This made me chuckle. Eons ago I bought a bottle of Heaven Hill Gin. First sips over ice, I thought I’d made a mistake and used Zippo Lighter Fluid in the glass, instead of HH.
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Not sure if this was answered. Spirits (clown) usually has some on the shelf.
I was actually at this Brewery Thanksgiving weekend and was talking with some of the workers. They just expanded their production facility and are looking at better distribution now.
Speaking to my beer geek friend who lives up there, this brewery has been living off their name for a few years now. The original brewmaster went somewhere else and according to him has not been keeping pace with the other new kids on the block.
Still a tasty beer though.
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I go to spirits all the time. I haven’t seen this beer in several years there, or anywhere. Aren’t they brothers that own it?
I have a Heaven Hill story which I will share soon. It may even rival @NotJrvedivici and his Pierre story.
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Just a general note, it is hard to beat Bottle King and Wegman’s in this area for pricing. Wine Academy and seemingly all other “neighborhood” liquors stores cannot compare. Even Buy Rite is ridiculous.
Johnnie Walker Red is $19.99 at Bottle King so I laugh when Buy Rite advertises in their circular their special low price of $25.99.
Once you start shopping around, Spirits too becomes overpriced. I only buy one thing: Ararat Brandy. They are the only place around here that sells it.
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I’ll lead with this one before I follow up with an epic tale of drunkenness involving the vile Heaven Hill (which I have never been able to drink straight since an incident in about 2011/12).
First story…
Christmas 2017 was the first without my dad. He would always get me a good gin and a good bourbon every year (among other things; we’re not a family of alcoholics). So my mom carried on the tradition. We’re sitting there opening presents and she hands me a bag with two bottles. I pull out the first one: jumbo bottle of Bombay Sapphire. We’re off to an excellent start. Before I could get to the other bottle, she stops me and says, “I don’t know much about whiskey, but the story behind this bottle is amazing. You’re going to love it.” I excitedly rip away the tissue paper and pull out, much to my shocked dismay, a bottle of Heaven Hill. Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I didn’t say anything. I believe my reaction was, “Oh…oh…ohhhh Heaven Hill! I haven’t had this in a LONG time.”
This is when she tells me that she was looking through the bourbons and thought she would get me a “good one” based on price. She says, “I picked up Heaven Hill, which I will tell you the price, was $69.99, but when they rang it up, it was only $8.99! I didn’t say anything. What a steal, right?” 
That’s when I had to break it to her, “There’s a reason why it rang up $8.99…” She was shocked, but I quickly added that I still enjoyed drinking it as a “mixing whiskey”. However, mixing in this case means with faucet water on its way down the drain. The sweet woman she is told me to pick out another bottle of my choosing the next day. I can’t remember what I chose, but it is long gone.
All in all, I kept the bottle. Mixed it with coke a few times and used the rest for cooking. As I said, it makes great Brussels Sprouts and works in pecan pie and a few other things. Merry Christmas to me!
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Second story.
It is now 2012. I am in college and am freshly 21. Even though I’ve had some drinks over the years and could hold my liquor even then, this night was a special case. I was sick earlier in the day and had not eaten anything. I’m feeling better at night and my friend comes over with a six pack of Moulson and a bottle of Heaven Hill. We’re out back drinking and drinking and drinking. I’m feeling fine until I stand up. From then on out it was like walking through a fun house attraction. It took a Herculean effort, but I made it to my bedroom. I was laying down, staring up at my spinning ceiling fan. It took a minute to realize that my fan wasn’t actually on.
I sat up, and tried my best to hold fast. No, I wasn’t going to throw up. I sat up, staring straight ahead for what seemed like hours. The little devil on my shoulder then gave me the okay to lay down. I did, and about ten seconds later, splattered Heaven Hill all over the place. On the rug. Down the side of my bed. Everywhere. Due to the fact I hadn’t eaten, it wasn’t the worst sight in the world. I felt amazing afterward and fell asleep with a smile. I woke up the next morning perky as ever. I thought, “Wow…what a crazy dream throwing up like that!” All I had to do was turn to my left and there it was. It wasn’t a dream.
I panicked. Yes, I was 21 but you know how it is. Had I admitted to this, then every time for the rest of eternity I would be snarkily reminded by my mother but probably not my father, “Remember what happens when you drink too much.” I was going to avoid that. I quickly devised a plan. We had just gotten a cat (Lawrence) and I was going to use him. Being 21 and male, it would have drawn questions if I was walking through the house randomly with cleaning products. So I meandered downstairs to the kitchen where mom was and said, “Mom, Lawrence threw up in my room last night.” She said, “Oh no, where?” I said, “Well, I was petting him on my bed and he started throwing up so I picked him up and put him on the floor, so the throw up is kind of everywhere.” I then added that I would clean it. Just then my dad called me for something in the basement. Down I go.
About 15 minutes later, I heard a scream and I go upstairs and LO AND BEHOLD THERE IS MY MOM ON HER HANDS AND KNEES CLEANING THE THROW UP IN MY ROOM. Since the cat was her idea, and it was the CAT that threw up, she took it upon herself to clean the mess. She had screamed when she saw the amount, “Oh my God! I hope he’s not sick!” she exclaimed. I said, “I don’t think its that bad.” “IT IS FOR A CAT!” she snapped.
Final word: the crime scene was scrubbed and to this very day, seven years later, my mom still doesn’t know who really threw up that night.
I won.
And I haven’t had Heaven Hill straight since.
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What’s a pinball machine?
I was at a Dave and Busters and asked the waitress if they had pinball and she had no clue what it was and I got the same response from a youngster at work.
I cut my teeth on it as a mere tyke at the Dairy Mart my aunt ran in Gonzalez Texas back in the 60s. I think it cost a nickel.
I stepped up my game and received a minor in college at the university center in between classes, I’ll be honest sometimes when I should have been in class.
Bourbon? We had a place that had all you could drink bourbon and cokes for one hour. This is criminal today.
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God as my witness if /when you finally show up to a Ho’down I’m bringing a bottle of Satan’s nectar and we are doing a shot.
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I think I can handle that. You’re on!
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OK Greg, hold my beer…
Circa 1982, Ronald Reagan was President the communist block was crumbling, Billy Joel was young, skinny, had hair and was married to Christie Friggin Brinkley…yes it was a good time to be an American! I was 12 years old and my parents decided I was of an age where they could leave me home alone for a night. They were going out for the night, not all night just dinner they would be home after, but they left me home alone.
I anxiously awaited the ticking timer on the toaster oven which contained my Hungry Man Turkey dinner. Soon it would “BING,” indicating it was finished “cooking”. Oh the anticipation of burning my tongue on my cherry pie desert was almost more than I could handle, the last thing I needed to prepare for my meal was a beverage…what would it be? My old stand by Dr. Pepper, or perhaps a new fangled beverage like Capri Sun, in it’s foil bag/bottle/straw combination just like the astronauts drank in space! Or…since I’m home alone tonight it’s kind of a rite of passage for a young man…scratch that please…it’s a rite of passage for a MAN!!! If I can stay home alone dammit I’m a man and I’ll have a mans drink just like my good ole Dad, a VO on the rocks with a splash of water.
{{BING}} I grab an oven mit and pull out my turkey dinner, grab my fork and dip right into the cherry desert, burn my tongue and extinguish the burn with a big smooth sip of VO. Well after my meal and I don’t know how many VO’s, I’m pretty drunk and I decide it’s time for this “man” to call it a night. Feeling rather woozy I settle in and quickly fall asleep. At some pointI roll over in my bed and am met with a wet mushiness to my face, I get up and turn on the lights to find I threw up in my bed in my sleep. I quickly jump up to assess the situation and I go out of my room to find most of the house still very dark, I go to my parents room and it’s empty, holy crap they aren’t home I can “fix this”. I jump up and head to my parents bathroom (they had a stall up shower) and I turn the water on. Realizing time is at a premium right now I come up with the brilliant idea of stripping my bed and taking it in the shower with me, kill two birds with one stone, clean me and my bedding. God I’m a young genius!!!
Into the shower I go with my bedding and a couple pillows and we get all cleaned up. Now just get dressed throw the stuff in the dryer for a few and we are home free. As I start to drag the stuff out of the bathroom I see head lights hitting the way through the blinds, I look out the blinds and their car is in the driveway…{{panic}} change of plans, bedding back in the shower I will get it out later, I need to get dressed and look casual somewhere.
I hear the garage door going up as I run into their bed room and sit down next to where my clothes were laid out. I’m sitting on the foot of their bed, facing their bureau and mirror, I was a hot 12 year old mess. I hear the garage door going down as I grab my underwear and start to put it on…I swear to God from down the hall I could hear their key going into the door, I’m tugging my underwear on, I never experienced drunk dressing before and had no idea it could be so laborious. The key is in and the door is unlocking. I barely have one leg in when I put my other leg in and start pulling my underwear on I hear the clicking of my mothers heals coming down the hallway towards her bedroom door, with my heart racing I give my underwear one last pull upwards as she opens her bedroom door I stand to greet my mom, she takes one look at me and screams…
I look straight ahead into the mirror and realize I had grabbed my tee-shirt and not my underwear and I had put my legs into the sleeves and was only able to pull it up to slightly over my knees as the rest of the shirt just folded down to that point, I stood there fully exposing myself to my mother.
After her brief hysteria I explained I think my TV dinner was “bad” and as any loving mother she set me up on the couch for the night as I explained my attempt to clean up my own mess from my food poisoning. As I laid on the couch bundled up with a damp rag on my head, my father came in to check on me and as he left I could hear him say: “Food poisoning my ass”…
It took me 20 years to ever take a sip of whiskey, scotch, rye or any of the “brown spirits”. (yes there is another story about my first time trying it again)
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I didn’t get that deep into the conversation. 
At the clown it is usually on the shelf on the far right wall, kind of around the area where the Lagunitas and Ballast Point is stacked on the floor
Boy, does that bring back memories. But thankful to say no memories like the rest of your story!!
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That was the best part and you could NEVER wait to be finished to take your first bite.
Not that this has anything to do with bourbon, but I will be in Lancaster for the rest of the week and stocking up on Jacquin’s. Anyone ever heard of it? It is made in PA and other than a few of their products (such as Rock & Rye), you really cannot get it anywhere except for PA. They produce almost everything: whiskey, gin, vodka, flavored liqueurs, you name it.
The stuff is cheap. The label has like a foil shine to it. I’m a sucker for a nice label. I bought a bottle of gin and vodka a few years ago to review. I was expecting it to be like turpentine but I was shocked. The stuff is actually pretty good for the price (sub-$10 per bottle). They have a 100 proof “Vodka Royale” that will turn your vodka and tonic into a lethal cocktail.
I don’t know why, but its the only vodka I really enjoy. Cheap garbage it may be, but not much difference from some of the high end ones I’ve had. I’ll be stocking up on this trip.
Hell of a story. I obviously do not know your dad and what he looked like, but I can sure hear the “Food poisoning my ass” comment coming from my dad.
