Inspired by our own dear puddy, who did us all the great humanitarian service of the recent post on the wonders of vodka, and no less inspired by “Bourbon night in the Tree”, as I recall my fond memories of Friday night, I have endeavered to expand upon this theme, excellent as it is, and bring you the lore, legend, and all around cure for what ails you of Jack Daniel’s Tennessee Whiskey. As of 2007, renowned world experts who absolutely must be right, Jack was declared the world’s best selling whiskey, a record due in some significant way to my family. It is produced in Lynchburg, Tennessee, in a dry county (why DO they have those?) where you can tour the distillery, but not purchase their product. Muslims all over the world may bow toward Mecca in prayer, but here in the south, we point our nose toward Lynchburg. Here are some assiduously researched facts, uses, and lore of the wonders of Jack Daniel’s.
Jack, as we lovingly refer to it, is a love potion. Love Potion Number 7, to be exact. Many the loving couple owe their stellar affair of the heart to the wonders of a shared taste of sippin’ whiskey. It has been estimated that 68.773 percent of all weddings south of the Mason-Dixon originated with the matchmaking expertise contained in the brew concocted first by Jasper Newton “Jack” Daniel. That shamefully low statistic is sadly colored by the proliferation of tee totalers here in the south, sadly misguided individuals who have never partaken of the nectar that is sour mash. Hence they go on to enact further evils, see Blue Laws and dry counties. At any rate, there are fifth and sixth generation families who credit their lineage and success to the man who died a bachelor in 1911.
Following logically in that vein, Jack is a proven and powerfully potent fertility drug. Some 79.84 percent of all births of the eldest child in southern families are due to the prodigous and dedicated consumption of this miracle drug. Alas, due to the rigors of parenthood, and the resulting strain on the family budget, successive members of the family cannot as accurately trace their conception to this blessed amber liquid. However, their first child inevitably harkens back to this noble folk cure, the secret passed from father to son under the shade of a tall oak tree out behind the old country church after Sunday services end on a scorching hot Sunday afternoon and the womenfolk lay out the food on the old plank picnic tables, used by generations of faithful southerners with a little whiskey in their blood- from the breeding and the sippin’. Meanwhile as they work, the Mamas warn their daughters of the dangers of a slow talkin’, good lookin’ man bearing a square bottle with a black label.
Jack Daniel’s is the perfect cure for a headache. Especially if the headache came from an improper application of the cure the night before. It is equally effective as a tonic for malaria, poison ivy, and scabies. Current research may result in groundshaking, ahem, I mean groundbreaking opportunities for those afflicted with senility, acne, halitosis, and laryngitis, as well as rickets, goiters, and bowed legs.
Renown cooks have long known the value of adding a little nip of Jack. And you can put it in your recipes too! Ba-da-boom. I know, but I couldn’t resist. Still, everyone knows Jack is a great ingredient in barbeque, but there are truly other culinary wonders at your fingertips when Jack enters the kitchen. How about some birthday cake on that special occassion? I myself am working on a super top secret biscuit recipe featuring the special elixer. I have been unable to actually get the Jack in the bowl instead of the glass as of yet, but I plan to persevere.
Jack Daniel’s has ended many a blood feud here in the hills of Appalachia. Did you hear about the Hornsnitters and the McGillicuddies? Awful, tragic tale, little known to the outside world. Henrietta Hornsnitter, belle of three and a half counties (only one half of that county was dry) fell in love with Mickey McGillicuddy one Saturday night back in the holler. It was a blue moon night, that big ole moon hangin’ low in the sky, and poor Henrietta forgot all her churchin’, forgot she had a solo in the choir tomorrow, forgot her distant cousin Hank Hornsnitter, her fiance of not quite four weeks (it was that first full moon, dammit!) and lost her heart, and reputedly her bloomers too. Hank, Henrietta’s six brothers, and her mama too (her papa was in jail due to trying to set up a sour mash stand in a dry county) lit out for the McGillicuddy homestead with pure menace in their hearts. Granny McG met the angry mob down to the crick with a crock of Jack, and that was that. Except for Hank, pour soul, he was never right again. Rumor has it that his descendents, vexed with his tainted love, went on to enact Blue Laws.
Due to time constraints, we must end our fine tale here. Feel free to conduct your own research on the benefits of Jack Daniel’s, and by all means, report back to us. Do be sure to use the scienfific method though. Each experiment must be repeated.