whiskey

On whiskey in winter: Some like it hot

By AMBROSE CLANCY // It was raining horizontally, with sleet, driven by a December gale. We could hear the sea pounding the concrete strand one street away as we ducked down an alley with the sharp smell of turf fires on the wind. No one was around, except the two village dogs crouched in a doorway, just their noses sticking out to the wind. Soaked, shivering, we made it into the safe harbor of the…