You know how climate change deniers have a talent for ignoring evidence? Generally, that's a bad idea. Yet when it comes to whiskey, avoiding expert advice makes perfect sense.

Why should we dribble some water in our whiskey? Well, according to a report released last year by Bjorn Karlsson and Ran Friedman—scientists at Linnaeus University’s Center for Biomaterials Chemistry—the amount of ethanol in the spirit effects the actions of guaiacol. Writing in Whiskey Advocate, Charles K. Cowdery notes that phenols, lactones, acetaldehydes and other compounds are drawn to water.

He even arrived at a formula using an actually graduated cylinder rather than a nice crystal rocks glass: (amount of whiskey)/(water added + amount of whiskey) x (bottle proof) = (perfect proof).

If anyone could ruin a good afternoon of drinking, it’s these guys.

So does a splash of water really “open up” whiskey—make it taste better? Hell, I need to go back to grad school and switch from my cushy major to chemistry or something requiring thick-rimmed eyewear to find out. And that’s not going to happen.

Besides, I’m not one to water down my alcohol—no matter how many esters and acetaldehydes die from want of it. Yet even many whiskey veterans prefer a few drops in their glass. Some even reach for an ice cube or two.

Why do they disparage their whiskey so?

“Water tones it down a notch,” says Lindsey Greblo, a bartender at Schooner’s Coastal Kitchen off Cannery Row in Monterey. “If that first taste is too strong, they might add some water, even if they have whiskey on the rocks.”

Yes, people commit foul deeds. Even Greblo is stunned by such acts of vandalism.

“Why ruin your good whiskey with more water?” she asks.

Andrew Boggan at Tarpy’s Roadhouse along Highway 68 agrees that water softens the initial blow of alcohol, but adds that restraint is in order. “A drop, maybe a couple,” is his suggestion when it comes to the proper amount. No formula necessary.

And there is some common sense behind this. With most forms of whiskey—even those without the “e”—packing at least a 40-percent alcohol punch, certain subtleties can be lost in the pummeling taken by your palate. The experts speak in gentler terms, mind you, referring to that fierce onslaught as “alcohol bloom,” but their point is the same: By dampening the rough stuff, you begin to notice other flavors.

Take Glenfiddich’s 12-year single malt scotch, for instance. Sampled neat, it offers impressions of dark honey, saltgrass, lightly scorched toffee, bread, split wood and candy apple—and that’s just on the nose. Take a sip and a dense butterscotch follows the first burst of alcohol, laced with toffee, butter melting in a pan, pecan caramel and more.

One splash of water later, and that dark honey has tamed into something golden and bright. There is wheat germ, caramel, cedar, candied pineapple, soft floral traces and a notion of cafe Americano. The bitter belt of alcohol is pushed to the finish.

Add another does of water and the sea salt and saltgrass notes come forward. Oak is more prominent, as well.

Of course, there’s more to the flavor profile of each, but the result is clear: water does something—I’m guessing to lactones and guaiacol, but I studied history and those things rarely came up.

Yet those of us who consider it sacrilege to dilute any form of alcohol believe that the people who tend stills and barrels bottle at a particular strength for a reason. To add water when the master distiller has already added 20- to 30-percent water to the product is like shutting off Casablanca before the final scene. You miss the distiller’s point.

Still, Juan Arrazola, a bartender at Fuse Lounge in the Carmel Mission Inn, observes that his guests tend to water down scotch more than other forms of whiskey.

“I don’t really ask why,” he says. “It’s kinda funny.”

And interesting. Arrazola points out that at Fuse Lounge, 80 percent of the patrons order Irish whiskey or bourbon neat—no water at all (“They don’t even want ice,” he adds).

Meanwhile at Tarpy’s, it’s the other way around.

“Scotch, you generally see it neat,” Boggan notes. “With bourbon it’s generally a splash of water or on the rocks.” He estimates that it adds up to 50-50 in terms of neat or water.

But at Schooners, Greblo sees only about 20 percent drinking their whiskey neat.

Statistics may not lie, but they don’t always make sense. And that leads to the answer to this week’s Burning Question. Does water “open up” whiskey? Well, it definitely changes the flavor profile. Whether that’s to the benefit is up to the individual.

We’ll have to wait for the scientists to quantify that.