No Such Thing as Too Much Whiskey

By: Bob White

For years, Kentucky Tourism hosted foreign travel writers and photographers to a weeklong Kentucky Adventure in order to garner some free press for the state’s attractions, along with places to eat and stay. 

I was fortunate enough to drive a few of these groups, and a week spent with a half-dozen Canadians is one I’ll not soon forget.

Their host, Kristy, and I greeted the visitors at the Northern Kentucky/Cincinnati International Airport early one weekday.
We immediately crossed the Ohio River to the Queen City for breakfast at a place where Belgian Waffles are king. Along with the waffles, the restaurant also offered a full bar brimming with spirits, especially Bourbon from Kentucky.

That first stop, little did I realize, would set the tone for our entire week.

Goetta, Graeter’s and Grippo’s delayed our departure from Ohio a bit more, but we made our way back to Kentucky by lunchtime. 
This was, after-all, a Kentucky Tourism junket. 

We finished our Northern Kentucky afternoon in Covington’s Mainstrasse Village – a neat little neighborhood with German flair that included The Old Kentucky Bourbon Bar.
Bourbon was becoming a common theme for these Canadien travel writers.

With more than 600 Bourbon labels on the shelves, I was more interested in this stop than the others. Our visit was short, but I was, after all, just the driver.

Leaving Northern Kentucky, we made our way back to what would be our launchpad for the rest of the week – Louisville’s Seelbach Hotel, in my hometown. 

Our days in Kentucky’s largest city included visits to Churchill Downs, Slugger Museum, Main Street and lots of jabbering about Bourbon.
Whiskey Row, Brown-Forman’s iconic Whiskey Bottle Water Tower, wharf-master Evan Williams, Al Capone’s whiskey connection and the Bernheim Brothers were among the Louisville talk of Kentucky’s Spirit.

It was around this time when I learned our Canadian guests preferred wine over whiskey.
One, in fact, had authored a book about wine, which he gifted me a signed copy of.

With my new understanding, I backed off form the Bourbon 101 talk a guide like myself usually blabs on about. Besides, I was just a driver that week. I noted Louisville sites along the way.

One of our days took us deep into the Bluegrass Region, just outside of Versailles, where we visited the beautiful grounds of Woodford Reserve Distillery, along with Lane’s End thoroughbred farm.

In the Bourbon County seat of Paris, we visited was elegant Claiborne Farms, the final resting place of the great Secretariat.

Of course, we had to mention that Paris is home to the only distillery in modern-day Bourbon County – Hartfield & Co.

We were saturated in whiskey talk. But the Bourbon Boom was on, good and strong by 2013, so it was everywhere.

Lunch one day was at Harrodsburg’s Beaumont Inn – the owners of which had just reintroduced their family label, Kentucky Owl.

That night, we stayed at Shaker Village – a community settled by abstinent, God-fearing hard-workers. Even there, a server proudly announced “beer, wine and Bourbon was just added to our menu!”

Bourbon, Bourbon, Bourbon… and horses, then more Bourbon.
The Canadians understood what Kentucky was about by Day 3, but that didn’t mean they were excited about it. 

Day 4 was spent in Bardstown – the Bourbon Capital of the World. Enough said.
Day 5 was easy, but we rallied for a grand finale of a six-course meal at one of Louisville’s finer restaurants of the day: Lilly’s.

I knew the extravagant meal would take some time, so I kicked back in the driver’s seat of the van after a walk around the Highlands neighborhood.

What a great week it had been, I thought. I learned quite a bit about my home state.

As I reminisced, there was a tap on the driver’s side window.

A server from Lilly’s stood there with brown paper grocery sack in her arms.
I opened the door to assist.
Hardly anyone in your group wanted these,” she said, unloading the bag full of 2-ounce plastic containers that were meant for condiments, like salad dressing, in to-go orders at Lilly’s.

But these plastic containers held something better than any French, ranch or Italian dressing.

I had no idea what the server was alluding to in the bag, until she explained.

“Each course was paired with a Van Winkle, from 10 to 23-year-old, including the rye. But only one in your group wanted theirs,” she said. “They asked me to give them to you.”

“No way,” I responded, as she too shook her head in disbelief.

“We marked most of the lids, so that you’ll know which is which,” the whiskey angel explained.

Granted, this happened just before Bourbon went from popular, to absolutely crazy popular, but Van Winkle whiskies have always been a rarity – and pricey.
A half-dozen people giving away their pours of the entire Van Winkle line was a big deal.

So here I was, sitting in my van with a paper bag filled with Van Winkle whiskies.
One couldn’t make this story up.
While Kentucky Tourism included a generous gratuity for my week of driving its guests around, it was the Canadians’ generosity that I’ll always remember.

For them, the finale was like kicking a dead horse after a full week of Bourbon talk and thoroughbred farms.

For me, it was another great experience that I’ll never forget as a Kentucky Guide.

And the Van Winkle wasn’t bad either – not for a wheater, anyway.