Kentucky, Day 7 & 8: Louisville, then home

Though I awoke without a hangover (magically!), I stepped outside into 2025's first blast of humidity. Dark clouds cruised overhead scattering rain, then moved on as if uninterested. Sweat glued my shirt to my back even before my 10-mile city walk began.

Though one doesn't have to go too far from Main St to see that the city has seen better days, industrial facilities still appear to be functioning and employing:

Old buildings have been given new lives with new businesses...

...or not.

The brick side of the now-closed Barbarella club reminded me of the most intense Male Gaze ever applied to a film's opening sequence:

I walked past Dylan's Heaven's Door facility without stopping inside, because I understand his foray into whiskey even less than his Christian Evangelical period.

On my way back to Main Street, I stopped off at Las Margaritas in the Highlands for some very good chicken mole.

Once back among the crowds, I went to a AAA Louisville Bats baseball game, with a great view of the field:

But I struggled to enjoy the experience, and I don't remember the score, because several rows to my left sat a group of 70-somethings who......heckled isn't the right word......screamed at the players with every pitch, with the stadium's ushers seemingly encouraging them. That's 250-300 pitches. I've been in the bleachers at old Yankee Stadium and Wrigley Field, but have never heard such a barrage of incoherent misplaced rage. White Boomers harassing Gen Z, mostly people of color, free from consequences for two-and-a-half hours? It was like watching a Maga hat masturbate.

I left Louisville the next day, but not without stopping at a Total Wine first, because I clearly hadn't weighed down my trunk with enough bottles already, then drove straight home......okay maybe I stopped off at Neeley Distillery for a bottle of absinthe.

It was a smooth sunny drive. Yes, now that my vacation had finished, the rain clouds had retired to the Atlantic Ocean. Upon returning home, I set out all my purchases in the hallway, feeling simultaneously angry and proud of myself. My cat, pissed off at me even though she had been spoiled by the cat sitter, parked herself between the bottles and me for the rest of the night, like the queen she is.

The next day was Saturday, a day of acting and dancing recitals from my amazing girls, and an evening with friends, from whom I received a pour of the dusty gem that will begin my return to whisky reviews next week.

Kentucky, Day 6: Louisville

Having just visited a series of small towns, I was startled to find that Louisville is an actual city city. And I love cities, especially those wherein I can find parking so that I may walk and drink and walk and drink and so on. Louisville offered me that very opportunity. My hotel was one block south of Main Street downtown, and everything was accessible by foot, including...

Phallus much?

...the Louisville Slugger Museum & Factory. Yep, that's where they make the actual bats!

So much good wood

That's what she said

MLB players go to the factory to customize their game bats for the season.

Big hands, I know you're the one.

It was all very geeky and smelled wonderful. Good news: this bat company plants multiple trees for every one they cut down, much like Beam and Heaven Hill. It's relatively sustainable, and may also keep us all alive a little longer.

After the tour, I handled Dick Allen's immense bat.  *Pause for effect*  I also got to swing Ronald Acuña Junior's model in the batting cage, and neither embarrassed myself nor re-injured either rotator cuff. At the gift shop, I customized my own bat, which turned out to be so large that it looks like I'm trying compensate for something.

Next up, the Evan Williams Bourbon Experience, a snug spot that masterfully utilizes a wee bit of city real estate to create a full-on bourbon tour. Before my official experience, I went upstairs to the bar for last call, downing one batch of Elijah Craig Barrel Proof and one batch of Bernheim Barrel Proof (which I discovered existed only at that very moment) much too quickly.

A young whippersnapper named Jacob led the tour, his final one of the day, and imparted way more Louisville history than I'd expected. Some random booze facts:

• Heaven Hill Distillers makes Hpnotiq!?!
• The big Louisville distillery uses the same yeast as the Bernheim facility.
• Evan Williams 23 year old comes from only the bottom two rows of the warehouses.
• They have their own mini distillery onsite that produces the Square 6 brand.

The tour concluded properly with a tasting...

...with Evan Williams 12yo 101 Proof winning everyone over. In case you don't recall, I've been to London and to France, but only Tokyo has the queen's damned undies 12yo 101 Proof for one-fifth of the price that this Louisville gift shop slings it for (when in stock). It's good bourbon, though!

Around 5pm, I floated out of The Experience over-whiskied, looking for a walk and some food. After strolling for an hour I entered Garage Bar, which had many positive online reviews. Unfortunately after weathering burnt dry pizza, an extra syrupy old fashioned, disinterested service, and a very musty odor, I wondered if there was another Garage Bar somewhere else in town. There doesn't appear to be.

My city-wandering continued until after sundown. After peeking into some live music bars and finding only contemporary country awaiting me everywhere, I found my way back to the hotel room, wrapped myself up in Hilton's very fluffy duvet, and fell asleep without setting an alarm.

Kentucky, Day 5: Clermont

So did I wake up early enough to get to Bernheim Forest before my lone distillery tour? NOPE. I was a 46-year-old man drinking unwise amounts of oak extract for four days in a row. The fact that I woke up at all is a testament to the existence of an intact liver.

Perhaps I should qualify and quantify "unwise amounts". Some of you excellent readers burn through 1/4 or 1/3 of a bourbon bottle on a Wednesday night. I cannot. Usually I'll make 30mL of bourbon disappear without much struggle, but then the sweetness and tannins lead me to a low-abv lager to wash it all down. On this Kentucky trip, I was trying 8-12 whiskies a day, some 15mL, some not.

Thus when I woke up on Day Five after 11 hours of sleep [Ed. Attention parents, this is a thing you can do when vacationing without children.], my priority was hydration and finding an easy breakfast, rather than sticking to a silly schedule.

Nonetheless, I made it to James B. Beam Distillery on time. And I was the only one in my tour group. That made for a great visit, especially since my guide didn't toe the entire company line about all of their products. In this person's professional defense, I will say they provided all the production facts and history at a perfect pace. And they also didn't disagree when I stated my feelings about the Basil Hayden range, and the company's Canadian brown spirits.

Triple sploosh

The thing is, I really like Beam's bourbon (aside from BH). Despite the company being another soulless conglomerate, they've honed a certain type of figurative wheel that cannot be reinvented by any of the new startups, unless those baby companies are still around in 100 years. (If anything is still around in 100 years.) Knob Creek bourbon just hits right, as does the new Jim Beam 7yo Black Label. OGD 114 still works, as does the latest version of Baker's. I'll never forgive them for disposing of Old Taylor and degrading Old Crow, but that doesn't mean Beam can't maintain a good product or two.

As you may see above, the product ranges aren't just about picking barrels in the rickhouse, though Booker's does come from the center rows, furthest from the windows. There are different spirit cuts, and varying fermentation times (3-5 days) depending on the mash's starting temperature.

Their 65'x6' column still easily measures up in any size contest. They continue to source their corn (yellow #2) from within Kentucky. Bernheim Forest provides their water. And they're transparent about batch sizes. Beam White Label = 1000 barrels. And "small batches" are around 250 barrels.

The company now has a trio of distilleries: the one I visited; another in Boston, KY (where White Label is made); and a little crafty one that was completed four years ago.

At the conclusion of the tour, I got to put my thumbprint on my own bottle of Knob Creek Single (1 of 1, baby! It's worth a fortune!), and then I went upstairs to the bar, because of course.

Clermont Steep, Beam's single malt, works for my palate because it is very barley-forward, and not gussied up with extra-extra-charred barrels. Baker's High Rye 7yo, is good enough to buy......once I whittle down the bottles that came back to OH from KY. The OGD 16yo with the excellent label was probably the best of the four, with KC18 just behind it. Not a single complaint from me about their qualities.

Then FINALLY, Bernheim Forest.

Is this heaven? No, it's a Bob Ross painting.

Yes, a day with sunlight! I highly recommend a visit to Bernheim Forest, especially since it's just across the road from Beam, and the perfect place to indulge one's buzz and then walk it off on a clear day.

Happy little trees, flooded

Me posing with Ardbeg's latest cask experiment.

Upon returning to the hotel, I got changed and headed out for another long stroll, this time to downtown Bardstown. After an early dinner, I went to Evergreen Liquors to explore their bar.

After trying two of Evergreen's sold out exclusive single barrels (see above), I ventured to the nearby Volstead Bourbon Lounge. Why there? Because:

With a visual setup reminiscent of my favorite Tokyo whisky bars, Volstead provides the patron with just a few beverage choices. Luckily, I sat down right in front of an 11yo single barrel of MGP rye. Was it delicious? I'm going to say......yes. Only upon finishing my pour did I realize the bar was closing.

I exited the bar and walked 45 minutes through dark neighborhoods, back to the hotel. Was that wise? Probably not. Was I sober? I'll let you guess. The evening air was calm and cool, and I didn't have to pee. Equal pluses in my book.

Under the covers I went, moments after returning to my room. I slept the sleep of an organism processing ethanol. Louisville would beckon me in the morning.