Let's pick up where we left off, whisky-wise. Scotch is Scotch, rye is Canadian, bourbon is American–although little of it these days comes from Bourbon County in Kentucky–and Irish is spelled with an "e". Now on to nomenclature and a couple of cocktails.

Scotch comes with fanciful names. There are crags and queens and grouses, a whole swatch of colours and ages, and all those famous whisky folks: Johnnie Walker, Whyte and Mackay, the Macallans and the McClellands, Bruichladdich and Auchentoshan.

Irish is mostly names too–Bushmills, available in six configurations in our town, some of them with very limited availability. The "Old" is the regular, a best buy for $29.95; the Black Bush is rounder and mellower–and costlier; then there are a couple of malts, a 10- and a 16-year-old. Plus, you have two single-cask variations that start at around $100: Bourbon Barrel (talk about taking coals to Co. Cork) and Sherry Hogshead. Now there's a nice autumn tasting party, instant.

Also well worth exploring are Jameson and Midleton Rare (just one "d", and lots of cash), John Power and Tullamore Dew, and once in a while something fanciful like Red Breast–the 12-year-old has been in our stores for a couple of years now, and represents one of the best-kept secrets on the whiskey shelf.

American/bourbon is full of fancy: Rebel Yell and Buffalo Trace, Wild Turkey and Knob Creek. Pappy Van Winkle isn't seen hereabouts, but is worth finding; Elijah Craig's 18-year-old Single Barrel is one of the best bourbons in the world, and also requires a quest. I know a place on Park Avenue”¦

Maker's Mark is reliable and familiar; Woodford Reserve comes in one of the most elegant bottles. (Liquor packaging is becoming a Big Thing. Just look at the premium vodkas on the shelves; it's like visiting Tiffany's.)

Canadians are, no big surprise, somewhat sober about their nomenclature: Canadian Club, one of the most famous whiskies in the world; Alberta Springs and Crown Royal; plus Gibson's and Corby's and Schenley's and Wiser's, Gilbey's and Walker's.

But the focus today is more on fun than tradition. That's why the cocktail has come back onto the whisky scene. Here's how it used to be: whisky, with water. Full stop. Ice? Never heard of it, not at home in Scotland, anyway. For some reason, the idea of having solid water in your drink made the old men's blood boil. "Water should only be liquid," someone said to me once, on the docks at Leith. We were eating whisky'd pan-fried grouse at the time. He was paying. I wasn't arguing.

Scotch and soda eventually came along. Flavoured soft drinks mixed with whisky? Not on my watch, was the approach. Then, just yesterday, a wonderful colleague admitted to me he'd been drinking Scotch and bitter lemon of late. Well, he was in Egypt at the time, so I guess he can be forgiven.

But there were, and still are, some classics: Manhattan, whisky sour, rye and ginger (the Prairies wouldn't have been settled without it), Rob Roy, old-fashioned, Rusty Nail with Drambuie, Whisky Mac with ginger wine. With bourbon, mint julep or Wild Cow (just a lot of milk, a little bourbon, and a spoonful of sugar). I love leafing through old bartending guides. Hands up, all those who know these four: Blackberry Fix, Canadian Daisy, the Quebec, and the Habitant Cocktail. Try one on your favourite barkeep, and see if there's any depth to her mixologic skills. Here they are.

The Blackberry Fix One-and-a-half measures of Canadian whisky, shaken with ice, and half a measure of blackberry liqueur, plus two teaspoons of fresh lemon juice and some sugar. Strain over tightly packed ice, and garnish with a fresh blackberry and a lemon slice. That's one.

The Canadian Daisy Take a couple of measures of Canadian whisky and add two teaspoons of lemon juice, one teaspoon of raspberry syrup, and shake it all with ice. Then strain into a big glass, add more ice, fill up with club soda, decorate with fresh raspberries, and float a teaspoon of brandy on top.

The Quebec I'll bet few of your Montreal friends will know how this goes: one-and-a-half measures of Canadian whisky, shaken with ice, plus two teaspoons of dry vermouth, one teaspoon of Amer Picon (an Italian amaro, there's one listed in B.C. liquor stores called Montenegro), and one teaspoon of maraschino liqueur.

The Habitant Cocktail Can't get more Canadian than this one: one-and-a-half measures of Canadian whisky, one measure of lemon juice, one teaspoon of maple syrup. Shake with ice, strain, and add more ice; garnish with a cherry and a slice of orange.

But the coolest of all the old-time Canucktails is The Trois-Rivií¨res: two shots of your favourite Canadian whisky, shaken with ice, along with two teaspoons of Dubonnet, one teaspoon of Cointreau, and a twist of lemon.

And to the fellow who was sipping Scotch and bitter lemon, I suggest the cocktail with the macho label, Blood and Sand. Not all that bloody or gritty when you consider combining equal measures of Scotch, cherry brandy, sweet vermouth, and orange juice, shaken with plenty of ice. That's so weird it could have been invented on Granville Street last weekend.

And here's its antidote: the good old-fashioned boilermaker. It's not so much a drink as a procedure: drink two shots of whisky straight up, preferably straight back, and wash them down with a mug of beer. The whisky and the beer can be combined in a highball glass; it can be Scotch, bourbon, Canadian, or Irish–your call. And for a Dog's Nose, you just substitute gin for the whisky and mix it with the beer.

On that note, good night and good luck.

Link: Jurgen Gothe's whisky primer, part one