FINALLY, I have something worth bringing to the elders. A Hungarian specialty–5 puttunyos. 60 years in the making.

Bought via auction, sat in my cellar waiting for a special occasion while I was secretly convinced it was just a squatty bottle of the darkest vinegar money could buy.

Yet, in a surprising turn of events, it was not.

I’m no stranger to Tokajis, Sauternes, and Ports with some good age, but this one stood out from the rest. Clearly acidic af when it was young, but now every primary note has been aggressively thrown from the building, leaving only burnt caramel, licorice, and this delicious tree-sap-like resin note that makes me feel like I’m huffing gasoline, just without that sexy danger element. God, I wish this came with a little brain damage kicker. Would put it square in my Suckling 100.

It’s giving flashes of what I always imagined my grandfather was drinking before he passed out next to our San Bernardino above-ground pool: a more sophisticated elixer than a 3rd gen desert rat like myself had any right to even dream of. But he wasn’t drinking this. He was drinking Boonesfarm. Not me though — I’m drinking great gramma Bozsi’s sugar whiskey. Eat your heart out, pops.

5/5 Puttunontheritz