Back in my coal mining days in southern Appalachia, there was a saying folks had: “He’s drinkin’ his own booze” and it was not a compliment. In those days, good stuff could generally be defined as spirits that wouldn’t make you go blind and the way to tell was by putting a dibby dab in a small jar and, if it burned with a blue flame, it was probably OK.But there were some local distillers of shine who thought their stuff was so good, they drank it themselves….
