Sometimes interviews unexpectedly yield the best off-topic chats, and that happened recently with Sylvia Holden, private barrel specialist at Heaven Hill Distilleries. The topic was single barrels, but the discussion veered onto people’s anger over not being able to get their favorite bourbons anymore. She said:
After 30 seconds of gut busting laughter, she continued with the analogy:
“And when it’s over, you can be bitter about all that heartbreak, but what’s that going to get you? When that bottle becomes unattainable, you gotta say to yourself, ‘I’m exhausted. I’m not chasing after that one anymore.’
What Will Whisky Look Like in 2027? Voices from Whisky Live Paris
READ THE STORY“So, just stop going crazy and acting out because that broke your heart. Go find something else to enjoy—and something you can afford.”
Holden’s bourbon heart was broken over the virtual disappearance of the once-affordable and deliciously spicy Weller Antique 107 .
“I was so upset when the price got crazy and I couldn’t find it anymore,” she said. “But I knew there were other awesome bourbons out there and I found some.”
Trending Content
There’s a whole lot of life advice in her words, don’t you think? It’s a rare person who isn’t stricken with deep passion for something that tastes amazing or drives like it’s on rails or looks like a glimpse of heaven when framed and hung over the sofa or cuts fish cleaner than the sword of Damocles.
Sadly, that affection for (fill in the blank) is rarely permanent—or at least worth being permanent unless tied to a wonderful human. The more I drink spirits, the more I know there is no holy grail. But I’ve learned that the quest for something different is a lot of fun. The hunt, frankly, is sometimes better than the capture.
Unfortunately, we’re built to crave new things, yet we’re wise to resist some of those urges. King Solomon wrote correctly in the Book of Ecclesiastes that most desires and pursuits are “a meaningless chasing after the wind.” Satisfaction with stuff comes for a time—a season or three if one is lucky—before the fancy fades and we’re off and saddling another hobby horse.
I’m right there with them: excited when I find a novelty, happy to share it, but bummed out when its surging popularity dries up its availability and increases its price. When it officially fades from attainability, I can hear Roger Daltry’s words in “Magic Bus,” in my head … I want it, I want it, I want it.
When you hit that point, it’s time to go all Sylvia Holden and say, “I’m not chasing after that one anymore.” It’s also time to quit griping about the bottle braggarts “getting all the good stuff and keeping it” because sometimes that’s just how it works. (Believe me, I’m preaching to myself here as I fight the urge to hope that they get cirrhosis.)
Thirty-five years ago, a girl I dated for two years kicked me to the curb, and I was heartbroken and angry about the fact that I had zero control over the situation. There was no letting go because I was 86’ed and she was gone.
When I saw her 18 years later, I was far wiser and told her, “The best thing you ever did for us was dump me,” and I meant it. I didn’t deserve her poise and maturity and she didn’t deserve my immature antics. But like most everyone who’s ever been there, suffered that, I went on, dated others who were available and who were in my league. Five years after that heartbreak, I met the one who’d become my wife, and after 27 years of happy imperfection, she’s still the one. Not surprisingly, I can’t say the same for bourbon or cars or art or pricey kitchen knives.
