The "Liquid Gold" Rush: Why Your Trendy Whiskey is Emptying My Wallet
Back in my day—and by "my day," I mean about fifteen years ago before the internet decided to colonize every niche hobby—you could actually walk into a liquor store and buy a bottle of Japanese whiskey without needing a second mortgage or a blood sacrifice.
Then the announcement hit. Yamazaki 12 Years was named "Whiskey of the Year," and the world went mad. Prices went north faster than a homeowner’s property taxes—and with just as much unnecessary attitude. Suddenly, every shelf in the country was empty. I had to resort to international diplomacy just to get a taste; I reached out to my cousin in Hong Kong, and he eventually managed to bring a bottle over like he was transporting a state secret. It shouldn't be that hard to get a drink, but here we are.
My Suntory Obsession (and the LCBO Nightmare)
If you’re going to be a curmudgeon about spirits, you might as well pick a side. My picks are Suntory and Glenfiddich—though I’ll save my Glenfiddich manifesto for another day; I don’t have the blood pressure to get into Speyside right now.
But let’s talk about the local struggle here in Ontario. For the longest time—especially during those miserable COVID years—you couldn't even find a decent Japanese bottle at the LCBO. It didn't just go "out of stock"; it vanished from the face of the earth. And now that it’s finally trickling back? The markup is absolutely ridiculous. It’s price-gouging masquerading as "prestige," and frankly, it’s insulting.
The Art of the Hustle: Quotas and Duty Free
If you want to drink like a civilized human without paying the "LCBO Trend Tax," you have to be strategic. When we travel, I let my wife roam the luxury brand stores to look at handbags that cost more than a mid-sized sedan, while I make a beeline for the terminal liquor store. The duty-free prices are actually reasonable—or at least "reasonable" compared to the highway robbery happening at home.
When I'm not traveling myself? I become a professional nuisance. I spend half my time begging family and friends traveling through Asian transit hubs like Hong Kong or Narita to use their precious 1.14-litre quota on me. It’s a big ask—asking someone to lug a glass bottle halfway across the world just so I can save sixty bucks—but that’s what family is for, right?
The Evening Wind-Down: Two Cubes and No Nonsense
On those nights when the world has been particularly loud, I don’t need a sermon in a glass. I just want something easy. That’s where Hibiki comes in.
- The Pour: A healthy dose of Hibiki.
- The Method: Exactly two ice cubes.
- The Result: It’s floral, it’s bright, and it doesn’t require a 20-minute lecture on cask finishing. It’s "easy drinking," which is code for "I’ve had a long day and I don’t want to hear about the 'cloud' or the 'algorithm.'"
Summer Night Survival: The Highball Gospel
When the humidity in Ontario starts to feel like a wet wool blanket, you don't want a heavy pour. A highball is built for those hot summer nights when you're sitting on the patio trying to ignore the chaotic symphony of the suburbs.
You know the vibe: you're trying to relax, but the neighbor has decided 8:00 PM is the optimal time for a leaf blower concerto, someone’s gas-powered mower is screaming three doors down, and the mosquitoes are treating your ankles like an all-you-can-eat buffet. You need something tall and cold just to maintain your sanity.
- Suntory Toki: It’s the "budget" option. It’s fine. It’s the Toyota Corolla of whiskey—it’ll get you where you’re going, and it won't complain.
- Suntory Chita: Now we’re talking. If you want a highball that is simply delicious, Chita is the grain whiskey of the gods. It’s smooth, slightly sweet, and makes a highball so refreshing it’ll almost make you forget the neighbor's overgrown lawn and their questionable taste in outdoor lighting.
The Splurge: For When the Clouds Actually Behave
Every once in a while, the world stops being an annoyance for five minutes. Those are the days I reach for the Yamazaki 12.
I don't drown this one. I put in a single ice sphere—because a sphere melts slower, and physics doesn't care if you think it's "pretentious." I put on some smooth jazz (the kind that sounds like a rainy night in Shinjuku), sit in the chair that actually supports my lower back, and remember what it was like before everyone and their mother decided they were a whiskey critic.
It’s expensive, it’s rare, and thanks to the hype, it’s a pain in the neck to find. But for one glass? It’s almost worth the shouting.
Full Disclosure: I wasn’t sponsored to write this. Nobody paid me to complain about prices or praise Hibiki. That said, if anyone from the Suntory distilleries happens to be reading and wants to send over a crate or a sponsorship deal, I wouldn't be against it. My inbox is open.
Enjoyed this rant? If you like this post, consider reading my last one: The "Global Equity" Zen: Why I Traded Ticker Anxiety for a Single, Boring ETF.
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