Jameson Irish Whiskey is celebrating the NFL coming to Dublin

If you’ve walked into a Mexican bar or restaurant, chances are you’ve noticed the big blue bottle of tequila. Corralejo is famous for its tall, slim bottles that come in 750 milliliters and 1.75 liters. The 750-milliliter bottle is the standard size you’ve probably become familiar with. Corralejo also has clear bottles for its Blanco, red bottles for its Añejo, and a tall, round, bright blue bottle for its Triple Distilled Tequilas, among other shapes and types.

It’s been this way for decades and decades. But for the first time, Corralejo is meeting the demand for smaller, easily digestible, and giftable bottles. Arriving ahead of Hispanic Heritage Month and Mexican Independence Day in September, Corralejo is introducing the 375ml Reposado bottle, which aims to create “a timely entry point into Tequila Corralejo’s more than 250 years of tequila-making heritage, while offering a right-sized option for intimate gatherings, gifting, and cocktail occasions.”

Stetson. You know the name. You proudly wear the hats. Now get to know its bourbon. America’s most iconic Western brand is launching Stetson Bourbon, touted as a “super-premium, high-rye proprietary blend distilled and bottled in Bardstown, Kentucky.” The brand, created in 1865 by John B. Stetson, who invented and perfected the cowboy hat, is bringing the same quality and craftsmanship to its bourbon, blended by Kentucky Master Blender Dan Callaway.

The launch has been a long time coming, resulting in a bottle and spirit worthy of the Stetson name. After a three-year journey of sourcing and tasting, Stetson found its ideal blender and two of the most respected bourbon producers in Kentucky, Green River Distilling Co. and Bardstown Bourbon Company.

An old high school buddy recently hosted a boys’ weekend at his farm in Virginia. We spent two glorious days fishing, cooling off in swimming holes, and sipping whiskey at sunset. Before I headed back to New York, he sent me off with a box full of frozen venison. He had harvested the deer the previous fall, and a local game processor had turned it into sausages, backstrap, and steaks.

Back in Brooklyn, I seared the lean, ruby-red cutlets in French butter, spooned over a dollop of cherry jam, and paired them with a bottle of Daou Soul of a Lion. My girlfriend agreed: it was one of the finest—and healthiest—dinners I’ve ever cooked.