I can remember the exact first encounter. It was cold and I was in Michigan on some river that was rumored to have a run of steelhead; I wasn’t catching any. Maybe an hour before noon, as my feet numbed and hands shook, a tall man with whom I had been fishing that day told me to come up on the bank, he had something for me. As I approached he reached into his jacket and removed a small flask painted in colors to mimic the pattern of a brown trout. He handed me the container and I fumbled with frigid fingers to unscrew the top and push it to my lips. It tasted sweet but it definitely wasn’t, it burned a little and then became sweet again. I felt warmer.
“We call it steelhead juice”
“What’s in it?”
“A delicate mixture. 60% bourbon, 40% sweet vermouth”
So I continued trying but not catching steelhead and continued to borrow the flask from my friend and which one caused the other I’m not sure.