My new old kitchen table.
Of all the new stuff I’ve bought for my house, I’m most proud of three things: shutters, a copper string of lights that go around my bourbon, and a flip-cup table.
I’ve also discovered a new passion — thrift-store furniture shopping. That’s where I found my kitchen table and flip-cup table (yes, they’re separate things).
Sweet baby baby Jesus. The Double Double is back!
Just when I thought I had lost all hope for humanity, along comes a little email that turned my grumpy-cat frown upside down. Woodford Reserve is re-releasing the Double Double Oaked. I feel like I’ve double died and gone to heaven!
The legend of the delicious, limited-quantity bourbon goes something like this … Down at the Woodford Distillery in Versailles, Ky. (a gorgeous place to experience if you’ve never been), they were moving around some barrels of Woodford Double Oaked and realized they had found a batch that accidentally sat aging an extra year.
I’m taking creative license here with the story, so don’t quote me on it.
Anyway, the standard Double Oaked is created by taking fully matured Woodford Reserve and putting it into a second new barrel that has been lightly charred but heavily toasted — like a delicious marshmallow. It usually ages in that second barrel for one year.
So when the crew found this batch that had been mingling with toasted marshmallows an extra year, they said what any of us would have: “Let’s open that sucker up and try the juice!”
(That’s what she said.)
Thus, Double Double Oaked was born, and it’s part of the limited-edition Distillery Series. Most bottles can be found at the distillery, and a few you might be able to find around town if you’re lucky. It’s worth the hunt, trust me.
And please let me know if you find any, and I will do the same. I still have some left from the first release in 2015, so tonight I’m going to pour a few ounces and relive the sweet, sweet Double Double.
The Back Door Gunner is like Irish Coffee on steroids.
While today is both National Peanut Brittle Day and National Spouses Day, somehow I missed National Irish Coffee Day yesterday and National Beer Can Appreciation Day on Tuesday.
I think I’m slacking in my duties here.
I prefer a Skittle over brittle, and I can’t even find a date, much less a spouse, so I guess I’ll celebrate the previous two days tonight with a beer and a Gunner at the Back Door.
Favorite signs of the day.
So, how about those women’s marches all over the world on Saturday? I went from total despair to having a glimmer of hope after seeing all the people come out to stand up and be heard — especially Ashley Judd.
I went to the Mighty Kindness gathering in Louisville Saturday afternoon and found a packed Tim Faulkner Gallery full of love, kindness and patchouli. I got more hugs in 15 minutes than I did my entire 2016.
It’s going to be an interesting four years, but at least we know we’re not alone.
My kind of mail.
Today, this gem of a local product found its way to my desk. Called Spider Monkey Spirits, it’s a serrano pepper and ginger-infused agave finished in rye whiskey barrels.
If what I just said confuses you, I’ll break it down. It’s basically a pepper and ginger-infused tequila that is aged for about two months in used rye whiskey barrels. But because it’s only about 60 proof, they’re calling it an “infused agave” instead of just “tequila,” which usually hovers around 80 proof.
I’m writing a larger piece about it for Insider, so don’t tell anyone about it just yet. But just know it’s absolutely delicious — a sippable liquor, or liqueur, with just a hint of burn (from the peppers) and sweet (from the ginger). As someone who only drinks tequila after losing a bet, I was amazed at the flavors in this spirit.
Plus, it’s locally made from two cool local dudes (except for the tequila part, which they get from Mexico, of course). I’ll paste the link here after I write the whole story, so stay tuned … and keep an eye out for Spider Monkey and local bars and liquor stores.
Well. This is an easy one.
I think we all have a reason to drink today.
This was me, but with permed hair.
When I was 13, I dreamt of the day I would be all grown up and forever leave behind acne and awkwardness. Those ailments would be mere memories that grew smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror as I sped ahead into my 20s and 30s.
Well, here I am at 40, and I’m still awkward as hell and battling pimples on a weekly basis. And now I have a whole new set of problems, like a limp metabolism, a crunching knee and heartburn. Who can I address about this injustice? If I get up to heaven, I’m going to have a book full of notes on this stuff, believe you me.
Beginning with mosquitos. Why are they here? What benefit do they provide? I assume not everything has to chip in for a good cause and be justifiable — because, look! I’m still here. That was a joke, and I believe making people laugh is mostly why I’m here. And I give good foot rubs.
But back to awkwardness. Why can’t I say what I mean succinctly when talking with someone I admire? I stammer and stumble and fumble over words. I misread sentences. I jump to conclusions. I add more explosions to the train wreck I’ve already created.
If I’d just take a deep breath, analyze the situation and then respond, I think I’d have much more success than saying the first thing that pops into my mind, which is usually fueled by fear and irrational thinking.
It’s never too late to change behaviors. So while I can’t change the past, I can work hard like Pepto to correct this diarrhea of the mouth and vomiting of emotion.
Until then, bourbon.
Gimme s’more!
Holy moly, sugar fiends. Nothing will fuck up a diet faster than a pitstop at the new Hi-Five Doughnuts on Main Street. With the option to build-your-own confection or just grab one already made up, the menu is mind boggling.
Of course I had my reporter hat on and was on assignment, so diet be damned. I tried a s’more doughnut and built my own with peanut butter frosting and mini chocolate chips. After a bite of each, my body was quivering as a sugar surge moved from my head to my toes. And no, I don’t often use the word quiver. It’s kinda like moist. Gross.
Anyway, I need to write a longer piece today on the shop, but you should stop by and check it out on your way into work in the morning. Try the s’more … you won’t be disappointed, and the marshmallow stays wet the entire time. OK, that was gross (the sentence, not the marshmallow).
Dennie is the man!
It’s a sad day indeed. I got a message from Monkey Wrench owner Dennie Humphrey this morning saying he was closing his business after 12 successful years. It’ll close after a blowout party on Saturday, April 1.
I have so many memories lingering between those four walls, and even up on the rooftop bar — legendary Halloween bashes, watching Cards games, overindulging on bourbon and grilled cheese, day drinking upstairs, afterwork happy hours with co-workers, making out in the parking lot … the list goes on and on.
Closing time never felt so heartbreaking.
