This week we pour a genuinely excellent high-rye whiskey wrapped in a whole lot of Vermont mythology: WhistlePig 10-Year. We taste it honestly — bright orange and caramel, big peppery rye spice, that signature dill-and-mint herbaceousness, bold and well-made at a hundred proof. Then we profile the man who needs it to mean something: the 38-year-old financial analyst who bought a gravel bike he rides on pavement, takes an acoustic guitar camping to play four chords at the fire, and wanted a whiskey that feels "artisanal" but costs enough to confirm he's upper-middle class. A loving roast of the man whose gear is several seasons ahead of his personality — and a gentle bet that he'll grow into it. Tasting notes and character flaws, as always.