Here's the scenario: You fill a cask (let's say a barrel or 31 gallons) of fresh distillate that is sixty percent alcohol by volume. The other forty percent is water.

Every year, two percent of the contents of the barrel evaporates.

Eight years later, you tap the cask and bottle. The question I have is thus: What's the Alcohol content of the spirit?

The reason I ask (and I admit, I should really know this by now), is that I cannot get anyone in the industry to give me a straight answer. I had an heir apparent to a whiskey empire tell me it's mostly the alcohol that evaporates. Elsewhere, I had a marketing director tell me it was the water that evaporates. The books I have read have given me either vague or contradictory answers. And the two times I had the opportunity to ask a master distiller, I forgot completely to bring it up.

As I wrote in the Heritage Bourbon post, my belief is that both alcohol and water will evaporate, but the ration depends on several variables, like heat, humidity, etc. etc. Am I close?

Is there a rule or law that will help me understand just what the heck is going on?

About once a year, I get suckered into thinking that maybe, just maybe, cold cuts or some other meat-type product, mayonnaise or some other condiment type product, and soft wheat tortillas wouldn't be a horrible idea. This, in the common vernacular, is a wrap. Soon afterward I realize that I was horribly, horribly wrong.

They are sold everywhere now, from your grocer's deli, to franchised restaurants. My questions are - how and why? How did this happen? Why do people find these an acceptable substitute for either a decent sandwich or the often better burrito?

These things are horrible. Horrible. Never again.

Until probably next year.

I haven't done one of these in a while, as I needed to take a break from whiskey after going non-stop on them for nearly two months straight. Don't get me wrong, I loved the recent trips abroad and at home, but too much of a good thing will quickly become a bad thing. Thus, the break. Meanwhile, I'm still putting in about 1000 words a day for the book, and will soon start the final editing process before handing off to my agent and publisher. But I'll talk about the book later.

I got to taste this whiskey first hand at a visit to Heaven Hill, where Lynne and Dan led Krysta and myself in our own tasting event. Out of the several bourbons tasted, this is the one I migrated to, even though it was at cask strength.

What I'm about to say will likely tick a few whiskey folks off, but meh, I don't think I've ever been too concerned about that. Cask strength whiskey is essentially a whiskey that has not had water added to it after aging. As a whiskey ages, a fair amount of evaporation occurs (to the tune of 2% a year), most of that water. So the whiskey will be stronger coming out of cask than it was going in.

This has become, what's known in the marketing biz, a "thing". Something to which they can upsell and mark-up the price of the whiskey by a few dollars and get even more profit from the customer.

The problem lies in the fact that, depending upon a consumers taste buds, alcohol is an anesthetic. Too high of a proof, and the taste buds, and nasal receptors literally become numb. And when these become numb, tasting...true tasting...becomes nigh impossible. The only way to rectify this is to add water to the whiskey, and bring it down to a point where the alcohol doesn't numb the senses.

However, there are a few knuckleheads out there who don't understand the above issue. So when water is added to a whiskey, they look at you as if you just spat upon a holy book. To them, let me say this clearly...if you want to taste a cask strength whiskey, you almost always have to add water. (As a side note, I've talked and drank with dozens of whiskey professionals, from master distillers to professional tasters to whiskey shop owners. Every single one of them added some water to their drinks. Not a one of them ever drank it straight. Of course the amount of water differed, but water was always added. Take that, you "purists".)

So what is the big deal surrounding cask strength whiskeys? From my experience, once you deal with the excess alcohol, what is there is a whiskey that is far more complex in flavors than what one typically finds on the shelf of your liquor store. This is why I think that "Cask Strength" whiskeys deserve attention, not because they are a higher proof.

Parker's Heritage Collection Bourbon was the whiskey that caught my attention while at Heaven Hill, and I had no problem in shelling out the $120 dollars for a bottle. I find that some bourbons push their oak-y flavors too far, and in fact, many distilleries strive to keep their spirits out of the barrels due to this same fear. This bottle pushes that time limit as far as it could go, without becoming excessively woody in it's flavor. Oak flavors are there, at least a little, but with them was a nice cola undercurrent, with a little raisin and of course the ever present dark sweetness that bourbons are known for. It wasn't overly sweet, nor dry, and struck a real nice balance upon my palate.

Out of the several bourbons we had whilst in Kentucky, this was the one of three that stood out. I'll get to the second and third in different posts.

If you have the money, and don't mind working with Cask Strength Whiskeys, I recommend Parker's Heritage Collection.

I want to thank those who offered their opinion about what they like and don't like about Accidental Hedonist. You've gone a long way in determining just where I should focus my interests.

At least anecdotally, it seems as if a great majority of the people like the mish-mash of topics covered here. I find a great relief in that, as my own interests vary in the food world, and I think I would go crazy if I had only one topic to write about.

That being said, a fair many people have said some variation of "less food politics, more food". I will work to do that. I will touch on the politics of food every once in a while, for I believe that politics, like cussing, should be allowed every once in a while, if only to shock people out of their complacency.

I'm going to try to go back to researching and writing about foods of other countries, as well as return to the in depth look at ingredients. There is only one problem with this that I can see at this time, that of time. Between my full time job, as well as the book writing, time has become a valuable commodity. The days when I could research and publish two different recipes per week simply is not possible at this time. However, I think I can manage writing about ingredients one week, and then foreign foods the next, lather, rinse, and repeat.

Oh, and you guys will still get to hear about whiskey, and the polls will stay. The whiskey topics, simply because that is what I am working on, and the polls because they garner the largest amounts of comments and foster interesting conversations.

Again, thanks to all! Your input was greatly appreciated.

(Promoted from the Diaries - K)

If you, like me, found yourself stuck partway through Omnivore's Dilemma, here is Michael Pollan at Google -- speaking on food versus nutrition.

In the recent post regarding Cahill Whiskey Cheese, several people brought up the Cahill Porter. So in the interest of fair play, and ensuring that the folks who weren't aware of the porter cheese were filled in on this other Irish cheese, I sought out the cheddar.

Yeah, that sounds like I went on a great journey, but in all honesty, I simply went to the same supermarket, to the same cheese counter, and looked at the shelf above. Voila! It wasn't difficult at all.

I've had the Porter cheese before, as it's quite an interesting looking specimen, almost guaranteed to stand out amongst the other cheeses on the plate. The dark brown marbling I find quite aesthetically pleasing for some reason. Those with a keener knowledge of cheese making would know that the marbling is indicative of the process of cheddaring.

Yes, this is another cheddar cheese, related to everything from Monterey Jack to the Whiskey Cheddar mentioned previously. The sharp tang of the cheddar is still there, albeit a tad understated, as the deep earthiness of the porter subdues it to some extent. This isn't a criticism, as this is what makes this cheese so distinctive flavor-wise.

Much like the Whiskey cheese, the flavor of the porter comes out strongest on the finish. A point should be made the the porter-taste isn't a bonk-you-over-the-head strong, but more subdued - prevalent, but subdued.

If asked to rate, it would simply state that I would purchase this cheese again, even seek it out from time-to-time. It's a very good cheese, but not my favorite. I enjoyed the Whiskey Cheese far more, but that's a reflection on how good the whiskey cheese was, not on the quality of the porter cheese.

There's a problem in trying to deliver content on a daily basis. As the size of the food world is so huge, it's easy to lose focus on one specific topic. There are so many options to write about, that sometimes no choice is actually made.

So I had a thought - What would you daily readers like to see more of on Accidental Hedonist? More food politics? Back to talking about specific foods and ingredients? More whisky and liquor posts? More polls more often?

I'm willing to consider writing about anything, as long as it's food (or travel) related, and as long as it's within my resources to research.

I was in the mood for something new, yet still familiar, which is a weird mood to be in. The foods in which I was regularly acquainted weren't good enough, but anything new that seemed too exotic were also quickly dismissed. This is a mood best described as "picky" or "annoying as hell". Picture the following:

Inner voice: How about puttanesca?

Me (whiny): Nnnnnoooo. We just had that last week.

IV: Pork Chops

Me: Ugh. No.

IV: You could make something Spanish.

Me: What are you, high?

IV: That's it, I'm outta here.

Isn't it always the case? Just when you discover that the world is your oyster, you find yourself tired of shellfish.

Luckily I came across this Cook's Illustrated recipe, which shut down the urge to be a pain in the ass to anyone who suggested a dish to try. It's new, at least to me, as I have never tried to make it before. But yet it's similar enough to chicken cacciatore, that I knew what to expect when all was said and done.

This is one of those dishes that one might be tempted to replace the water with chicken stock. Resist this temptation at all cost! There is enough flavor from the onions, tomatoes, and pancetta, that any flavor the stock might bring will be overwhelmed.

• 8 Chicken thighs
• salt and pepper
• 4 oz. pancetta, diced
• 1 large white onion, diced
• 5 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 Tbsp. All-purpose Flour
• 1/2 cup dry vermouth
• 1/2 cup water
• 1 14.5 oz can of diced tomatoes, drained
• 1/2 cup niçoise olives, pitted and chopped
• 1/4 cup basil, minced

Salt and Pepper the chicken thighs to taste. Set aside.

In a Dutch Oven or large stock pot, cook the pancetta over medium heat until crispy, roughly 5 minutes or so. Remove the pancetta from the pan, but leave the residual grease. Place in the chicken thighs, skin side down, and turn up the heat to high. Fry until golden brown, roughly six to eight minutes. Turn over chicken with tongs and allow to cook for three minutes on the non-skin side of the thighs. Remove the pot from heat, and transfer the chicken to plate to cool. Remove all but 2 Tablespoons of the remaining fat.

Add the onion and 1/2 teaspoon of salt. Place over medium heat and cook until the onions just start to become translucent. Meanwhile, scrap any of the remaining brown fronds from the chicken and pancetta off of the bottom of the pan and mix into the onions. Add in the garlic and flour, and cook for one minute. Add the vermouth, water, and tomatoes.

Remove the skin from the chicken. Place the chicken into the stew, and add the pancetta. Bring to a simmer (185 degrees F). Cover, and lower the heat to medium low. Cook for 30 minutes, turning over the chicken at the fifteen minute point. After the 30 minutes, add the olives and cook for five more minutes. Remove the chicken and place on a serving dish. Add the basil to the braising liquid. Ladle over the chicken and serve.

Serves 4

Ahh, Monsanto, how I detest thee...As if it isn't difficult enough to avoid HFCS I now have to avoid sugar. That's right folks, Monsanto has fracked with our domestic sugar production by genetically engineering a sugar beet seed that is "roundup ready". In human speak that means farmers can pour on the Round-up herbicide, also manufactured by Monsanto, in order to increase their yield. Do you think this might cause some problems? I do and so do others:

In addition to the risk of crop contamination, scientific studies have shown that applications of Roundup, a glyphosate-based herbicide, increase significantly when Roundup Ready crops are grown. Increased use of this herbicide is instrumental in the creation of Roundup-resistant “super weeds”.

“Contrary to the industry’s mantra that these plants reduce chemical use, studies have shown that herbicide use actually increases with the planting of Roundup Ready crops,” said Kevin Golden, of the Center for Food Safety. “Just as overuse of antibiotics eventually breeds drug resistant bacteria, overuse of Roundup eventually breeds Roundup-resistant weeds. When that happens, farmers are forced to rely on even more toxic herbicides to control those weeds.” The Center For Food Safety

These GE beet seeds will hit the dirt this spring and be in our groceries by the end of the year. If you've read What Geeks Eat... you know that I bake, I like the white stuff, I admit it...I love sugar. I usually buy organic sugar but sometimes it just isn't possible. I also assumed that sugar produced here in the US had fewer carbon miles than the organic, fair-trade sugar produced by a sugar co-op in Malawi...but now that I've fully considered it I think I've always been wrong. What do you think?

Being Friday, I figured it was best to put the serious discussions aside for a day or so, and get down to some real food talk.

Let's say you had a the perfect Hot Dog, cooked to perfection and placed on what you consider to be the perfect hot dog bun. Given the opportunity to put anything else on your dog, what would you choose?

For me the answer is quite easy, and quite non-traditional. Cole Slaw is, in my opinion, the best topping there is for a hot dog. It doesn't matter if it's a mayonnaise based cole slaw or a vinegar one. Both work equally well. I highly recommend it if you've never tried it.

Give your answer in the poll to the left, and feel free to add your voice to the comment section to this post.