character:

Somewhere between the light cotton sweaters of September and the winter coats of November, there is Calvados—the copper-color fall-weight scarf of the bar. A mid-course accessory, it is the type of thing one wears on its own and is typically (depending on the quality of the Calvados) rather smartly tied, imparting a slight if casual Continental feel. This alone may keep some away, thinking it merely a look. But Calvados is about warmth, not fashion. And once one has experienced the comfort it imparts, the middle of a long autumn meal, like those cool-not-quite-cold October afternoons, will never feel the same without it.

tastes like:

The Count of Monte Cristo.

pairs nicely with:

An aperitif glass, the brief respite between the third and fourth courses of a five-course meal, and the exact moment one realizes that the meal in progress will be (by far) the highlight of the day; Banquet Officers of the Civic Guard of St. Adrian, Company of Captain Reinier Reael, and The Laughing Cavalier, all by Frans Hals; an early-autumn afternoon spent out of doors, the pleasure of getting ‘back to nature,’ and the even greater pleasures of a small, efficient, and perfectly civilizing thermos; thick leather-bound novels involving either wrongful imprisonment, disputed inheritances, or swordplay (or ideally, all three); the first low afternoon fires one makes for the sake of the pleasure rather than necessity; reading thick leather-bound novels by a low afternoon fire and unexpectedly getting onto a really good bit of swordplay, any great 17th century Dutch still life featuring an overturned goblet, and spiced-apple bread pudding.