Yesterday, I stopped by Shores Liquor and picked up a bottle of O.K.I. Bottled-in-Bond bourbon for $20. That’s not a typo. Twenty bucks for a 100-proof bottled-in-bond bourbon that, after my initial tasting, earned a respectable 82.41 on my scoring system. And one that often sells for around $50. That’s comfortably in the upper half of the whiskeys on my shelf, although it’s nowhere near qualifying for my March Madness bracket.

And I’m planning to go back for more.

That’s because Shores occasionally does something that makes me love shopping there. They’ll pick up cases of a perfectly good bourbon, presumably as part of some deal with a distributor, and put it on the shelf at a price that’s almost impossible to resist. I suspect they know exactly what they’re doing. Get me through the door for a $20 bottle, and there’s a pretty good chance I’ll leave with something else that isn’t nearly as much of a bargain.

It’s a brilliant strategy, particularly when the customer recognizes what’s happening and falls for it anyway.

But that purchase got me thinking about the bottles that have earned permanent or semipermanent residence on my whiskey shelves. They’re not necessarily the highest-scoring bourbons I own. In fact, some of my favorites are bottles I rarely reach for, not because I don’t love them, but because I love them too much to see them disappear.

Take The Saint from St. Augustine Distillery. It’s a wonderful whiskey, and I was delighted to add it to my collection for my 60th birthday. But at $200 a bottle, it’s not something I’m going to pour casually on a Tuesday evening while watching television. When that bottle runs out, it’s probably going to become a decanter. The same goes for my Jack Daniel’s 12-Year and several other whiskeys that are either too expensive, too difficult to find, or both.

I enjoy those bottles tremendously, but every pour comes with the realization that there’s a little less left to enjoy the next time. It’s not exactly buyer’s remorse. It’s more like drinker’s reluctance. I want to enjoy them, but I don’t want them to be gone.

That’s where the dependable bottles come in.

There are whiskeys I want to have around all the time, not because they’re rare or prestigious, but because they’re very good, reasonably priced and perfectly suited to my palate. They deliver the flavors I enjoy without requiring me to consult my bank balance or contemplate whether the occasion is sufficiently important to justify removing another two ounces from the bottle.

And when I find one of those whiskeys at an especially good price, I tend to stock up.

I’ve done that with Evan Williams America 250 Single Barrel and Old Grand-Dad 114 Single Barrel. Both offered the kind of combination that makes my Cheapskate instincts kick into high gear: good whiskey at a price that makes buying more than one bottle seem like a perfectly reasonable financial decision. I also knew that once those bottles disappeared from store shelves, finding replacements might be difficult or impossible. So I bought extras while I had the chance.

The O.K.I. Bottled-in-Bond is the latest addition to that group. At 82.41, it’s not going to dethrone the better whiskeys in my collection. But at $20, it doesn’t have to. It simply needs to deliver a consistently enjoyable experience at a price that makes keeping a backup bottle—or three—a sensible proposition.

Of course, there are other bottles that have earned their space without needing an extraordinary clearance price.

Cooper’s Craft 100-Proof Barrel Reserve is a must-have in my collection. It’s one of those bourbons I simply don’t want to be without. It hits the flavor profile I enjoy, delivers a satisfying pour and generally doesn’t require a major financial commitment to replace. I don’t need a special occasion to open it, and I don’t have to wonder whether I should be saving it for something important.

Old Forester 100-Proof Bourbon and Old Forester 100-Proof Rye belong in that conversation, too. Both are dependable, affordable whiskeys that deliver more enjoyment than their price tags might suggest. Kentucky Credential Double-Oaked has impressed me enough to earn a regular place in the rotation, and Barrel Key 8-Year is another example of a bottle that manages to combine quality with value.

These aren’t necessarily interchangeable whiskeys. They have different flavor profiles and different strengths. But they share something important: I genuinely enjoy drinking them, and I can justify keeping them around.

That’s really the key. I’m not interested in buying cheap whiskey simply because it’s cheap. There are plenty of inexpensive bottles that don’t deserve space on my shelf, regardless of what the price tag says. If I don’t enjoy drinking something, it doesn’t suddenly become enjoyable because I saved $15 buying it.

My palate tends toward dessert-like flavors. Give me chocolate, caramel, vanilla, cherries, a little nutmeg and some pleasant oak, and you’ve got my attention. Give me those things in a whiskey with a satisfying mouthfeel and some complexity, and I’m probably going to like it. Offer me that same whiskey at a bargain price, and now we’re talking about something that might earn a permanent address in my collection.

But that doesn’t mean every bottle has to score in the upper 80s to deserve my attention. Sometimes an 82-point bourbon is exactly what I’m looking for. Maybe I’ve had a long day at school, and I want to sit down, relax and enjoy a glass of something familiar. Maybe I’m watching football or working on a blog post. Maybe I’m simply in the mood for a good bourbon without turning the evening into a formal tasting session.

On those occasions, I might reach for the $20 bottle instead of something that scored five points higher and cost four times as much. And I’d enjoy every sip.

There’s also something comforting about knowing that when I finish the bottle, another one is waiting in the wings. I don’t have to nurse the final few ounces, wondering when or whether I’ll ever find another. I can pour it, enjoy it and replace it.

That changes the experience more than you might think. Value, of course, is always relative. Supply and demand play a major role in determining what a whiskey costs, and scarcity can drive prices far beyond what the liquid itself might justify. A limited release might become highly desirable because there simply aren’t enough bottles to satisfy everyone who wants one. Meanwhile, a whiskey that’s produced in large quantities and sold at a reasonable price might deliver nearly as much enjoyment without generating anywhere near the same excitement.

But I’m not collecting whiskey merely to admire the bottles or speculate about what they’ll be worth someday. I buy whiskey because I enjoy drinking whiskey. And when I can increase my supply of a quality bourbon at a bottom-shelf price, I’ve found something that satisfies both my palate and my wallet.

There’s a broader lesson in there somewhere, and it goes beyond bourbon. We have a tendency to associate value with expense. The more something costs, the more important we assume it must be. The harder it is to obtain, the more we want it. We chase the exceptional, sometimes overlooking the perfectly wonderful things that are already within our reach.

But the things that bring us the most satisfaction aren’t necessarily the most expensive or impressive. Sometimes they’re the dependable things that make ordinary days a little better.

I think there’s something to be said for contentment in that. The Apostle Paul wrote in Philippians 4:11 that he had learned to be content whatever his circumstances. He wasn’t talking about bourbon, obviously, and his circumstances were considerably more serious than deciding which bottle to pour on a Sunday afternoon. But the principle still applies. There’s value in appreciating what we have rather than constantly chasing something bigger, better or more prestigious.

I can appreciate the extraordinary bottles in my collection without needing every glass to be an extraordinary occasion. I can recognize that The Saint is special while still finding genuine enjoyment in something that costs one-tenth as much. And I can be perfectly content drinking a bourbon that scores an 82.41 because, at that moment, it’s giving me exactly what I want.

That’s the beauty of finding a bottle that earns its shelf space. It doesn’t have to be the best whiskey you’ve ever tasted. It doesn’t have to impress your friends, win awards or command ridiculous prices on the secondary market. It just has to be something you genuinely enjoy enough to keep buying, pouring and sharing. And if it’s good enough that you want another bottle waiting when the first one runs out, I’d say it’s earned its place.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I have another trip to Shores to make.

The Sunday Pour is a weekly reflection on whiskey, life and the things that matter somewhere between the first sip and the last.

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Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.