Whether we do so for the paper or just for our own purposes, the Best Of team invariably does an annual vodka taste-testing. As true connoisseurs, we have to remain in the know, and this year we decided to do it for the record.

With the plethora of vodkas on the market this year – something like 30 national brands can be found now on store shelves – we had to thin out the competition a bit beforehand.

We didn’t include any of the newest vodkas – from this year or last – so that made things a bit easier, and we stayed away from the wheat (pshenichny) varieties, as we wanted a plain product, as pure as the driven snow (especially after reading in the Post that 30 percent of local vodka isn’t authentic).

The list we ended up with included old standards Nemiroff, Myahkov, Myrnaya, Shustov No. 2 and Olimp, as well as the vigorously marketed Khortytsa. We also had a relative no-name in Bilenka, Nemiroff Premium to see if there would be any difference, and Khlibna Sloza, one of those vodkas that come in fancy handmade bottles and are topped with corks covered in wax. With a blind taste-test set up, the Best Of team set to work.

Not our best effort?

About three vodkas into our taste-test, a few of the Best Of team members started grumbling.

“I don’t think I like vodka anymore,” said one.

“Are you sure we have to do this at all?” asked another. It was tough going for a while, but with herring and black bread at the ready, we forged on. The Best Of teamer doing the pouring was asked to make the shots as short as possible. He quickly agreed.

“I don’t think I can taste the difference anymore,” said another team member after his third shot.

“Me either,” said another, who was one of the few team members who professed to like vodka ice cold and neat.

Everyone gave a sniff to their respective shots of vodka, all of which had been put in the freezer overnight to ensure they were chilled properly, then downed the shots either all in one go, coaxing the last drops out of the shot glass, or barely finishing what were really just half shots, preferring instead to hit the chasers quickly and often.

Some early favorites emerged. As Best Of team members discussed their preferences, outtakes from “The Office” and “Seinfeld” played in the background. The outtakes became funnier and funnier. We were getting a bit off-track.

A second round ensued, followed by a third, each round consisting of three different shots, administered in roughly equal portions, with team members noting their favorites, which would be put to a “drink off” at the end of the third round. Surprises emerged, as did smiles and red noses.

The Final Results

In no particular order, the three least-favorite vodkas according to our select team of experts were Khortytsa, Bilenka and Nemiroff Premium (not to be confused with Nemiroff Lex). Team members alternately chafed at either a strong burn in their mouths or throats after drinking each shot or noted a distinct lack of character, making it not necessarily bad, but perfectly indistinct and, therefore, impossible to judge further.

In the mid-range category, the Best Of team gave higher marks to the regular Nemiroff, Olimp and Myrnaya. Of these, Nemiroff scored one first-place vote, Myrnaya one second, and Olimp a third. These vodkas were smoother, had a more discernable taste (mind that good vodka should almost be without taste), and were generally more pleasant than the previous batch.

In third place overall was Odessa’s Shustov No. 2, which received one second-place and one third-place vote. What made it that much better than the others? Best Of teamers were at a loss to say.

Taking second place in the poll, with a strong showing of two second-place votes and one third-place nod, was another Odessa product, Myahkov.

“That one’s actually quite nice,” said a team member who earlier had tried to opt out of tasting any more.

[It might be worth noting here that of all the vodkas stuck in the freezer overnight, the Olimp, Shustov, Myahkov, Nemiroff Premium and our eventual winner did not freeze solid.]

The surprise winner, as it turns out, was a relative unknown, oddly named Khlibna Sloza (“The Tears of Bread”) from Dnipropetrovsk. Unique in taste compared with all the others, Khlibna Sloza was also the lightest and gentlest of all the local brands, having a not-quite-discernable, though pleasant, taste. The little story on the label about how tears from a loaf of bread were used to create this especially light vodka served to lighten our mood and seal the deal.

Kyivpost

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