

One of the guys sings. it's almost closing time. The lady who sang Amy Winehouse perfectly when I first arrived can hardly stand on stage now. R. Kelly can't read the words on the teleprompter. Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.

It's a great crowd. People carry crooners through the choruses, the Karaoke jockey cranks the back up vocals during the verses. There's no shame to be spotted. A group of black ladies gets up and tries to sing Pussy Cat Dolls.

Last call lumbers in like a Lazarus Bukowski because I thought this place was 24. Most of us shuffle out and find our way to the buffet, which is about to open. I make a quick lap of the casino instead and take in the decor and study their brewery through the glass for a few minutes. I've got to keep moving.

I've had a great time, but I'm in no mood to loiter in the light. There's entropy in the air, and I'm starting to think there's an apocalypse afoot. But isn't there always?

Dino's Lounge

Some people think my life is fancy. It is pretty glamorous. But I also love 24-hour dive bars if they have character. I don't like going to some random shit hole, mind you, but if there's a place boasting character and history, I'm probably totally into it. Dino's is one of those places.

I rolled in there in a suit at 3;30 in the morning. It's across the street from a collection of seedy strip joints and sleazy motels that give the northern part of the Boulevard its reputation. Dino's parking lot is the kind of place where you shouldn't be surprised to find me dead one day.

Inside is everything you want out of a place claiming to be "THE LAST NEIGHBORHOOD BAR IN LAS VEGAS." From the spotty neon to the light-bulb-eyed taxidermy to the signs promising events, to the ceiling tiles painted by local artists, there's plenty for your eyes to drink. The only people in the bar were a couple who'd just moved here from Wyoming or something. They wanted to know how to get casino jobs. I told them to stay drug free.

The bartender told me his name was Ryder. I said bartender's choice, and he said Jame-o. This town's relationship with Jameson is zombie-like. I ended up doing some Jame-o shots with Ryder between Dry Manhattans. Turned out Ryder used to live with one of my cocktail servers. He's perfect at the job. He cares about his room and his customers and seems to know everyone in town. I don't know why he's on Grave, but I'm glad he is because at 5 AM, having a bartender like him is a good thing.

A lady comes in wearing a sexed up costume. She works at one of the sexy-waitress-PBR-slinging-rock-n-roll bars. She and Ryder declare their undying affection for one another.Everyone's happy to be alive in a world where the sun is a dying star. In a good bar, it's always 10 PM. At Dino's who gives a shit? It's dark and the world outside is a shambles.

Cops come in and ask for a guy. He's not in here; it's just Ryder and me who have dicks now. We all give each other looks because the cops being in the parking lot means we're staying for a couple more rounds. Ryder knows how to talk to them, and they're nice to him. They say there's a report of a girl getting dragged unwillingly into a car in the parking lot.The name they want came off a license plate check. The girls says she saw the car when she came in, but it's gone now.

I end up leaving at dawnish promising to return. I probably will soon. I like this place. This is my neighborhood.

Atomic Cocktails

I was really excited about this one. One of the bartenders at Herbs & Rye suggested it as an after-hours spot (they're open until 4), and I love Herbs & Rye, so why wouldn't I love this suggestion?

I went to their website and read about how they found an old safe and how they totally retrofitted everything and how people used to watch the atomic testing from the roof. I was amped.

I walked from the top of Fremont and when I got past El Cortez, there was a fleeting moment when I thought maybe I'm getting too old to just be walking into bad parts of town, and I chuckled to myself. This isn't really the bad part of town, but it is very close, and I've seen worse. It does get darker quickly once you get past the Container Park, though. If I were smaller or a woman, I wouldn't want to walk it.

Once in the door I took in the atmosphere, which is a retro, low-light, very Vegas feel... still in love. I recognize the very bartender who recommended me come here sitting at the far end. I recognize a tourist I'd met the night before. I say hi to both. I sit down. A guy with a beard asks me what I want. Then everything kind of started sucking. I got into conversations with a couple people at the bar about cars, and that was cool, and there was a lady bartender there who seemed to be on her shit, but this bearded guy was far too douchey for the vibe at Atomic Cocktails. Dude rubbed me the wrong way.

I'm not the biggest stickler, especially in Vegas, especially after midnight. But this was my day off, so it was probably only around 7 or 8, and this place came pretty highly recommended. So, to have a douchey bartender is just unacceptable and puts a damper on what was otherwise a good beverage adventure. Plus, his cocktails sucked. I can drink a shitty cocktail from a friendly bartender or a great one from a dick hole, but when you're a prick serving me crappy cocktails, I'd rather just go to a local beer bar and save my money.

I'll probably go back some day and try not to sit in this guy's section because I really liked the feel of the room, but not for a bit. My days off are too few to be sold garbage drinks by a guy whose beard is his most interesting attribute.

The tourist and I went to Le Thai and Downtown Cocktail Room.

The Whiskey Down

The Whiskey Down is one of my favorite places at the MGM Grand. Before I worked there, I enjoyed having a drink at this lounge, and I adored the atmosphere, which is borderline steam-punk meets speakeasy.

Late at night, I help manage the Whiskey Down. The bartenders at night are super sassy/nice. The cocktail waitresses are funny. The atmosphere is awesome. The lighting is mercifully dim.

There are Black Jack tables in there. There are overstuffed couches and low tables. It's the kind of place that invites you to stay for a spell. It's right in the middle of one of the largest casino floors in America, but it feels intimate and private. Edison bulbs help the old-world quaintness, and there's a delightfully curated collection of old bottles and photos on the walls.

There's also whiskey.

If you're in Vegas, come visit. You'll like it.

The Velveteen Rabbit on First Friday.

I'd been wanting to check out the Velveteen Rabbit for a bit.


On First Fridays Art Walk in Las Vegas, there are hot air balloon rides, probably a hundred or so booths, and at least as many food trucks. The arts district here is a fantastic place that couldn't help but remind me of all the Fridays I spent wandering Oakland for Art Murmur. There was a disproportionate amount of street art, spray paint stuff, but other than that, it was great. There were artists doing live paintings, fire workers doing their thing, and more live music than you know what to do with. Also, there were a few art cars on display that I'm sure are cast offs from past Burning Man festivals. First Fridays was great. I wish there were some poetry someplace. . . if there was, I didn't see it.

Bar stands were there, too. You could even text a number and a tequila rep would appear and buy you a drink. And there were mobile ATMs everywhere, too. All and all, just a wonderfully organized event.

There are even free shuttles from Fremont Street. So I went to the container park, got on a double-decker bus, and arrived right at the entrance of the walk. When I was done wandering, I came back to where the bus had dropped me off, and I found out it'd be a few minutes before the next shuttle arrived, and what did I see as I spun around looking for a way to fill my time?! The Velveteen Rabbit! I'd been meaning to get in there, and now was the perfect time!

The blue neon sign is a great clue as to what goes on in there. It's the arts district's mixology bar, replete with elegant DIY lighting, jiggers aplenty, a thick, unpolished bar, and knowledgeable barkeeps that keep things interesting. Super friendly and patient service is what I observed.

I started with one of their seasonal cocktails, asking the bartender what his favorite was. When he suggested one with peach schnapps and mescal, I was slightly apprehensive, but the smokiness balanced by the mellow sweetness was a welcome delight. Then I had a Hank-panky. When you order a drink with Fernet-Branca, "the bartender's handshake," it lets your new friend know you're not just some fuck who doesn't know what he's doing. It was perfect. Then I said one of my favorite things to say: Bartender's choice.

Remember the Maine

He made me a Remember the Maine. I had never had one before, and that's what I love about doing things this way. A new adventure in beverage! In fact, READ THIS ABOUT REMEMBER THE MAINE! It was one of this bartender's favorite classic cocktails, and we got into a pretty awesome conversation about what is great about life in the booze world.

Sidecar

My publisher texted me I should order a Sidecar because he was drinking one in Virginia. So I did, and it was transcendent. One of the bartenders said he went through a long spell when all he drank was Sidecars. I don't often go for them, but I was glad I did that night.

They also have a great beer selection. The tap markers are mannequin hands. A guy next to me was having a hard time trying to decide what to have, and I convinced him to get the Brown from Tenaya Creek. I told him not to sample it, but just get a pint and that if he didn't like it, I'd buy him a round. He loved it. Then he showed me naked pictures of girls he met on Tinder. Girls on Tinder don't send me naked pictures. It cracked me up because what else are you supposed to do in this crazy world where in the span of ten minutes you can have a history lesson taught by a cocktail made in 1933 about a ship exploding in 1898 and then have a guy show you nude photos of a faceless woman on a space age phone after discussing the merit of supporting your local brewery in a city that defies all probability every day?

Big Dog's Brewing

Where I currently call home is right down the street from Las Vegas's oldest brewery, Big Dog's, and I've gone to their draft house a few time because it's pretty fantastic. Last night was the last game of the World Series, and the Giants were in it, and I'd only seen game one and four, so I went to Big Dog's where they have so many screens, you can look around and dig the people while watching the game. Turned out to be one of the best baseball games I'd seen in years, and what a place to watch it.

Vegas is weird when it comes to sports. Since the population is kind of made up of various diaspora, you'll find people loyal to their hometown sports teams everywhere you go. And Nevada doesn't have pro team, so it's different from anywhere I've ever been. For example, if you go to Chicago during baseball season, you're a Sox fan or a Cubs fan, that's it. Here, you can go into a bar and it'll be Giants fans sitting next to Royals fans.

Anyway, this brewery has ten or so beers they make there, and all of them are on point. In particular, I like their Dirty Dog IPA and their Tail Wagger Wheat is one of the better craft Hefeweizens I've had. In addition to that, they also have a huge selection of guest taps. This is a treat because I miss drinking some of the hard-to-get Goose Islands and Firestone Walkers. 

The decor is kind of cowboyish with rustic wood. They just installed glass rinsers at every tap standard, and they have a few kinds of glasses, so their presentation is pretty right on. Video poker at every seat at the bar, and screens EVERYWHERE if you're into that, but also they have a low-light outdoor seating area that they've done up nicely enough you don't feel like you're sitting in a parking lot. The personnel are knowledgeable, and they're acceptably quick even when they're busy as hell.

  

Also, free Wifi, which I shouldn't even have to tell you about, but I hate it when a bar doesn't have free Wifi. In fact, I hate it when any place doesn't have it. How am I supposed to give you free advertisement without it? Ugh, Caesars properties all want to charge you for it, and I abhor them for that. Just another reason to go anywhere else. Anyway, you can go on Untapped and log all your Big Dog's beers here because it's FREE!

I wish they'd have a couple more vegetarian options on their menu. They probably figure they don't have to because most of their clientele seem perfectly cool eating sausages and burgers, but I'm kind of a regular now, and all I get are fries or hummus. I got their Boca burger once, and it was OK. A Greek salad could be cool. or just a discount on getting salads without the meat could be an idea. I don't know, it would be nice to be able to come for dinner there more often.

I ended up sitting next to a guy from Seattle who grew up in Nebraska who liked Kansas City. It was fun watching the game with him until his lady started saying he doesn't watch baseball and was putting him down. I hate rude people like that. But over all, it was a really cool way to watch the Giants win the World Series and have a few great beers. I ordered a flight of five, and the bartender gave me an extra sample of their Oktoberfest "just for fun." I love this place.

Tenaya Creek

I went to Tenaya Creek. It's the second oldest brewery in Las Vegas (15 years). They've won a couple medals at GABF, and it's clear why: their beer is pretty delicious. Their taproom had video poker at every stool, and everyone, patrons and service, was really friendly. I ended up getting in conversations with a few people and even a famous doctor who was in town on holiday.

  

Video poker installed at almost every seat, and they have pinball too. I put 50 cents in their Lord of the Rings machine and played for 40 minutes. I dug their wrought iron flight-holding thing that looked like a sculpture.

They've got a few flagships including a fantastic Brown (not too sweet, a little nutty) and a Pale Ale you could write home about if you wanted to make your mom happy--she doesn't hear from you enough! But they also had a bunch of seasonals that were really quite impressive in that there were five of them and they were all kind of epic. The seasonal that stood out for me was the DIPA and their Barley Wine.

 

Someone ordered a Cosmo, and I asked the bartender if they got much call for that sort of thing. She said a lot of people come for the atmosphere even if they aren't beer people, and I can see why: it's a really chill place with friendly locals. Who wouldn't like that?