We spent a wonderful 24 hours in the capital area of Frankfort, Kentucky after we left Mammoth Cave. We stayed at a peaceful Harvest Host family farm in Bagdad, KY, which was ideally situated along the famed Bourbon Trail, and specifically close to the Buffalo Trace Distillery.
We have visited several distilleries over the years, and this one was very impressive. It is the oldest, continually operated distillery in the United States, having received a clever, lawful designation during the 1920’s Prohibition Era to continue making their “medicinal” spirits. They have been making these tasty, amber colored spirits for over 200 years.
Our tour took us through several of their more than 20 buildings, learning about the entirety of the process of making these fine bourbons, whiskeys, and even their experimental offerings, the kind that will set you back $28,000.00 a bottle!
Our Kentucky born and raised guide was quite colorful, a former middle school teacher, like me, so she conducted the tour with a somewhat firm hand. No talking over her, you should raise your hand with questions, and she used some colorful language, all presented in that distinctive southern-Kentucky drawl. I’ll say this about her; the lady knew her moonshine!
The science behind fermenting simple ingredients was rather fascinating. Some of their offerings are put through the distilling process more than 10 times. The barrel room was the same room used hundreds of years ago! And the fact that a huge profit is made from the after-market sale of the used barrels to places all over the world!
As all good tours go, the tour concluded with a tasting. Now that I am not drinking, (and haven’t in eleven months) I hung around the water cooler while Gary got a lesson in how to properly taste three different bourbons. By holding one nostril and smelling first, then sipping, each bourbon hit your tongue in a unique way.
Another cool factoid was that bourbon sales dramatically dipped in the 1980’s, when yuppies decided that Alabama Slammers, Sea Breezes, and Cosmopolitans were much hipper than drinking bourbons or scotch, which they viewed as Grandpa-sitting-on-the-porch-smoking-a-cigar kind of drinks.
Funny how things change and come full circle! So, Grandpa Gary and I drove back to our farm site. He’ll have to wait until we get back to Naples in a few weeks to sit on our porch with a stogie and a nice bourbon in hand.