Thirsty Thursday Eve - The Legendary Bottle of Southern Comfort
Coincidentally, I happened to post Thirsty Thursday Eve topics on the last Wednesday of the month for three months in a row. So I inadvertently made it a thing. Hence, the last Wednesday of each month will be a Thirsty Thursday Eve post for as long as I remember to do it.
This month’s Thirsty Thursday Eve is less of a review or recommendation, and more of a tale. A story of my decision to purchase a full bottle of liquor on the recommendation of a friend, and the disappointed journey that followed. I discovered that I strongly dislike Southern Comfort, so at least I learned something from the experience.
The beginning of this story takes us back to soon after I turned 21. Like many people who reach this milestone age, I was trying numerous different types of alcohol just to figure out what I did and didn’t like. I’ve always been a rule-follower and come from a very conservative family, so my exposure to alcohol was extremely limited before I could legally buy it for myself. I knew I liked Smirnoff Ice and I didn’t care much for Bud Light or Fat Tire, but that’s about as far as it went.
One source of inspiration was trying what my friends liked. My first legal mixed drink was a Long Island Iced Tea at the recommendation of my cousin, which remains perhaps my favorite beverage to order from a bar. (Note: I don’t recommend making a Long Island at home. Far too many ingredients, required in too little quantities. Just get one from Cheddar’s.) I discovered my affinity for Jack Daniel’s and its variations through friends. My friends typically know their alcoholic beverages, and rarely steer me wrong.
The one exception to these good recommendations was Southern Comfort. A friend from Upstate absolutely loved “SoCo.” So much so, I’d be surprised if her blood didn’t run with some percentage of SoCo in it. It was (and I assume still is) her favorite type of alcohol without question. I decided that if she liked it so much, surely it would be worth getting some. No need to even try it, I just went ahead and bought a fifth of it.
It was upon opening this bottle that I learned of my grave mistake. Unscrewing the lid, I took a whiff. Typically, most people advise against smelling an alcohol before tasting it, but curiosity always gets the better of me. The scent is typically much worse than the flavor, but that’s life. Southern Comfort has a medicinal scent, something like cherry cough syrup. Unfortunately, it tastes almost identical to how it smells.
As I downed the first shot, I had flashbacks of all the cough medicine I took as a kid. And I don’t mean the Dimetapp that everybody wanted to take. I’m talking about that awful, reddish brown bottle, that lingers in your mouth no matter how much you drink or eat after taking it. After I recovered from the awful flavor I had just brought upon myself, the buyer’s remorse set in. I was the regretful owner of nearly a full fifth of Southern Comfort. Woe is me.
Some would throw it out. Some might give it away. Because I have a penchant against wasting money, I held onto it. Other bottles came and went. I tried new things, discovered a few that I liked, a few that I didn’t care for, and eventually finished these bottles. But that pesky bottle of Southern Comfort… it hung around.
When friends came over, if they hadn’t tried Southern Comfort before, I encouraged them to try a shot of it, and I would always reciprocate. I’m not sure if it was to see if I still hated it as bad as I did the first time, or if I harbor some sort of self hatred, but every sip was as bad as the first. Oddly enough, not a single friend had anything positive to say about SoCo. Which still begs the question, why do you like it so much Megan? Alas, my bottle of Southern Comfort came off the shelf for dares, offerings to the unfortunate, and the occasional nip when I was intoxicated enough that it didn’t taste AS bad.
Nearly 7 years, the bottle sat. It migrated across 3 home addresses, a few city lines, and journeyed much further than any bottle of alcohol has any right to. But fatefully, it met its demise just a few weeks ago. A friend on hard times stayed for a few days, during which we had a few drinks. My bottle of Southern Comfort, down to its last inch or so, looked like a finish line just over the next hill. Sure, the climb would be rough, but the end was in sight. We poured a convenient 2 shots, and the bottle was empty. Clinking the shot glasses together, we knocked back the last of a liquor that I thought I’d never finish.
Everyone has different tastes, but Southern Comfort just isn’t for me. If you haven’t tried it before and want to, get a mini bottle or maybe a half pint if sharing with friends. But please, please do not make the same mistake I did and buy a fifth before learning that you hate it. You’ll only find disappointment inside.
This month’s Thirsty Thursday Eve is less of a review or recommendation, and more of a tale. A story of my decision to purchase a full bottle of liquor on the recommendation of a friend, and the disappointed journey that followed. I discovered that I strongly dislike Southern Comfort, so at least I learned something from the experience.
The beginning of this story takes us back to soon after I turned 21. Like many people who reach this milestone age, I was trying numerous different types of alcohol just to figure out what I did and didn’t like. I’ve always been a rule-follower and come from a very conservative family, so my exposure to alcohol was extremely limited before I could legally buy it for myself. I knew I liked Smirnoff Ice and I didn’t care much for Bud Light or Fat Tire, but that’s about as far as it went.
One source of inspiration was trying what my friends liked. My first legal mixed drink was a Long Island Iced Tea at the recommendation of my cousin, which remains perhaps my favorite beverage to order from a bar. (Note: I don’t recommend making a Long Island at home. Far too many ingredients, required in too little quantities. Just get one from Cheddar’s.) I discovered my affinity for Jack Daniel’s and its variations through friends. My friends typically know their alcoholic beverages, and rarely steer me wrong.
The one exception to these good recommendations was Southern Comfort. A friend from Upstate absolutely loved “SoCo.” So much so, I’d be surprised if her blood didn’t run with some percentage of SoCo in it. It was (and I assume still is) her favorite type of alcohol without question. I decided that if she liked it so much, surely it would be worth getting some. No need to even try it, I just went ahead and bought a fifth of it.
It was upon opening this bottle that I learned of my grave mistake. Unscrewing the lid, I took a whiff. Typically, most people advise against smelling an alcohol before tasting it, but curiosity always gets the better of me. The scent is typically much worse than the flavor, but that’s life. Southern Comfort has a medicinal scent, something like cherry cough syrup. Unfortunately, it tastes almost identical to how it smells.
As I downed the first shot, I had flashbacks of all the cough medicine I took as a kid. And I don’t mean the Dimetapp that everybody wanted to take. I’m talking about that awful, reddish brown bottle, that lingers in your mouth no matter how much you drink or eat after taking it. After I recovered from the awful flavor I had just brought upon myself, the buyer’s remorse set in. I was the regretful owner of nearly a full fifth of Southern Comfort. Woe is me.
Some would throw it out. Some might give it away. Because I have a penchant against wasting money, I held onto it. Other bottles came and went. I tried new things, discovered a few that I liked, a few that I didn’t care for, and eventually finished these bottles. But that pesky bottle of Southern Comfort… it hung around.
When friends came over, if they hadn’t tried Southern Comfort before, I encouraged them to try a shot of it, and I would always reciprocate. I’m not sure if it was to see if I still hated it as bad as I did the first time, or if I harbor some sort of self hatred, but every sip was as bad as the first. Oddly enough, not a single friend had anything positive to say about SoCo. Which still begs the question, why do you like it so much Megan? Alas, my bottle of Southern Comfort came off the shelf for dares, offerings to the unfortunate, and the occasional nip when I was intoxicated enough that it didn’t taste AS bad.
Nearly 7 years, the bottle sat. It migrated across 3 home addresses, a few city lines, and journeyed much further than any bottle of alcohol has any right to. But fatefully, it met its demise just a few weeks ago. A friend on hard times stayed for a few days, during which we had a few drinks. My bottle of Southern Comfort, down to its last inch or so, looked like a finish line just over the next hill. Sure, the climb would be rough, but the end was in sight. We poured a convenient 2 shots, and the bottle was empty. Clinking the shot glasses together, we knocked back the last of a liquor that I thought I’d never finish.
Everyone has different tastes, but Southern Comfort just isn’t for me. If you haven’t tried it before and want to, get a mini bottle or maybe a half pint if sharing with friends. But please, please do not make the same mistake I did and buy a fifth before learning that you hate it. You’ll only find disappointment inside.
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