Years ago, when I worked in radio and television in Charleston, West Virginia, I used to spend a little time with the city's chief of detectives. One day when I walked into his office he asked me if I liked "Shine." I told him the stuff I'd had a few times was pretty bad and that I didn't care for it. That's when he pulled a big gallon jug out of a cabinet and said they'd raided a still the night before and told me I should try some. I did. It was as smooth as a rabbit's ear, and ranked right up there with the best whiskey I've ever had.