Then, the other night, this happened:
Palate: Like malted barley was packed away in wood for ten years. No cotton candy or braised meats at all.
Finish: More whiskey -- and then, out of nowhere, chili pepper. (And when I say "finish," I mean "finish the bottle," because I have no recollection of that chili in any previous glass, even the one I had about two weeks earlier.)