#Grain and Barrel Spirits

[bourbontrend]

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[techdriveplay]

The Rise of Australian Whisky

George Bekarian, Head Mixologist at Cardea & Spirit Specialist for Barrel Lane Whisky Club As the head mixologist at Cardea and spirit specialist for Barrel Lane Whisky Club, I’ve witnessed the evolution of Australian whisky firsthand. It’s a journey that spans centuries, shaped by rich history, innovation, and a relentless pursuit of excellence. When we talk about Australian whisky, we can’t…

[bullet-prooflove]

Whiskey Business: Bill Bevilaqua x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @lazilynervoussong @moisttowlett @happilysparklyunknown @krispyqueenluminary

Companion piece to: Trust

You’re already at Whiskey Business when Bill arrives. The private distillery is located thirty minutes away from Bill’s ranch and specialises in single malt. All of their whiskey is distilled in five gallon barrels and sold in limited runs making it Kansas City’s most sought after spirit. Their tastings are usually booked up months in advance but here Bill is, stepping over the threshold to spend the evening with a woman who is more stunning than every single one of those stars in the night time sky.

His eyes come to rest on you, standing there talking to one of the hosts and the sight of you it just steals his breath. Your hair is pulled back into a half up half down style, you’re wearing a pretty blue floral country dress and brown cowboy boots. He’s not used to seeing this version of you, the one that’s so casual, so relaxed.

Your face lights up when you see him and something in his chest aches. It’s been a long time since anyone has looked at him like that and it isn’t until now he realises just how much he misses it.

“Bill.” You say, clasping his hands in yours before you kiss his cheek.

His heart thuds a little harder in his chest as you lead him towards your table, his hand still clasped in yours. It feels dainty inside his larger one and he finds his thumb tracing over the tattoo of a geometric lotus blossom on your inner wrist.

“You look beautiful tonight.” He tells you and a flush of colour appears across your cheeks.

“I was worried you’d think I wasn’t making an effort.” You tell him referring to the clothes and the makeup you usually adorn for your profession. “But I wanted you to see the real me, the one that wears summer dresses and likes whiskey brewed from a barrel that’s older than her.”

“I like her already.” He tells you, squeezing your hand lightly.

You spend the night sipping whiskey, comparing notes, exchanging opinions as you mark your scores down on your phone so you can keep track of your favourites. Bill learns that you used to be a debutant before you started this career, that your father disowned you when you refused to marry a man twice your age to help advance his business.

“Is that when it started?” He asks you. “With Bobby D’Amico?”

“Yea.” You say, swirling around the tasting scotch. “He was the photographer who took the debutant portraits, he was always trying to get into the girls pants, give them molly. He said I could make some money modelling, it’s an age old story I won’t bore you with.”

“You don’t bore me Julia.” He says quietly, his dark eyes meeting yours. “You’ve never bored me. If you want to tell me then I want to listen.”

So you tell him, you tell him every sordid detail and by the end of it Bill knows he’s going to murder Bobby D’Amico for turning you out the way he did.

“The other night it became clear that you trust me with a lot of personal shit, stuff I don’t think you tell anyone.” You say, toying with the silver rings on his left hand. “I thought maybe it was time I do the same.”

“Your secrets are my secrets.” He tells you, bringing your fingertips to his lips and kissing the pads of them. “I’ll take them to my grave.”

He means that, you can tell from the fierceness in his eyes as he says it.

At the end of the night you’re both a little drunk, not just from the whiskey but from each other. Bill tucks his arm around your shoulders as you lean into him, hiding your face in his shirt because you can’t control your laughter. It continues long after the two of you climb into the backseat of his car, until his driver pulls up outside the address you gave him.

Your house is a classic Edwardian build that would look more at home in San Fransico than here in Kansas City. Every other place on this block falls into the Shirtwaist standard of architecture but you’ve gone completely against the grain by removing the steep gabled roofed porch so you can expand outwards with a bay window instead. The outside is painted a light grey, the windows and frame work contrasting with white.

“My neighbours fucking hate it.” You tell him as you unfasten your seat belt. “I’ve owned it for five years now and I’m still in love with it.”

He can understand why, this place it’s entirely you. Sophisticated, chique, brazen.

He undoes his own seatbelt as you search for your keys inside your purse, opening your door for you and helping you out of the vehicle. He escorts you up the path until you reach the doorstep.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask, your eyes bright as you look up at him and in that moment he’d like nothing more than to continue this evening well into the early hours of the morning.

“Next time.” He promises you, his thumb chasing over the apple of your cheek. “When the two of us haven’t been drinking so much.”

“Your momma raised a gentlemen.” You tease as your fingertips toy with lapels of his blazer.

Not much of one, he thinks as he leans in and kisses you because that mouth of yours, it’s just too inviting. You taste like whiskey from the distillery, smoky overtones with a dash of honey. Your lips are soft under his, warm like a summer’s day and just as sweet. He pulls away unwillingly, his large hands coming to rest on your hips, thumbs tracing over the fabric of your dress.

“Get on inside now.” He whispers as he releases you, inclining his head towards the door. He waits until you’ve unlocked it and are safely over the threshold before he tips his hat.

“Good night Julia.” He says softly.

“Sweet dreams Bill.”

Love Bill? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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[mariacallous]

When you think of Jewish alcohol, Manischewitz (for better or worse) probably comes to mind. But slivovitz — a liquor with a forceful flavor and formidable strength — is arguably the Hebrew hooch. 

Slivovitz, whose name is derived from the slavic word sliv for “damson plum,” is made by fermenting plums, distilling the mash to 80-100 proof alcohol, then aging the resulting liqueur for up to 10 years in oak barrels. Slivovitz is largely produced in Central and Eastern Europe, where different countries create their own variants. In the Czech Republic, for example, slivovitz (in Czech, slivovice) is considered the national drink of the region of Moravia and is served at room temperature in small shot glasses known as a panák. In Bulgaria, slivovitz holds special religious importance having been distilled for nearly seven centuries by members of Troyan Monastery. The monks’ special blend is made from Madzharkini plums, a variety that grows only in the Troyan region and is distinctive for its easily extracted pits.

Although grains are introduced during some forms of the slivovitz fermentation process, some distillers decided to forgo this step as a means of ensuring the liqueur was kosher. This gesture rendered slivovitz initially attractive to Jews during Passover, specifically Seder dinners that traditionally called for the consumption of up to four glasses of wine. Unfortunately, local wines were often made alongside other spirits under non-kosher conditions and thus were unacceptable. And because, as Dr. Glenn Dynner, professor of Jewish studies at Sarah Lawrence College, points out, imported kosher wine was often prohibitively expensive and of limited availability, Jews gravitated toward slivovitz on such celebratory occasions. 

But its kashrut status alone is an insufficient reason why slivovitz is considered particularly, or even especially, Jewish. According to University of Pittsburgh professor and slivovitz historian, Dr. Martin Votruba, “Jews would acquire this local drink after moving into European kingdoms. They would simply pick it up as part of the culture.” It seems, however, their relationship with slivovitz became more purposeful during the 1800s in what is now Poland. Because they were considered relatively temperate compared to their countrymen, Jews were charged with operating drinking halls and taverns, and thus began to monopolize the liquor business, much of which revolved around slivovitz. 

Another explanation as to why slivovitz holds a special place in the Jewish cultural imaginary is its strong anecdotal association with Jewish men of an older generation. In the 1990 film “Avalon,” which chronicles the trials and tribulations of a Polish Jewish immigrant family at the turn of the 20th century, brothers Sam and Gabriel reminisce about their father: 

“He never drank water. And oh, boy, could he drink! What was that stuff called he always used to drink?’ ‘Slivovitz. Slivovitz. He used to call it, ‘Block and fall.’ You have one drink of that, you walk one block and you fall!” 

Similarly, food writer Jordan Hoffman recalls his father describing how a swig of slivovitz (which they called ‘Shleeve-O-Wits’) by Hoffman’s grandfather signaled the breaking the Yom Kippur fast: 

“… they’d peer out of the apartment window, waiting to spot him walking back from the synagogue. He’d take his sweet time, pull off his coat and hat, open a rarely used cabinet, blow the dust off an old bottle, take a sip of something, make a face, then announce that everyone could eat.”

As evinced by both accounts, slivovitz is not for the faint of heart and for some years, the caustic, bitter spirit fell out of favor. There are signs that slivovitz is slowly becoming back en vogue: restaurants, including New York’s renowned Kafana, serve slivovitz and a handful of distillers, such as Stone Barn Brandy Works, are producing their own new-fangled versions. And fans of the enormously popular series “Homeland” will attest that it’s the drink of choice for the character of Senator Andrew Lockhart.  

Slivovitz’ nostalgic appeal combined with the introduction of new, more palatable varieties means it has some real so-old-school-it’s-cool potential. And who knows — the coming year may have us all slugging slivovitz slingers rather than espresso martinis.

[longlistshort]

There’s an unsettling tension in the room that houses Mel Chin’s installation Spirit (1994), at the Columbus Museum of Art. Is the rope strong enough to support the barrel? What will be its breaking point?

Some details from the museum about the work-

The rope that seems to carry the weight of Spirit’s enormous cask is made from tallgrass. This native plant was once central to a vast prairie ecosystem spanning over 170 million acres of North America. By 1930, most all of this was decimated as a result of agricultural and industrial settlement, and what remains is protected habitat (Chin received special permission to harvest a portion for this sculpture).

Wooden barrels are traditionally used to measure and transport dry goods like grain, beans, as well as beer, oil and wine, and were central to the process of European settlement and trade in North America. Here, the image of this rope bearing such a massive weight suggests the precarious status of nature in a world of outsized human development. Even the gallery walls, which curve inwards on all sides, seem to respond to the strain.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

𓅨 Fortuna: Chapter Nine

Fortuna: Born with what seemed to be the worst luck in the world, you have managed to get into, and out of, life-threatening situations all your life. That is until the plague of 1514. You had escaped Mother Death countless times before, but not this time. Mother Death has taken a liking to you, and with your kindling relationship, you become that which historians whisper about. You are the great Fortuna, Goddess Incarnate of luck, and ruler over fortune and fate. No one could have anticipated what your ties with Death would bring you: Pain. Torture. Death. Love.

Warnings: Great Escape, A Nun Who is Actually Nice in This Story (For Once).

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x ImmortalSpanish!Reader, Reader’s nickname is Fortuna. Fortuna is the Roman Goddess of personified luck and ruler over fortune and fate.

Word Count: ~2.3k

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August 2022

The wagon you were hidden in rattled and shook as it made its way down the path that connected the convent and the village. You were tucked between some barrels of pottery and several bags full of grain that was headed to the market in the village square. It hadn’t been hard for you to fold yourself and squeeze into the tight space, after over a hundred years of malnourishment and lack of food, you were skin and bones. It had taken some work to sneak past the inspector at the gates of the convent, but you were well hidden and the nuns had long since thought your spirit broken. No, that was not entirely true. There was a part of you that had been broken in your lone captivity. You were a hollowed form of your once proud and fiery figure. 

Fortuna, Goddess Incarnate, had been all but snuffed out, with only a few flickers of flames left to show your existence. 

But then Tajana happened. Tajana was a Slovenian native who had just joined the convent. She had been warned of you, but since she hadn’t grown up listening to the poisonous whispers of the sisters and nuns, she was more open to getting to know you. One of the first things she had learned was that you were not possessed by the devil and your treatment within the convent had long since been inhumane. You could still picture her horrified face the moment she had seen the scars on your body from your forced penance. You had never seen someone throw up so violently, not even during your time as a nurse in the last world war. For the first time since arriving you had made a friend, and then an accomplice. 

It had taken some time, over two years in fact, but with some ‘accidental’ paper mixups, Tajana had gotten you authorization to be transferred to a monastery in England. You had an out from the Convent that had been your prison for 95 years. You just had to make it to the ferry leaving at exactly seven o’clock. The boat from Piran to Venice only made one trip per week, and you doubted you would get another chance to escape the convent if caught. The wagon rattled and shook some more, pressing your emaciated body and causing you more discomfort. At this point, you were almost dulled to the pain. You gripped your knees harder and whispered a few prayers to Death that this would all be worth it. You already had a destination in mind should your plan succeed. Track down a man named Hob Gadling. He shared your immortality but was associated with your beloved dream. If anyone could help you, it was him. 

Your instincts were begging you to hunt down Morpheus first, free him from his prison, and promise to never part his side again… but after so many years of abuse and injury, you were terrified to see his reaction to your body. You didn’t feel worthy of being his Tyche, far from it. You felt abused and soiled, beaten and broken, hardly the depiction of the great Goddess of Fortune. So you were going to find someone who understood your predicament yet held no bias since he had yet to meet you, and you hoped he would help. You were in a state of in-between when the wagon finally came to a shaky stop in a back alley, and Tajana hurried down from the driver's seat. She was quick to pull up the tarp covering you, her eyes bright with life and adrenaline. 

“Come, the boat departs in twenty minutes.” She ushered, holding her hand out to you. You took it and shimmied yourself out of your hiding place. Your body ached and hurt as scabs cracked against your movement, but you paid them little mind. Determination was set. While you got your legs back under you, Tajana double-checked that you had everything you would need to make your long journey. Your papers, the passport, and several other items any normal traveler would be carrying, it was all loaded into a messenger bag and carefully placed over your shoulder. “Text me when you arrive at each checkpoint, okay?” 

“You know if the Abbess catches you with that phone you’ll get beaten,” You reminded her with a hoarse voice. Tajana shrugged her shoulders. 

“That ninny doesn’t even know what a cellphone looks like, I’ll be fine.” Before you turned to join the line of people boarding the boat, you caught Tajana’s hand and gave her a blessing of luck. It was the least you could do to protect her from the monsters that had held you captive. 

The boat ride to Venice had been fine, but moving through the airport to catch your flight to London had been terrifying. You hadn’t been around this many people in so long and you couldn’t stop the flinches that came from you every time someone moved a little too fast or yelled a little too loud. When had you turned into a scared little rabbit? You hated yourself for jumping so much. At least the woman you had been sitting next to was kind and had quickly figured out that this was your first time flying, not to mention you were dressed in Tajana’s clothes. The religious habit was seriously going to have to go the moment you landed on English soil. Tajana had been nice enough to pack you a set of clothes to change into, but you desperately needed something to cover your mutilated hair. You were lucky to find a plain black knitted cap in one of the gift shops, you could hide the patchy hack job on your head that way. So after changing out of the habit into jeans and a shirt that was far too big for you, pulling on an old faded sweater, and covering your head with the black knitted cap, you gleefully shoved the religious wear into the trash. A pity you couldn’t burn it.

A part of you was waiting for someone to jump out of the shadows and drag you back to the convent. But it never happened and you found yourself staring at the doors to a building with a sign overhead stating: The New Inn. This had to be the place, and you once again felt jitters of terror. What if he didn’t help you? What if you had traveled all this way for nothing? What if, after 95 years of being gone, Morpheus didn’t want you anymore? Your nails dug into your rough palms and you cursed under your breath. Find Hob Gadling. Get your life back together. Morpheus could never see you like this. Not this broken down. 

You pushed open the door and stepped inside the bar, your eyes darting around nervously. Stepping forward, you approached the bar where a man was shelving glasses for the night rush. He glanced at you, then went back to shelving. 

“Can I help you? You don’t look like you’ve come for a pint, mum,” He stated, never once ceasing the shelving. You were rather impressed at the speed and precision he worked. You blinked and cleared your throat, twisting your hands in front of you. 

“I’m looking for someone I was told could be found here,” You replied, trying not to get your hopes up but internally praying that you weren’t on a wild goose chase. The bartender grunted and looked at you once more. 

“And that’d be?” You adjusted the strap of your messenger bag. 

“Hob Gadling?” You didn’t know what to expect when you stated the name, but it wasn’t an eyebrow raise and a frown. 

“You talking about the Professor? He’s in the back if ya need to talk to him.” The bartender turn to look over his shoulder and bellowed for someone named ‘Robert’. You flinched at the volume of his voice and clenched your fists around the strap of your bag. 

“You know I can hear you just fine without you shouting at the top of your lungs, Nathan,” Someone said as they emerged from the back of the bar. The bartender, Nathan, jerked his thumb at you. 

“Got someone asking for a ‘Hob Gadling’, you know 'em?” Soft brown eyes settled on you. You could already tell that this was the Hob Gadling you were looking for, you could feel it, but you weren’t expecting to see such a gentle soul within him. He was handsome, just as Morpheus was, but rather than a godlike beauty, Hob contained a soft beauty, one of comfort. 

“Depends on who’s asking,” Hob questioned, his eyes lingering on your haggard appearance and hollowed face. You look like how he had his second century of living, starving, and malnourished. Hob also could see the glimmer of fear within your eyes, like one wrong move and you would spook. Something had made you fragile, breakable even. You swallowed thickly and prayed that he had heard of you before. Of your story of immortality.

“Fortuna,” Your voice was incredibly soft and mild, but to Hob, it was like a crescendo of thunder. Oh, he knew you, he knew you quite well. Hob had never met you, but the stories he had heard of you had lasted centuries and were even alive today. Never mind the fact that Hob’s dearest and oldest friend was currently looking for you with the desperation of a man starved of the sun for millennia. 

“I was wondering when you would make your way here,” Hob responded, watching as your eyes relax in complete and utter relief… but now you looked moments away from crying. “Care for a cup of tea upstairs? I have a feeling that we have a lot to talk about, Fortuna.” 

Hob eyed you sitting in his flat above the bar as he fixed you a cup of tea. While relief was in your eyes, you were shaking like a leaf and had clear signs of abuse. He dreaded finding out what you were hiding beneath the ill-fitting and baggy clothes you wore. Hob also had another conundrum on his hands, Morpheus was desperately looking for you, but you had come to him rather than search for your lover. You had something you wanted to be hidden from the Endless. With the tea brewed, Hob picked up the two cups and carried them over to the dining table you were sitting silently at. He set the tea down in front of you gently and sat down adjacent to you. 

“Is he out?” You asked, your eyes training on the tea in front of you. Hob licked his lower lip before pressing them together. 

“Yes,” Hob answered, running a few fingers along the rim of his tea. “It is my understanding that it was only a recent development.” He didn’t miss the way your eye twitched. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, since you look like you’ve been dealing with your troubles, but I do think you deserve to know that he is looking for you.” Hob didn’t miss the way you quivered.

“Do you— Is he well?” Hob’s eyebrow arched for a moment and he cocked his head. 

“I’d say so, a little less broody than he was in 1889, actually smiled, has a new raven named Matthew,” He pointed out, listing off all the things Hob had noticed in the meeting. You felt a pang in your heart at the mention of Morpheus’s smile. What you would give to see it again, and he had taken a new raven? It surprised you because, after Jessamy’s death, he had sworn he would never put another at risk. “Fortuna, do you want to be found?” You chose to sip tea rather than answer his question. Hob understood the complexity of your silence. 

It had taken a lot of gentle coaxing and insistence on Hob’s part to convince you to stay at his flat for the time being. You hadn’t wanted to impose, but he had insisted, knowing how hard it was for an immortal to survive with nothing. Hob was in the middle of retrieving some spare clothing to change into after you cleaned up in the bathroom when he heard a crashing sound from behind the bathroom door. You had fallen. Dropping the sweatpants and shirt he held, Hob rushed over to the door and pressed his hand against it. 

“Fortuna?”

“I tripped,” You responded, your voice devoid of emotion. A clear lie. Given the way you walked, well, limped, Hob could only imagine the horrors that presently marred your body. 

“On the rug? I do that all the time, you need help figuring out how to work the shower? I’m sure things have changed since 1916…” You would bless the immortal man with eternal fortune and glory for not calling you out. From where you were holding onto the sink, your knees folded awkwardly beneath you, your lips trembled and you closed your burning eyes. You wanted to retain your pride, your dignity, your secrets, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to properly care for yourself in the state you were in. 

“…yes, I think I do.” You said, your fingers digging into smooth stone. 

“Are you sure?” Your teeth sunk into your lower lip and your shoulders dropped. 

“I’m sure.” At your whispered words, Hob eased the bathroom door open and stepped inside. You were on your knees in front of the sink, clinging to the bathroom counter. The black knitted cap was gone, revealing your hair which looked like it had been hacked off with a dull knife, sticking every which way and very uneven. He was silent as he wrapped his arms around your boney body and carefully brought you to your feet. Then he made you sit on the toilet so you wouldn’t fall again. “I can feel your curiosity, ask your questions.” 

Hob snorted. “I’m not going to be insensitive. If you are comfortable telling me, you will. If not, that’s okay. I haven’t gotten to my age without learning how to read people.” 

Date Published: 12/25/22

Last Edit: 12/25/22

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[rabbitcruiser]

National Bourbon Day 

Nobody really needs a good excuse to enjoy the odd tipple, but National Bourbon Day gives anyone the perfect reason to dust off a bottle of this fine whiskey and have a glass or two!

Those who are less steeped in the culture of alcoholic beverages may not know the difference between bourbon and whiskey, which is certainly okay! This is the perfect day to learn. National Bourbon Day has been set aside as a day to learn about and appreciate this fine liquor which some people refer to as the “Spirit of America”.

It’s time to celebrate this American ‘Native Spirit’!

History of National Bourbon Day

Legend has it that the date on which National Bourbon Day is celebrated is the anniversary of the very first time this famous drink was distilled, way back in the late 1700s. It may only be a legend but, whatever the truth of this is, National Bourbon Day is surely a day worth celebrating.

Bourbon is a specific category of American whiskey, which is made from a mash that is primarily corn based–at least 51% must be corn in order for it to be classified as bourbon. Other grains in the mash typically include malted barley, rye or wheat.

The mash is then distilled, then aged for at least two years in barrels that are new charred oak barrels, in order to be “straight bourbon whiskey”. Many bourbons are aged longer than 2 years. In fact, one labelling rule states that any bourbon aged for less than 4 years must state as much on the label.

This is a very strong liquor. The corn mash to make the bourbon starts out at 80% alcohol and, through the aging process as well as filtering and bottling processes, the final product can be no less than 40% alcohol by volume.

Bourbon definitely originated in the US state of Kentucky, sometime in the 1700s, before it even had acquired its official name. The name seems to be a nod to the French Bourbon Dynasty, and possibly was in honor of Bourbon County, an area of Kentucky that was known for its corn growing.

While some people think that bourbon must be made in Kentucky (like cognac must be made in a certain region of France) that’s not actually true. It simply needs to be distilled and aged in the state in order to be given the special name, “Kentucky Bourbon”.

Even so, most of this drink is still made in Kentucky and folks from that area would claim that it’s definitely the place where the best bourbon comes from. Some Kentuckians even claim that the limestone in the springwater from the area offers this bourbon a flavor distinguished from the rest.

In 1964, the US Congress recognized bourbon as a “distinctive product of the United States”. In fact, many trade agreements require that, to be called bourbon, a whiskey must be made in the USA.

As bourbon whiskey began to grow in popularity, the tourism around this drink began to increase in Kentucky. At one point, to keep up with demand, some companies were planning to reduce the alcohol content of their products, but backlash from customers forced them to reverse their decision. Some companies have limited their supplies overseas to keep up with demands in the US. That means that Kentucky still probably is the best place to get bourbon!

While it is true that all bourbons are whiskey, not all whiskeys are bourbon. And National Bourbon Day is certainly the best day to find out more about this tasty beverage and enjoy a glass as well.

How to Celebrate National Bourbon Day

Celebrating National Bourbon Day is filled with fun, enjoyment and, of course, access to different bourbons of the world! Try these celebratory ideas for enjoying the day:

Try a Different Kind of Bourbon

Those who are new on the scene, welcome! It’s time to try bourbon of any variety. For those who are enthusiasts and aficionados, National Bourbon Day is the perfect time to try a new brand, flavor or vintage of this special whiskey.

Knob’s Creek. Whether choosing the 9-year, or the more sought-after 15-year, this brand is well known for its small batch varieties that everyone seems to love.

Evan Williams Black Label. A great taste for a newcomer, this affordable brand brings 86 proof whiskey that is aged more than 5 years.

Jim Beam’s Old Grandad. Mid-range price and 114 proof is super spicy and appreciated by those who want to avoid the “hype” of fancier brands.

Join a National Bourbon Day Event

There are plenty of events and options for whiskey lovers and their friends (even those who don’t know much about whiskey) to get in the swing of things and enjoy this special day. Hotels and restaurants often enter into the spirit of the occasion by organizing a dinner in honor of Bourbon.

Hop on the National Bourbon Day website for more information and events.

Visit the Bourbon Capital of the World

Bardstown, Kentucky has been hailed by some to be the “Bourbon Capital of the World”. Because of this, it may just be the perfect place to visit for a National Bourbon Day celebration. With at least 10 different distilleries in the area, Bardstown offers an eclectic array of bourbon options, including: Bardstown Bourbon Company, Maker’s Mark Distillery, Jim Beam American Stillhouse ahd Heaven Hill Distillery.

National Bourbon Day events typically last over two or three days, hosting tastings, demonstrations, and expert discussions. While in town, don’t forget to stop by the Oscar Getz Museum of Whisky History, which is a special place for bourbon enthusiasts.

Those who can’t make it to Kentucky but want to join in from home can access the National Bourbon Day video library for recorded and virtual events.

Try Some New Bourbon Cocktail Recipes

A great idea for celebrating the day is to entertain family and friends by trying out some old or new Bourbon cocktail recipes.

Bourbon Old Fashioned. A classic, of course, but always amazing. This drink includes bourbon, bitters, water, sugar, and a garnish of orange peel.

Bourbon Mint Julep. Another Kentucky favorite known for its attachment to the horse race, the Kentucky Derby, this refreshing drink simply calls for simple syrup, mint sprigs, bourbon and crushed ice.

Bourbon Manhattan. Named after the city that never sleeps, this iconic American drink just begs to make with America’s Native Spirit! Mix bourbon whiskey, sweet vermouth and bitters. Garnish with a maraschino cherry and orange peel.

Bourbon Sidecar. Normally made with cognac, this American-ized version of the drink is just as tasty. Shake together bourbon, triple sec and lemon juice with ice. Garnish with an orange twist.

No matter what the plans are for the day, it’s easy to add a little splash of whiskey to an evening meal to make National Bourbon Day a night to remember!

Source

[taleof2cities-itsus]

so I legit forgot how obsessed I am with these lyrics: what’s your favorite??? Lmk 😉

Look Self-awareness, pride's a coat, and yes, I like to wear it Buttoned up, don't like to let no air in With a pair of gloves that I hope doesn't perish I discovered, though, when I get holes in them And I let joy in, I'm in higher spirits My mistakes are like a screamin' parrot Just repeating lyrics, I can barely bear it when I'm lost

Road is narrow, I'm lookin' down it like a gun's barrel Aren't we all searchin' for the serum That could help us breathe and leave our state of peril? All of us have made defensive scarecrows That we scatter 'round our fields and treat like heroes When they scare away the things that we should cherish 'Cause we're too embarrassed to admit the fear is that we're lost

Yeah, but what does it matter? I get so combative Inside of me's a personal canvas, the paint can be splattered Get messy when I start to get rattled The heart of a savage, I'm quiet when I lurk in the shadows But somethin' don't add up, I don't wanna be overdramatic But look at the data, it's obvious that humans are fragile We tend to get mad at the ones that call us out But the fact is we need someone that'll be honest when we fly off the handle

I admit I throw a fit when I begin to unravel Keep my wits, been off the grid but now I'm back in the saddle My intent is not to rent, I like to own what I value I could sit here on the fence or maybe pick up the paddle I like to row against the current, that's the way that I travel Opposite of what the grain does, got the brain of a rebel Take initiative, I'm diligent on every level I never could settle, I like to keep my foot on the pedal, yeah

I'd love to pack arenas and all But what I really wanna do is learn to handle my thoughts And put the reins on 'em, show 'em I'm the one that's the boss And pull 'em back when they get out of hand, I'm breakin' they jaws I'm takin' the flaws that told me I could never evolve Then pull a Bane on 'em, ask 'em, "Oh, you think you're in charge?" You oughta know better, ain't no way around it, I'm flawed The traits that I want, they say I can't afford what it cost

But I (I), manifested this Failing's how you grow and learn your lessons, kids Take the worst and try to make the best of it 'Cause when you fail, just know that it's a test and if You can learn to pick yourself back up again And train your brain to not be such a pessimist It's okay to make mistakes, just don't forget that There's a high road but I skip the exit when I'm lost

Yeah When I'm lost When I'm lost (lost) When I'm lost When I'm lost (lost), lost

Wow, these burdens are heavy And I'm hopin' it don't bury me I used to be joyful and skip so merrily But now I'm too cautious and tip toe carefully My mind left and it's nowhere to be found Am I a big old parody? 'Cause it's no fair to me And now I'm at the point where I'm spending a grand a week on hypnotherapy

Look, I'm tryna wash away my sins I got a group of loved ones that ain't my friends And if I ever take an L, then they might grin And they all wanna see me stay in the cage I'm in So when it comes to anybody, there's no trust for no one Man, so what? My whole plan's to go nuts My shoulders ready for more shrugs, I'm gon' judge Anybody tryna enter my circle with no love (hold up)

My sanity's gone, I'd rather be torn from this planet they planted me on Yes, that's a reward, I'm actually bored with having a sore heart It's torn apart from a family that I don't have anymore (now hol' up) I was livin' so oblivious with millions, it really was a pity, huh? (A pity, huh?) It's kinda funny what a penny does, mixed in with a mini buzz (I feel stuck)

Life's got me by the neck, with a blade against it (what?) 'Cause I was runnin' late for the train and missed it (what?) The only thing I feel is pain and vengeance (what?) So I'ma act out like a raging misfit (what?) And every verse I lay gon' stay sadistic (yeah) You wanna hate me? Good, great, terrific (good) You'll never see the day where my anger's dismissed You better go and change your wishlist 'cause I

Yeah, manifested this Do not treat me like some adolescent kid I am praying to the Lord with the book of James Hopin' he gon' add my testament This dark cloud, that's my residence Demons knockin', I don't have to let 'em in I done made mistakes, day to day, you probably can't relate I just ain't the same when I'm lost

Yeah When I'm lost (when I'm, yeah) When I'm lost (lost) When I'm lost When I'm lost (lost), lost

[wellthatschaotic]

:)

Transcript:

Oh hey! you're new in town, aren't ya? Well, welcome to Wolfsong! I'm Todd, I run the place. Haven't seen a human around here in…centuries, it's gotta be! There used to be humans here, but they all kinda left. Found better places to live I guess. Left behind a few of their buildings- including this one, actually! Of course, I've improved it since then. Inherited from my father. He's passed now- heart attack- but he was a great guy. Never thought to make the doorways taller, though! Everyone always bumps their head!

Speaking of doorways and humans, the creepiest thing they left behind in my opinion is a weird doorway in the cave tunnels. The doorway's pretty small and no one's been able to crack the lock, and some people say there's ghosts and evil spirits back there! Oh, well! We don't need to dwell on weird superstitions.

I know this guy, clay, who's SUPER superstitious. Believes in all the things, walking under ladders, breaking mirrors, cutting the birthday cake before the birthday person's had their slice. Really sweet guy though. I think he's working on writing a book.

You guys have superstitions like that too? Well, i guess we can't be that different after all! Despite our town being human-free as far as the eye can see! Well, except for you, of course.

Yeah, clay says keeping his grain next to his salt makes it last longer. He swears by it. His pantry's a mess, I don't know how he ever gets food made. It started a while ago, his grain kept going missing no matter what he seemed to do about it. I asked him if he just used more than he thought, but he insisted that he was keeping good track of it, but it just disappeared. Said it couldn't be mice, either, on accounta no dung. He started getting paranoid and putting it in unmarked containers and things, next to sand and salt and other inedible things. Overreacting in my opinion, but at least he's stopped accusing people of thievery. Other folks have started to try this salt trick, like some kind of mass hysteria. I've never had a problem with grain myself, nor have those folks over there I think. Never even seen them keep salt, but they have plenty of grain. All this talk of grain reminds me, I better roll another barrel out from the back, and start another batch of rolls! But I had a great time chatting with you, Listener, be safe out there and I hope to see you again!

[goodspiritsnewsat]

GSN Review: Black Button Distilling + Fee Brothers Citrus Forward Gin barrel aged Citrus Bitters

Black Button Distilling, the first grain-to-glass craft spirits producer in Rochester, N.Y. since prohibition, has partnered with Rochester-based Fee Brothers, Inc. for their first ever commissioned distillery collaboration: Black Button Distilling Fee Brothers Citrus Forward Gin barrel aged Citrus Bitters. To celebrate this historic partnership, Black Button Distilling and Fee Brothers will…

[nwbeerguide]

Supporting regional ingredient producers, Alesong Brewing & Blending release five new beers this May.

image courtesy Alesong Brewing and Blending

Press Release

Eugene’s Alesong Brewing & Blending is releasing five new barrel-aged blends on May 5th, kicking off the spring with their second major release of the new year. This release features new versions of some Alesong favorites and a few brand-new beers:  

Mocha Rhino Suit: Mocha Rhino Suit takes our flagship, bourbon-barrel-aged imperial milk stout and gives it a heavy dose of Colombian coffee and cocoa nibs from the local artisans at Coffee Plant Roasters and Chocolate Alchemy, taking an already decadent and chocolatey beer to new heights of deliciousness. 

Valley Preserves: An ode to the bounty of Willamette Valley harvest, Valley Preserves is a refreshing and jammy ale aged on biodynamically grown blueberries from our neighbors at King Estate and Oregon cherries from Hood River. Luscious fruit character explodes from this vibrant magenta-hued beer! 

Stony Point Saison: A rustic, unfiltered farmhouse ale brewed almost entirely with Oregon-grown ingredients: malts from Goschie Farms, grains from Camas Country Mill, hops from Crosby Hops, and honey from our neighbors at Queen's Bounty. Join us as we continue our quest to capture terroir through the lens of beer. 

Beergarden Bramble: Brewed in collaboration with our friends at Beergarden to celebrate Eugene Beer Week, this beer was inspired by a refreshing and spritzy blackberry bramble cocktail and is a blend of sour ales fermented on Oregon-grown blackberries and aged in Old Tom gin barrels from Oregon’s Ransom Spirits.  

Double Barrel Maestro (Club Exclusive): Although Maestro already showcases wonderful barrel character from its year in Heaven Hill barrels, we thought we’d really up the ante with a second round of aging in 10-year Henry Mckenna barrels. What we’re left with is a robust expression of bourbon and barrel character: toffee, vanilla, charcoal, and a mild alcohol warmth to remind you of the scale of this massive barleywine. 

Alesong will host a release party for Blender’s Circle members at their country brewery on the weekend of May 5-7 and the beers will be available for all at Alesong’s downtown tasting room that same weekend. Mocha Rhino Suit and Valley Preserves will also be available at retailers throughout the Pacific Northwest. For more information on Blender’s Circle membership, visit www.alesongbrewing.com/join. More information on all of the new beers can be found at www.alesongbrewing.com/beers. 

ABOUT ALESONG BREWING AND BLENDING: Alesong Brewing and Blending is a small artisan brewery based in the heart of Southern Willamette Valley wine country with a second tasting room in downtown Eugene. The all-barrel-aged brewery crafts unique and small-batch beers, brewing both wild and non-wild styles that span the flavor spectrum. Once the beer in barrels has matured, the team samples and selects each barrel individually to blend. Paying homage to old-world Lambic blenders and artisan winemakers, Alesong believes that the final, balanced blend of a barrel-aged beer is much more complex and satisfying than the sum of its parts or each individual barrel by itself. www.alesongbrewing.com. 

from Northwest Beer Guide - News - The Northwest Beer Guide https://bit.ly/44m4eas

[bourbontrend]

triple quotes Looking for a bourbon that captures the true spirit of Texas? Dive into our latest review of Samuel Maverick Private Reserve Bottled in Bond Bourbon. Discover the rich history, unique flavors, and meticulous craftsmanship behind this exceptional whiskey. Perfect for sipping neat or in cocktails, find out why it's a must-have for bourbon enthusiasts. Check out the full review now!

[benandstevesposts]

The hidden Black history behind how whiskey was created

Iconic whiskey brands like Jack Daniel's can trace their history back to Black men at distilleries, but their names aren't as well known.

This Article is produced and originally reported by Scripps News Staff on February 16, 2023. To Read the complete report; click here.

One familiar story ties bourbon’s creation to the white Baptist preacher Elijah Craig, whose name still graces the bottles of a namesake bourbon brand. But evidence shows that it was actually Black hands that took on much of the work that went into making the now classic spirits long before it was bottled.

"There's the obvious tremendous physical labor that went into it," said Che Ramos, owner of The Black Bourbon Guy. "You had to move large quantities of grain and other non-glamorous jobs. And when we look at many old-timey white gentlemen on the bottles, right... I don't imagine Elijah Craig was out here rolling around barrels himself because in 1789 if you had enough money, why would you do that?"

As the brands of liquor came rolling out, so did the truth. As you will learn by reading this article. Eventually the truth endured and the U.S. Whiskey producers finally admitted what those close to the subject knew all along. The original brew, or more appropriate aged stock, was the result of Black Americans who held powerful positions having recipes and control over the product throughout the years.

This Article was produced and initially reported by Scripps News Staff on February 16, 2023. If you'd like to read the complete report, you can click here.

[varchasspirit]

Whiskey distillers are individuals or businesses that produce whisky, a type of alcoholic spirit made from fermented grains such as barley, corn, rye, or wheat. Mashing, fermenting, distilling, and ageing in oak barrels are all steps in the whisky distillation process. If you are looking for the best whiskey distillers in USA. Connect with Shankar distillers

[manlyspirits]

AUSTRALIAN WHISKY

Manly Spirits Co. in New South Wales is celebrated for its exceptional Australian whisky. Combining traditional craftsmanship with innovative techniques, they produce whisky that reflects the unique character of Australia’s rich landscape. Using premium, locally-sourced grains and pure Australian water, Manly Spirits Co. carefully ages their whisky in select barrels, resulting in a smooth, complex spirit with distinct flavors. Visitors can tour the distillery to witness the meticulous production process and enjoy tastings of their fine whisky. Manly Spirits Co. is dedicated to quality and innovation, making their Australian whisky a true standout in the world of spirits.

[templardom]

God’s Whistleblower

The eyes of the LORD are in every place, keeping watch on the evil and the good. Proverbs 15:3 (ESV)

Wealth is treacherous, and the arrogant are never at rest. They open their mouths as wide as the grave, and like death, they are never satisfied. In their greed they have gathered up many nations and swallowed many peoples. Habakkuk 2:5 (NLT)

Open your mouth for those with no voice, for the cause of all the dispossessed. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and defend the cause of the poor and needy. Proverbs 31:9 (BSB)

I have summoned a drought on the fields and on the mountains, on the grain, new wine, and oil, and on whatever the ground yields, on man and beast, and on all the labor of your hands. Haggai 1:11 (BSB)

Now the Spirit expressly states that in later times some will abandon the faith to follow deceitful spirits and the teachings of demons, influenced by the hypocrisy of liars, whose consciences are seared with a hot iron. 1 Timothy 4:1-2 (BSB)

Wake up! Strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have found your deeds unfinished in the sight of my God. Apocalypse 3:2 (NIV)

Remember, therefore, what you have received and heard; hold it fast, and repent. But if you do not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what time I will come to you. Apocalypse 3:3 (NIV)