Dana McMahan

Special to Courier Journal

Writer's note: I'm not naming names because everyone's palate is different. Some bourbons getting rave reviews are meh to me, and I like stuff that bourbon aficionados may turn their noses up at. It wasn't worth almost $200 to me, but I'm sure it will be to someone and I don't want to give them buyer's remorse, too!

It's easy to poke fun at the extremes people go to — and pay — when it comes to bourbon.

We've collectively swapped strolling to our liquor store for a bottle of whatever suits our fancy (for the price of an entree at a decent restaurant) to lining up, camping out, buying lottery tickets, and overpaying on the secondary market for the latest hot thing — and the old things that are now so hard to find they're also hot.

What makes people do it, I've wondered. Is it the thrill of the hunt? Are they all resellers, driving up demand so they can make a dime? Do they just want trophies for their bar or to post on social media? Maybe, just maybe, they really love this one particular bourbon and are willing to pay whatever price it takes to get it.

I admit to waiting in line for bourbon myself. When the Pearl of Germantown, 1151 Goss Ave., sells its Silver Dollar private barrel picks, I know it's good stuff because anything Larry Rice and Susie Hoyt have a hand in is just gold. They also sell them for prices that aren't off the wall, so, at one of their pop-up sales, I stocked my bar with a wonderful selection for a not-exorbitant price — basically what some midrange bourbons would have cost at a liquor store.

You may like:The pursuit of Pappy Van Winkle: Is the crave-worthy bourbon worth it?

But I hadn't yet crossed the line into triple-digit bourbons. (And yes, I know people pay way more than that for the so-called unicorn bottles, but I'm a writer: My comfort point for a bottle of anything is around $25, and there's plenty of good stuff at that price.)

Then that changed. A few months ago at a tasting event, I tried the most delicious whiskey I had ever tasted. I was smitten.

Naturally, it was my luck that it had a super limited release and was already snapped up at local stores.

But they had another release planned, so I haunted my local shop waiting to see if they'd get any. They didn't, so I set about calling shop after shop around town to be told they'd immediately sold out. Then I struck gold. A chain shop on Bardstown Road had it. We dropped everything and rushed over. Sure enough, there it was. A beautiful, deep amber sparked with gold as I turned the bottle. I was afraid to ask but had to. How much? $174.99. Plus tax.

Gulp.

But it was our wedding anniversary weekend. And we'd stumbled into an unexpected gig recently that temporarily boosted our discretionary spending ability. It was pretty easy to talk ourselves into it — after all, that first bottle (which, mind you, I'd had pours of only twice) had been pure magic. So we forked it over.

Then I looked at the back of the bottle. I knew this stuff was sourced and I have no problem with that. But this time, it was sourced from an altogether different state than the other bottle. Hmm. Well, that's OK, I thought. It's all about the creators' palate and their blending ability.

Check out:Up your bourbon IQ with these 13 facts you've never heard

No worries that it's not the same distillate, it'll still be amazing. Nobody likes to let cognitive dissonance creep in, so I purposely didn't Google any reviews. I wanted to form my own opinion.

We couldn't wait for the big tasting. My husband and I had a small amount of the other bottle that an amazingly generous friend had given us, so we could compare them side by side. We had friends over, fellow bourbon enthusiasts, who brought some things to try that were kissing cousins to this liquid.

I poured it. Admired the topaz stuff in the glass. Nosed it. Hmm. No rush of delirious happiness. And a sip. It was … fine.

There was nothing wrong with it. It just wasn't that other bottle. Which I tried next. And you know how sometimes you love a place or a dish and you build it up in your mind so much that the next time you experience it, it can't possibly live up to those standards? Yeah, that didn't happen with this whiskey. There was just something so special, some alchemy in this bottle that took me to old leatherbound books, tobacco barns of my childhood and stories spun under a summer sky.

See also:Kentucky distillery’s first bourbon in 102 years sells out in less than a day

I've never been good at science, and despite an abundance of education on all things whiskey, I can't tell you what makes all those aromas and tastes. I just know the emotional reaction I have to bourbon, and this one launched an avalanche. The new one? The one I'd just paid a painful sum for? The only emotion I felt was buyer's remorse.

I'm chalking it up to a learning experience. If I'm ever moved to buy a bottle based on a brand's other products, full stop I will not. Not until I've had a chance to taste it. If that means it gets away, so be it. It took me almost a year to track down my earlier all-consuming favorite, but I eventually did. Somehow I'll get my hands on a bottle of the elixir I loved, and in the meantime, well, this regrettable purchase will go in my next Finish the Bottle Night party lineup.

Tell Dana! Send your restaurant “Dish” to Dana McMahan at thecjdish@gmail.com and follow @danamac on Twitter.