I’m a scotch guy. What I drink depends on the circumstances. If I’m drinking it with food, especially steak, I like Dalwhinnie 15. If I am celebrating with friends or family, I like Lagavulin 16 or Shieldaig 25. If I’m drinking alone, because life sucks and I want to forget my troubles, I drink Dalmore 18. But to be honest, I don’t drink scotch that often. I can drink a glass or two of bourbon or rye and call it a night. With scotch, generally, I pop the cork, then it’s suddenly 2 PM the next day, I feel like I was hit by a truck, and 80% of the $100-300 bottle is gone. I don’t know why this is. I love bourbon and rye (even Canadian whiskey, but don’t tell anyone). But scotch is my kryptonite. In completely unrelated news, I got my ancestry DNA and I’m 60% Scottish (explains my giant head and bent torward prose I guess). But I started my love affair of scotch long before I found out I was Scottish. Correlation does not imply causation.