Guess who is coming to spend the night?

Okay, who invited Beryl to the party?  Nothing says summer fun like an early Hurricane in the Gulf.  We just finished getting the May damage to the dock repaired right before we left…my head said to wait as I felt we would see more damage this summer.  Wonder if Downtown Houston and the 4,000 blown out office windows will have that same feeling.  Yeah, paying the stupid tax once again…we do that bunches cause we are so anal.  One bright note, we moved all the electrical boxes for the boat and jet ski lifts up 3 feet…so we won’t have to change all that stuff out again.  Of course, when we sell the house, you will need a step stool to get to said lift boxes…but new owners would never know that until they bring home the new boat…the view always distracts folks.  After 18 years, we use to love watching storms come in and the wave action…we have learned that wind and waves always have a costly next morning hangover.  Then there is the part of finding someone to repair the damage.  We have been rebuilding our list of “people” since Harvey…we set the List on fire then and burned a lot of bridges.  Scorched earth…that is how we roll.  

We are now in the final week of our stay in North Carolina.  These last few days were the ones we planned just for us.  A final lap to the Famers Market…my favorite.  Completion of our restaurant bingo board of favorites…however, Eddie quoted my mom and said “Not as good as it use to be”….and added “that is a lot (meaning money) for that (meaning food)…I agree, but it beats cooking three meals a day any day of the week.   8 years ago when we first started coming here, it had not been discovered by many…now the secret is out, we see car tags for everywhere and crowds where we use to see few.  We have explored before, this time we are quite happy to sit on the deck and watch the breeze in the trees…and count the deer population as we drive from here to there.  Eddie even saw a newborn baby fawn that was spooked out of hiding by the rumble of thunder.  You know you have arrived at that certain age when you can identity the various birds, delight in nature and find a cool breezes exciting.  Right, Joe?  Oh, he might forget the birds names unless Jill whispers them in his ear.

George was here from the start, and Lauren and fam joined us for the week of the 4th.  The week was fairly uneventful except for a Karen story.  Yeah, I am sharing one on me…really two.  First was Date night for L&D.  George and I were responsible for kid entertainment….we picked  movie time.  Despicable 4…Eddie suggested we get tickets online ahead of time.  Check, in my Apple Wallet…no instructions, just the scan code and Theatre 7.  We arrived and there was one person working the concession stand, no ticket takers, no indication of which of the 10 screens had which movie. …so, we sit down in Theatre 7 with 3 kids, no concessions…line too long, one person.  Well, the next 10 minutes were filled with previews of coming attractions…of course,  the green screen with the “suitable preview for all ages” before each…I was horrified when each preview was more scary than the next.  The kids assumed the position—- hands over eyes and ears…looked like the three monkeys…I had my hands over Lucy’s eyes and ears for a make sure.  Finally, the adult in the room (George) stood up and said, “this is not right, let’s leave”.  We hustled out, and I am sure that nightmares would be part of the kids evening activities..date night comes at a price these days.  George made a quick detour to concessions determined the theatre was actually number one.  We regrouped and sat down for 94 minutes of minions in Theatre 1.  At about the 75 minute mark, Lucy announced she was dying from hunger.  I attempted to ignore the pleads (which got louder and more attention getting-like I was pinching her each minute) …until the 80 minute mark….Lucy is the most persistent of the three.  While at the Concession stand, purchasing my smallish $10 bag of movie popcorn, I inquired about the procedure that had led us to the horror movie (The Quiet Place prequel) theatre instead of the Yellow Minions world.  He explained that you were suppose to scan the code at the monitor on the table with the extra butter and napkins and it would direct you to the appropriate theatre. I asked how was I to know this procedure….he answered that everybody just knows it.  No signs, not email, not nothing…just you just know.  I returned to our seats with the smallish bag of $10 popcorn…apparently everyone wanted popcorn and Lucy was the designated speaker for the group.  Oh, I forgot about Rooney…Lucy’s stuffed monkey that she acquired on an outing to Tweetsie Railroad.  You know the monkey that has long arms and legs that has Velcro hands and feet to attach around your neck and waist.  Rooney and Lucy have been inseparable since Monday.  Rooney had to come to the movies.  In all the chaos of popcorn and exiting the theatre, Rooney got left behind.  We were in the car, half way back to the cabin when it hit me that we were short one Monkey.  I asked Lucy if she had Rooney…I glanced at her in the rear view mirror…the surprised look, the shaking of head and the tears that immediately sprang to her eyes said we were going back.  I did what any good Grandmother would do, u turned on the top of a hill with double yellow lines on either side.  Now George had the sissy bar.  Back the 15 minutes to the movie theatre.  Uncle George ran inside to talk to the folks that cleaned up Theatre 1….Rooney had already found a space in the Lost and Found box.  Rooney rescue complete, and securely wrapped around Lucy’s neck once more.  Of course, Eli, our budding teenager, stated that his mom would not have returned so Lucy would remember to take care of her possessions in future.  Score one for Uncle G and One for NeyNey (me)….we will take small victories where we can.  George is still not over me pivoting far right lane to far left on hilltop.  PTSD at its finest. Who needs minions…we have our grandmother….

Back to Normal

Ahh…where were we?  George and I had just left of our massages and Eddie was nesting at the cabin and doing Laundry.  I know you are sitting on the edge of your seat  as to what happened next…Friday arrived and things were back to normal.  George and I got up and drove the two hours to Asheville and Biltmore, while Eddie on Day 9 took a much needed “me day”.  I am impressed that he hung in there this long.  Actually, he had never been part of the Biltmore tour plans this trip.  We have been coming to Biltmore since 1976…the changes to the “experience” has expanded dramatically (not in a Disney but more Downton Abbey way).  George is both a history buff and Downton fan, so he had no problems on saying yes to a day visit.  The one thing that Biltmore and Disney does have in common is the price of tickets and all the add ons that you can make…well in advance.  If you show up bright and early at the gate without tickets…you will have the late afternoon entrance to the home…it is timed entry these days.  Like we say, a failure to plan is a plan for failure.  Biltmore is the largest home in the United States…178,926 square feet of floor area…there are small liberal arts colleges that don’t have that much space.  I never fail to be impressed with both the history and the challenge to keep family legacy of ownership alive.    

You know that heat dome in the Mid Atlantic states? It made its presence know in Asheville.  84 with humidity and several thousand of your new best friends shuffling through this large home cooled mostly by fans and high ceilings.  Good times, for sure.  We finished our tour and made a dash to the winery for a tasting as we needed to leave by 3:30 to make it home for 6:00 dinner reservations.  We have changed our glencarin glassware for wine glasses for this portion of the trip…we did the brewery tour a few years back…we do not discriminate in our consumption of alcohol, equal opportunity, for sure.  Years ago, it use to be a medicine cups on barrel tops.  The winery has been expanded dramatically….along with their offerings and “experience value”.    George tasted…if time had permitted we would have done the chocolate pairings.  I can chocolate and drive…for sure.  Going home to Texas, Eddie will be channeling his interBurt Reynolds/Smokey and the Bandit bringing several cases of liquor across state lines…

Saturday was Me Day 2 for Eddie….if a little is good a lot be more better…one of my absolute favorite things here in North Carolina is the Farmers Market circuit… in particular, the best is the Watauga County Farmers Market…Saturday from 8-12:00.  In the eight years we have come, the vendors/farmers never change.  I have learned that 8:30 arrival time means prime up close parking and the vendors still have plenty of produce.  You can talk gardening trash with the fellow that put out the plants in the garden.  I brought my wing man, George, as he is cooking dinner for us tomorrow evening.  He was overwhelmed at the fresh vegetable and fruits selections.  We celebrated our purchases over family style breakfast at the Daniel Boone Inn Restaurant.  Google it…there are not many things like this left these days…fresh faced college kids, putting all u can eat bowls of all the breakfast favs on the table for you and yours to eat $15.95 each, no credit cards, cash only, no doggie bags…and Eddie slept in. 

Well, you have suffered through the boring, on to Sunday with Eddie.  Eddie always rallies for Sunday brunch…remember things are back to normal, this part of the trip was the beginning of the family portion and he does not have quite the handle in what comes next….queue to endless questions and comments.  I tell him these are the options, but concrete plans, nope.    Yeah, things are back to normal.  Today, we were doing Sunday brunch at a Boone restaurant, then a trip to Grandfather Trout Farm so that George could fish for Sunday’s night trout. I am sure you are aware of the expression of “shooting fish in a barrel”..it is kind of like that, but involved worms, kernel corn and well used cheap rods and reels from Wal Mart or even Amazon…although I have not seen very many of the familiar Amazon E vans since we left Texas.  Following our fishing adventure, we were going to stop at Grandfather Wineries …wait for it…a tasting…imagine my surprise when Eddie emerged from the bedroom, with khaki pants, blue dress shirt and caramel wingtips.  In  my most non combative voice, I asked Eddie if he remembered we were fishing at Grandfather Trout Farm.  He replied that just because every one else in these resort areas have forgotten how to dress appropriately, doesn’t mean he has to follow suit.  Okay, Joe…at least he did not babble or lose his train of thought.  He went back and changed his shoes to his brushed suede tie up shoes. The assortment of clothes that he brought were interesting.  Due to his skin issues, he shies away from shorts.  Fine, at least pack some blue jeans, sneakers or your beloved Sketchers…the ones without stains and holes.  Nope, we packed for a cruise…not a month in a car and in the woods.  Kinda like a small child that bring everything but clothes when allowed to pack on their own.  

Post brunch (with the required Bloody Mary), we drove the 10 miles to the Trout Farm.  There are two stocked trout ponds and a auxiliary nasty stagnant pond which is counted on their FB website, but has never been used in the 8 years we have come here.  Two Bubbas dressed in tee shirts with this season’s fish blood stains permanently part of the outfit.  Then there is Momma that run this place since it opened in the 1980’s…curiosity got the best of Eddie.  He had originally stated that he was going to sit in the car and read so as not to get his outfit dirty.  So, here I am with my seven (Ty-three) year old and my four (Ty one) year old little boys grabbing the cheap rods and headed out to catch a fish, just like all the other small children with their parents.  I was left to bring the 5 gallon plastic bucket, fishing net, container of kernel corn and container of worms….like I said we are back to normal.    Oh yeah, I almost forgot.  Bubba #1 offered Eddie a chair seeing how Eddie was dressed as a gentleman fisherman, and all.  B#1 must have wanted a big laugh as Eddie selected the aluminum framed with the woven RWB man made fiber webbing…circa 1990’s or before. (Read half of the webbing missing, or torn)   Well, off we stroll to the back side of  the larger pond where B#1 had said that the 4-6 pounders lived.  Between Eddie’s proper dress and George Aversion to slimy things…I baited the kids’ hooks.  You may ask why we are doing this instead of grocery pick up in the seafood counter?  This is not your H‑E‑B…yet.   Well, we do love to support the local economy, but they don’t sell what can be locally caught is so many places for free.  Eddie pops open the vintage swim team chair, and gingerly lowers himself into seat.  Whew, that was close…must have been made in America…built to last.  The weather is okay for trout…overcast and mild, a littler higher humidity due to all the water around us.  The squeals of small children “catching” the big one-with parent assist broken the rather quiet late morning.  Our two big kids were without a nibble or squeal.  We decided to move around the pond…closer to the action, but not to encroach on the other fisher people…being we are with the Fisher Gentleman, after all. 

Just as all small children, Eddie lost interest when the fish did not immediately bite, and the cheap reel was not the quality that he has at home.   He stood up very carefully and announced he was going to the car.  The chair survived.  Well, the minute he left…fish on.  I manned the net, George reeled in his prize…not the advertised 4-6 pounder, but after an hour in the humidity 1.5 worked for us.  B#1 had explained that the “drunk fool” that stocks the ponds reversed the the order last time…biggie went in small pond, small in front large pond.  Sure is hard getting good help these days.  Post catch, Eddie returned to see if our luck had improved.  The fish must have sensed the fisher gentleman was back, they stopped even casual bait stealing.  The expert Eddie told George he needed to move to the water inlet area. No, George has now decided that the gentleman fisherman is bad luck.  Sure enough. Eddie gives up a second time and wanders back to the car for air cooled space.  He had no more reached the car when George hooked a 3.5 fish.  So, with or 5 gallon full of water and fish, we go back to the Bubbas’ office space…cash register, ice machine, scales to weight your catch and a fish cleaning station.  We were weighed, filleted  and paid in about 10 minutes and on our way to the winery.  Our timeline was a little delayed, so the winery parking was almost non existent and the walk was pretty long.  Eddie stayed put and we dashed in for a couple of bottles of favorites…we were just doing the tasting because it was free.  

We spent the afternoon preparing for dinner and for Lauren and family’s evening arrival…so, I will be busy the few days…stay tuned.  

99 Bottles of Bourbon in the Car

99 bottles of Bourbon in the car, 99 bottles of Bourbon in the car…take one down and pass it around 98 bottles of bourbon in the car.  Our trail riders are mounted up and ready to ride to the last two distilleries and stamps in the book to conclude this part of the trip.  My readers will note, this is Day 7 of our trip…and we all know our Eddie, after 3 days of heavy traveling, touring, eating and drinking…Eddie normally requires a “me day”…we are Day 7…the Master Planner Eddie’s has yet to have a me day…guess he is channeling his interKaren.    However, when climbing out of bed at 7:30 every morning to drive, drink, drive, repeat, he admitted that the pace was a little grueling.  You think?  

Learning from the previous day of no breakfast, we all ate before leaving the Hampton Inn.  We arrived at the Lexington Brewing Company a few minutes before opening at 10:00.  This was a tasting only affair.  They had bathrooms and running water, so I was happy.  It made the cut because it was open on Wednesday, fit the travel direction and was the only beer and spirit brewery/Distillery in Kentucky.  Of course, it was another stamp in the book.  While their Town Branch brand is widely available around the country, some of their Irish whiskey and single barrel offerings are not.  They are part of a larger international operation that has another distillery in Scotland.  So, because this place did both, you could taste both.  Okay, how many of you bet against the house and thought Eddie would take a day off from tasting?  House wins.  Eddie sampled the various spirits.  We left with a bottle and two 4 packs of barrel aged beer.  George told him that you could get it at H‑E‑B, but Eddie liked the guy doing the tasting…he was from Corpus Christi.  I asked if it was good, he said the 12 year old was decent…not sure whether Eddie’s brain has become pickled, or the Master Card moment has become automatic muscle memory.  At these prices, I feel “decent” can stay on the shelf….we need descriptions like outstanding, one of the better, extraordinarily smooth, wonderfully drinkable…on to our next stop. 

This was our final stop. It was a really interesting area.  Some old circa 19th century brick rickhouses, which may or may not have had barrels in the upper floors-the first floor was a bunch of funky shops or small eateries, there were food trucks, converted brick buildings with coffee shops, a bakery, ice cream shops, couple of breweries and at the end of it all two different distilleries.  Eddie only knew about James Pepper.  We arrived for a tour and tasting at 10:20ish.  Anxious to get on the road for a 5-6 hour drive to Blowing Rock, he again sweet talked the tasting gal into doing what he wanted not what was the regular tasting selection…she must have seen the Master Card in his hand.  George must have reviewed his Master Card billing because he tasted but passed on the purchase.  Smart boy.  He comes over frequently enough that if he wants a pour of a bourbon left behind we can oblige him.  The Barrel House distillery opened too late for the boys to visit.  The entire vibe and concept was great. I am sure UK students are there every night of the week.  

With all of our purchases literally stuffed into every nook and cranny of the car, we are off to North Carolina, via Virginia and Tennessee.  No orange barrels, good two lane roads over and around mountains…lots of coal trucks.  Thank goodness for the passing lanes.  I was behind the wheel for the first four hours, Eddie on passenger door handle and right hand floor brake.  The weather forecast was questionable, so arriving earlier rather than later, dry instead of wet was all I could hope for.  

We arrived at the Fire and Ice Cabin at 4:30.  Again, Eddie selected the cabins that we could choose from.  I just had a few qualifiers…I did not want to be on the Banner Elk side of Boone. If he selected Banner Elk which has newer places and nicer restaurants, it is a hard pick for groceries and activities. The highway is around the mountain and down in heavy traffic.  I wanted enough bedrooms and bathrooms that there was no waiting or fighting.  So, he presented a few options and Fire and Ice won…pool table, air hockey table, pac man arcade game, foosball I guess sealed the deal.  I was vaguely familiar with where it was.  We had stayed in a log cabin 6 years ago near the bottom of the “ski mountain” on the outskirts of Blowing Rock.  This place it off the paved road at the top of ski mountain, sharp right then a mile long narrow (read fall off on passenger side, hug the trees) gravel one way loop.  Fire and Ice is maybe second or third from the end of the loop.  There are probably 20 houses on the loop, no street or other lights to guide you.  The really deep drop off are marked with the dyi Wal Mart red light sticks…yay!  Dinner reservations are for 8:15 Thursday night.  Once again, I will be the designated driver….at night, no lights, and a possibility of rain-what could go wrong.  You might ask if I have FOMA at not participating in the tastings…nope.  By the time all of this bourbon gets home, I can have a private tasting (we have medicine cups) of all the Cadillac, Tesla, Mercedes, Bentley brands out there.  Nah, I am good. 

Thursday morning we were awoken by the wonderful sound of rain in the trees and on the metal roof, temperatures in the low 60’s.  Makes the long drive all worthwhile.  I had put in an advanced grocery order and left early to pick it up.  I was relying on memory of how to go the back way through the college town of Boone.  Got to Harris Teeter (a much better Kroger owned-regionally brand store in NC) and went to the one lane (yes, one lane for advance order pick up) and texted my arrival.     It was quick, but one lane…can you imagine one lane at H‑E‑B….the riots would make national news.  I tried to get fancy on the way home and took a wrong turn in the rain.  When I saw the golfers with umbrellas in the rain, I kinda knew I was off the normal Route back to Blowing Rock.  Despite being directional challenged, I thought I could figure it without with our lady of the car’s help.  I found the home office of Samaritan’s Purse (huge outreach arm of the Billy Graham ministries)…never had seen them before, also some big, bigger, biggest homes, and some unpaved roads…not on the mountain top, more valley.  I finally gave up and asked our lady of the car to help me get back to Fire and Ice. Better not tell Eddie, he will insist on drive home after drinks and dinner tonight.  

I arrived home a little before ten.  Since I am Eddie this trip, I let him unpack and put up him the groceries and supplies…you would think that for a 3 week stay they would have given us more than two rolls of toilet paper, two dishwashing pods, and one roll of paper towel….particularly at the price we are paying.  Nope, there it is in the contract what will and will not be provided regardless of length of stay…so there were lots of groceries  and supplies to unload.   I grabbed George and we set off to have massages and eat lunch…Eddie was assigned the laundry duty, he could eat what was purchased at the store.….it is good to be Eddie on this trip.   

I hear Bangos

Okay, Eddie, today’s selections were seriously curve balls in the trail…the trail, very apt description!  Our first stop was way off the beaten path of the Frankfort and Lexington civilized distilleries.  Our lady of the car (she had to phone a friend -Google Maps) was even confused, particularly when the paved road ended and the gravel roads and corn fields began.  There-high on the hill the tell tale rick house in all of it black fungi glory, alerting us that we were close to The Whiskey Thief Distillery previously known as Three Bros. Distillery…yeah, it takes lots of front money and time for bourbon, the little guys don’t always make it.  We rounded the corner field and there it was.  A couple of buildings, a gravel parking lot and a 4 hole outhouse…so, no sewers or septic tanks and they are making bourbon.  Glad I am the designated driver.  Eddie explained that this was a unique concept.  You (the designated drinker) gets 5 barrel pulls from five selected barrels.  If you want to purchase a bottle, you pull and fill you bottle, they take it with which barrel it came from.  There is no retail or wholesale market.  Just a bunch of college aged kids over serving visitors.  The pull is a long copper tube that is inserted into the barrel through the bung hole (such language).  That tool is actually called a Whiskey Thief…betcha Eddie does not (yet) have one of those in his shop.    Three Bros. went bankrupt, Whiskey Thief rebranded and reimagined how they could market their small craft bourbon in a crowded field (no pun intended).   There are no tours, no discussion of the mash bill and corn to rye ratio, no staves that have been charred.  Five whiskey barrels lined up on the concrete floor, each with an open bung hole and a whiskey thief sticking out.  You are handed a  glencairn tasting glass.  These fancy little glasses are an upgrade to the glasses/Shot glasses or medicine cups used just two years ago.  They are all the rage…some let you keep the glasses, some make you buy it in the gift shop.  Whiskey Thief had no such gift shop (if they did not have bathrooms, a gift shop was out of the question), and had not gone to the trouble to have etched or printed logos on the glasses.  Like I said, concrete floors, five barrels and a long line at 10:00 AM in the middle of no where anxious to get their taste of barrel strength (110 proof…probably).  College students are eager to please so the pulls were more than the thimbles full, this was a hefty pour…Eddie had not had breakfast, George grabbed a bagel at the breakfast bar.  One, two, three, four, five….you bought a bottle, let’s celebrate…six…don’t want to waste any…yikes!

Needless to say, I drove the party wagon to our next stop.  Woohoo!  Remember my DSP numbers thing. Since I am Eddie this trip,  I made up the meaning is a previous post.  It is Distilled Spirits Permit not Still.  Right now a low number of DSP-KY gives you a bragging rights and that air of authenticity and history.  Funny what people look for while on the trail.  This about an actual named descendant of J.Mattingly that had the DSP-KY-2 (along with another fellow Bernheim who also had DSP-KY-1 by himself).  Well, Jeff Mattingly decided to grab his roots and re-enter the all ready crowded market.  Did he get the number back from Heaven Hill-what do you think?  He is number DSP-KY-20031, nope…figure HH had something to do with the inability to grab your old number rule.  We were suppose to have a tour and tasting, Eddie wanted to cut to the chase and just taste…heck he had not had a drink in a good 20 minutes, so needed to keep the party rolling.  They bellied up to the bar (while I sat in the bar area seating) and did what they do best, 5 tastes and Master Card moment.  Almost always the single barrel bottle…limited to 185 (plus or minus based on the Angel’s share (read Evaporation during aging) bottles.  For those of you keeping score, we are the eleventh stop, two boys, 11x2+random liquor store purchases=upwards of 28 bottles…where is Amazon when you need a another carrier.  Good grief.  Hope Eddie lives long enough to consume all of these purchases.  

Did I happen to mention that this Distillery was right across the street from Buffalo Trace Distillery (BTD is the local shorthand) -the Trail’s Mecca?  George has already determined earlier in the day the bourbon of the day at the distillery is the horse topped Blanton’s, for a mere $69.99, one to the customer every 90 days.  Of course we are going to get our one per customer, don’t be silly…along with about 200  other bourbon people.  Looks like a Black Friday Sale at Macy’s before the internet…wild!  Since they continually restocking the bourbon of the day, no standing in line, just pass through the security stop.  They put a tracking chip bracelets in you in case you get lost or are too curious…oh yeah, you don’t have to pay for a  tasting…read, more bourbon before food.  Even Eddie passed. 

Post hardy lunch-lots of bread, protein and water, the boys were ready to roll to our final stop of the day,   Glenn Creek Distillery.  Here again, we were off the main road, down by the banks of the Kentucky River.  At the end of the road was probably the oldest and black bunch of Rick house (original 1800 brick construction) along with a blackened distillery operation.  The Rick house belong to Jim Beam these days, but this serene setting was were the Old Crow distillery stood…Old Crow was the #1 whiskey in the world…Mark Twain and William Faulkner were big fans…a late change to the recipe (a la Coca Coke) in the latter part of the 20th century signal the downfall of the brand.  Jim Beam purchased the operation.  Old Crow is still produced by Beam, but is a bottom shelf affair as it is only aged 3 years.  The distillery portion was purchased by Glenn Creek in 2013 to the be a small batch craft distillery.  I don’t think anyone has cleanup since James Crow was here.  The port-a-potty was a signal that I would wait in the car for this stop.  The owner, Dave, was out of town on vaca….hmmm, and we paid for a tour and tasting in April…how does that work?  No refund, no exchanges.  Disappointed because the tour was a history lesson on the rise and fall of Old Crow along with the usual stuff.  Dave and company left a kid, maybe not even drinking age, in charge of the shop.  Nice kid, could repeat most of the history kinda of sorta, but lacked experience….5 more moderate medicine cups of bourbon..and the now expected purchase of the single barrel offering.  

It is 2:30, our party boys have quieted down considerably.  Between the Lady of the Car and I, we made it to the hotel.  Eddie rallied momentary to check us in to the two room (yay) while George and I played car Jenga.  Guess what happened next?  Lots of water, then 3 hour naps for the boys.  Looking across the table at dinner, I could see blood shot eyes, and a little throbbing temples.  The party was fun while it lasted…Eddie stated that he was planning on just doing the tours on Wednesday, and not tasting….I am taking odds on that one.  

Bourbon Trail Day 3

 🎶It’s  all about the Bourbon, ‘bout the Bourbon, no vodka🎶

Well, have to hand it to Eddie’s Master Plan as Monday was so different to anything we had experienced in the previous tours.  When he got an “atta a boy” pat on the back for job well done (since I am Eddie this trip, those can be few and far between) he explained he tried to select distilleries that were both well reviewed, fit our travel schedule and provided different styled touring and tasting.  

Before I launch into the Whiskey Touring, I have to share a classic Eddie story.  Remembering that Eddie planned and booked everything with no input from either George or myself, let’s talk about Louisville accommodations.  He had prided himself that he had booked two adjoining rooms for the entire trip, with the sole exception being  the Bed and Breakfast as the options for a second room were not available.  I had an inkling that Louisville was only one room as I receive the “check in now” email about 12 hours out.  There were two emails for check in Arkansas, but only one in Louisville.  Hmmm.  When he went to check in while George and I handled car logistics (read unpacking and shifting items so they were covered under the black sheet we carry for such stealth operations in my Hyundai).  Eddie comes stomping back to the car displaying his “something is not right, someone (not him) has made a mistake” scowl.  He quickly mansplains there has been a corporate or internet mistake because he booked two rooms for two nights in Louisville and where is the hard copy of the two reservations.  They wanted another $400 for the two night for an additional room, which is almost a $1,000 for two nights which is ridiculous.  Please note after the tastings we have had, Eddie has not gone blind, but lost his ability to add 4+4.  I sweetly replayed my version of “not it”…but I could retrieve the one email I had received showing the confirmation number and number of people.  Yeah, Hilton 1-Eddie 0.  Since we were in a King Suite with foldout sofa, we would make do for another two nights in one room…snoring males, and one toilet, but breakfast for all.  This all occurred about the time George hoisted the 12 bottle reinforced carrier (Thanks, Amazon) holding about two nights at the Hilton (Eddie math style 4+4=10) worth of distillery only bourbon finds.  Yeah, we will make due for the cause.  

First up was Peerless Distillery.  The gentleman that led the tour was very good at presenting the history of the brand.  It is a smaller distillery based on output, but the backstory was wonderfully rich.  This distillery (Henderson Distillery) was started  in the 1890’s. The founder saw that Prohibition would ruin his his dream.  He knew that finding a way to bottle his product for “Medicinal Purposes” would secure the future to his product…Medicinal Purpose designation was hard to come by in those wild days before Prohibition.  Happen chance meeting of the Walgreens Brothers (yeah, those boys) made the Medicinal Purposes and the required doctor’s orders —a slam dunk. He survived Prohibition for his only child, a daughter and husband to take over.  Third generation was not interested in making whiskey…Military School with Allman Brothers (and expulsion), Patton’s adjunct, and  WWII were his jam.  The brand appeared to have died.    Enter Fourth and fifth generations…fourth was a WallStreet wiz (read money, early retirement), fifth open to change.  The Peerless Distillery was born, using the DSP-KY-50 (Distillers Still Permit) of the first generation…thanks, Ancestry.com.  You had to prove direct family roots to the founder..due to the involved process that is no longer an option.    We even saw fifth generation, Carson Taylor walking the floor of the still area.  While small, they are kosher (few are) and hold to the fashioned family operations, traditions and quality.  They have picking up several awards in past couple of years.  This is a brand to watch particularly in a corporate crowded field.  DSP-KY  numbers are currently in the 20,000+ range.  Whose number one and two….Heaven Hill, still family owned and operated.  Buffalo Trace is DSP-KY-113 several brands, but corporate owned.

Next up was the Evan Williams experience.  When the words “experience” is used on a Bourbon Tour, that means Disney or a slick Marketing Agency has been used to present the story.  Evan Williams does a good job on avoid hanging out by the Copper Still and Mash Tanks and discussing mash bill numbers.  To be able to purchase their distillery only bottles, you need a tour sticker and have made it to the second floor gift shop.  Our guide (as well as most of the front end employees) was/were retired school teachers.  They all appeared to be experienced bourbon drinkers…whether by location or by virtue of 4 decades in the classrooms of Louisville.  You pick.

The last one was an interesting selection…on so many levels.  We left Whiskey Row and headed to the other side of the tracks…yeah, the underbelly side of town…a tad on the sketchy side, but no obvious red danger warning flag.  The NULU neighborhood.  It is an area that has seemingly  abandoned Rick houses or distillery buildings, brick, metal or board turned black with the alcohol fungi that is ever present on most of the buildings.  But it is hard to tell, Louisville has had as many as 100 distillers…each had to someplace to make and age the bourbon in it American Oak barrels.  Prohibition Distillery is one part small craft distillery, one part speak-easy as you had to knock on the door and tell them why you where there, and one part a Netflix movie waiting to be made.  Our tasting hostess, Willow, is one of a small handful of original employees.  The original operation paired a master distiller, Harrison/Harry with his bff and  financial wizard, Brian, who set out to create a small batch craft bourbon.  Turns out Brian was a con man, stole all of the employees personal information, took out $2 million in loans in their names, never using the money to get the necessary DSP and Tax ID, all the while creating a paper trail that made Harry look like the guilty party.  By the time the web of deception was unraveled, Brian was in the wind.  The lawyers took pity on Harry.  Harry had also been charged with bootlegging and moonshining.  His product was destined to be destroyed.  The lawyers found enough investors, and clears his name, the fraud against its employees credit records, and reputation to be able to bottle the NULU bourbon and rye lines.    What happened to Brian?  Turns out he used his brother’s pictures and information for all of his accounts…his brother had to clear his name, too.   Brian stayed low until the status of limitations ran (7 years, for you non lawyer types).  Willow said distillery gossip has him in business with another sucker, I mean distiller.  It is a story that would make a great 90-115 minute movie.  Willow could play herself….she was an interesting character, for sure.  

As an observer on this Bourbon Tour, it reminds me of small boys in a toy store with money burning a hole in their respective pockets.  Ed and George have similar taste palettes, they typically like the same bourbons.  While almost none of the small batch stuff is available in Texas, the larger names are all there.  They have both focused on Single Barrel Bourbons…which are not sold anywhere except the distillery. Couldn’t they share.  Most have tasting glasses or jiggers for sale or give away.  Then there are tee shirts, christmas ornaments and let’s not forget a Cocktail or recipe book.  The boys come to the car loaded down. They have bottle bags and souvenir bags…and a goofy red cheek glow.   Boys and their toys…

Running away from home

I guess that climate change has turned May/June into August weather.    To review, we have already had a Derecho, which I had to wiki when the weather folks started foaming at the mouth and flapping on the 6:00 news. Multiple monster rain storms with Harvey like totals making its way down the West Fork of the San Jac into Lake Houston bring trash, rising water and the ever popular and always costly dock repairs our way.  Then, most recently Tropical Storm Alberto that  proved that AI is not there yet for predicting landfall…the weather wonks at Space City went old school paper and pencil and got it right.  Put that in the weather blender,  add crazy high temps, with heat indices and bugs-we have packed up the car and left Casa Pickle (add one adult son-George)  for the verdant Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina via the Bourbon Distilleries of Kentucky.  

In the past, I have done all the planning, from A-Z.  Eddie must have either been bored or has not approved of my past selections as he went all in on planning, reservations, bookings and hour by hour itinerary for while we are gone.  I get to be the one that gets in the car and ask where we are going…full on Freaky Friday.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, I could have read the multi paged document, but I figured I would go full Eddie and wait until we are on the road and start questioning his choices.   A side comment on what we bring in the car (as apposed to planes, trains or ships where luggage is weighed and restricted) at this stage of life is ridiculous.  It looks kinda like the Beverly Hillbillies with semi nice luggage and containers..  Stackable, yes…but resembles a Jenga Game when we arrive at night…never mind the repacking the car the next day.  

This is our fourth year to go to the North Carolina.  We go every other year with the family there for part..so we have been doing this for 8 years, despite pandemic and other things that have occupied our attention.    We entertained the thought of purchasing a place there to spend the summers in mild days, cool nights and mountains all around..but the ah ha moment arrived like a hot wet slap in the face. Harvey, forest fires, climate change, grands schedules woke us from that dream sequence…not to mention what has happened to both the real estate and upkeep costs in the same amount of time.  We touched base with a realtor in the area some years back.  We still get almost daily listings.  The increased number of listings looks like there are lots of people who have has the same ah ha moment and reality slapped them in the wallet.  So glad we hesitated.  Speaking of buyer’s remorse…we have counted only 7 RVs, fifth wheels, trailer campers on the road since we left home.  We have seen at least that many RV and/or boat dealers with acres of inventory (new and used based on the signage)…looks like the go go RVing fever has gone.  Wonder if Biden is working on a loan forgiveness program for these folks.  

So, where are we right now you ask?  We are in Lonoke, Arkansas, north of Little Rock off Interstate 40.  If you think I 10 has truck traffic, you ain’t seen nothing until you come to Arkansas….add those special orange barrels (when I am reincarnated I want to owe that business), no shoulders, concrete barriers, you have what the first 400 miles look like.  While there were parts of 59 that had some of these features, Gov. Sarah Huckabee must have called in some big Trump favors when she left the White House.  Those shovel ready projects are all happening in Arkansas.  State must also embrace open carrier-like Glock in holster on hip of a fellow in Burger King north of Texarkana.  His overall appearance did not scream law enforcement nor even rent a cop….more like Bubba vigilante, complete with a phone carrier on his belt.  He was behind Eddie, so George and I were giving each other the “look”…as in the “are you seeing what I am seeing”.  Eddie assumed he had ketchup on his chin…despite numerous inquisitive Eddie looks, we kept the secret until BV (Bubba Vigilante) left the parking lots.  Did not want to be on the 5:00 news of another mass shooting.  Okay, I wrote that line Friday morning.  I looked at the news feed on my phone yesterday afternoon.  15 or more victims in a mass shooting south of Little Rock…yikes, that could have been our guy…or there more than one of the Bubba type in Arkansas.  I guess I need to be more careful of what I write…talk about a poison pin…or loaded words.  

Friday was Groundhog Day, 400 miles of trucks, construction, and massive axel breaking potholes on our overwrought Interstate system through Nashville.  Not to be outdone by Arkansas’ detour over the Mississippi River Bridge, Tennessee made parts of Nashville expansion efforts of said Interstate into an epic traffic jam.  Luckily, our Lady of the car (Waz) took us on an intercity route that made our time in that 10 mile stretch 15 minutes instead of 4 hours.  Our Lady of the car also has saved us money…with lots of “Police Ahead”, which Tennessee must be number one in nation.  Every 20 minutes through the entire state, there has been various law enforcement vehicles and traffic cameras with the “you speed, we take your picture and send you the bill” warning attached.  We will see if Eddie listen the the Lady of the car.  Doubtful.  

Friday night 6:30, a mere 15 minutes behind the printed schedule…remember Nashville back up and a time change in Kentucky to Eastern Standard time, we arrived in Bardstown.  Almost 900 miles of nail biting butt cheek clenching of driving fun.  Upon arrival, we looked at each other and said simultaneously, “our days of long car trips are over”, a classic “this is not a good as it use to be” and “my butt hurts”.  This is what happens when you are married for a long time, two brains or butts become one.  More tomorrow.  

 

Bed & Breakfasts, Bourbon and Bats

This is Day Three of our attempt to run the board on Bourbon Distilleries.  Two years ago, we merely scratched the surface on the number of Kentucky Bourbon Makers.  I did the planning, so it was the bigger more notable one-Buffalo Trace (parent company Sazerac),Woodford Reserve (parent company Brown and Forman) Markers Mark (parent company Suntory Beam) Heaven Hill (Shapiro Family).there were a couple of others, but you get the general idea about Bourbon making these days.  It is not for the little guys for sure, thanks to the bourbon bust that tanked the market at the turn of the 21st century.  While touring last George got a “ Passport” book.  Just like the National Parks, you get a stamp for every one you visit.  Eddie had the control stick this time, the passport became a personal challenge.  We are touring and tasting (we tour, they taste, I drive) 3-4 distilleries a day.  Ambitious…of course it is…would we expect less from Eddie…don’t be silly.

Our first stop was Bardstown…long considered the birthplace of Bourbon.  Close to the center of town there are almost no nationally branded hotels, so both times we have stayed in Bed and Breakfast Inns.  This time it was Bourbon Manor House.  A 200+ year old Greek Revival house, with lots of stairs, and “decorative elements”-read clutter on every surface, antique furniture and no bell hops.  Before we departed we had lunch with some long standing friends.  We were chatting about our plans.  Andy quickly remarked, “I do not do B&B’s…no elevators, electrical outlets and old plumbing”.  While charming, three adults with lots of personal equipment (outlets and uncluttered surface space), a finicky toilet, and lots of antique furniture for two nights made Eddie an official member of the Andy club.  Breakfast was wonderful, there was a bar for evening night caps and a convenient location.  The Greek Revival ten steps to the house with multiple suitcases-close your eyes…you get the picture.  

As you know, I am from Huntsville, in North Alabama…home to NASA, Redstone Arsenal and lots of back woods moonshiners…at least in my childhood memories (1950’s and ‘60s).  Those darn revenuers were always bustin up stills on the local news.  I know and understand how one takes grains-corn, wheat, barley or rye and turns it into a clear liquid with high alcohol content.  I know that if you drink the glass jars from said stills of this stuff you might go blind (where the expression Blind Drunk comes from)  among other things…the only thing that is different is the bourbon markers of today use technology, non GMO grains, and time in barrels to create the amber liquid that has become the huge bourbon (and rye) market of today.  The stills are still pretty much the same, copper coiled lined tanks of either copper or stainless steel..made by the same company for generations.  So tell me, Master Planner Eddie why we signed up for 4 tours daily  of the distillation plants for 4 days?  If we are lucky, we don’t go to the Rickhouses where the barrels are held, typically up the hill, in the heat, to a non ventilated or climate controlled building to see the thousands of barrels waiting to be aged long enough to be sold for a king’s ransom…looking at you Buffalo Trace.  It is all about the same, right?   The prize at the end of the tour is 4-6 pours of the host distillery’s finest.  There is usually one pour of something that can not be purchased anywhere except the distillery…and I am the driver…so, no prize for you, Karen.  These pours are usually a medicine cup worth, but some times you get a hardy 2 ounce pour…again, I am the designated driver.  Do the math.  4 distilleries, by up to 12 ounces per distillery..no, you might not go blind, but a liver transplant might be in your future.  Bottom line, do one of the tours, and just go for the tasting for rest.  We learned first go around that they all have a bar, and you can just buy the flight, no tour.  The truly informed Bourbon Trail Tourist just goes to the gift shop and purchases the only at distillery bottles. There is even a website that “predicts” which distillery will have which product in their rotation that day.  Early bird catches the worm or Blanton’s, as the case maybe.  

Sunday morning, we departed Bardstown for Lebanon about 30 minutes south, and home to Boundary Oaks…never heard of it, it is in the Passport Book…the challenge of all the stamps must be meet.  Small problem, this place booked us for a 10:00 tour when they don’t open until 12:00.  The other distillery in the area Limestone, home to Yellowstone Bourbon, also did not open until noon.  Then it started to rain.  Oops, Eddie…I am the one normally suffering from performance anxiety…how does that shoe feel…a little tight, right?  So, onward to Louisville….home to Churchill Downs, more bourbon, UPS, and Louisville Bats.  We arrived in Louisville to clearing skies and more road construction barrels.  Surprise.  To conform with Kentucky Blue Laws, most of the tastings rooms that line Bourbon Row/Main Street don’t open much before 12:00.  We had eaten a large breakfast and the B&B, so food was not the answer.  We called an audible and went to the Frazier Museum for a history of Louisville…did you know George Clooney, George Patton, Muhammad Ali and Jennifer Lawrence are from the area?  Basketball is in their DNA…and the grasses with the little blue buds that blow gently is why it is called the Bluegrass State?  While it was on the calendar for Monday, a Sunday visit was fine by us.  

Now, the Bats.  Right across the street from the Michter’s Fort Nelson/Main Street Distillery (our 2:30 tour and tasting) was the Louisville Slugger Bat Factory.  While we all played a little baseball or softball and can say we are Astro fans (when they are winning), the name Louisville Slugger Bats are the bats we know.  Heck, we even got a full sized, burned emblem Astro bat from the 90’s…it has been Eddie’s go to for many years for home defense purposes.  I know I would be scared if I saw Eddie in underwear wielding a Louisville Slugger bat in the street light on our block.  This was an unplanned, unexpectedly delightful tour.  The factory has been here from the start and much about how they make these bats has never changed. The woods are a little more diversified.   The equipment that is used is German Machinery made in the 1960’s, that can be served forever, but not replaced.  The dipping and testing has remained the same since the beginning.  The only tip to the present is the computerized lathe that makes bats to the MLB players that have signed with Louisville.  LS (the snazzier logo and shorthand for the Company name) make 100 bats per player, per year.  Those bats are the exact specifications for that player.  It was so low tech, so honest, that you can’t help but thing back to the Babe Ruth, Willie Mays, Mickey Mantle era…heck, even Craig Biggio’s bat and picture was there.  Highly recommend.  

Well, we are walking to dinner so I get to have a glass or two.