Bourbon Trail, KY to Nashville! …I Wonder What That Tastes Like?

Good Friday Morning, Chroniclers! You made it! It’s almost here, the weekend. That last cup before you don’t have to answer to an alarm to start the day.

Thursday was a travel day for the crew. We left Georgetown after a visit to the Ark Encounter, two distilleries and some grub at Local Feed, an eatery that you don't wanna miss if you’re ever in Georgetown.

Most of the crew hit the Ark Encounter, I stayed behind as I was a little tired and had been last year. Still, if you haven’t been, I highly suggest it. Most of us are familiar with the story of Noah and the Ark, either anecdotally, or through what you’ve read in the Bible or when you laughed at Bill Cosby’s version. The Ark Encounter is a replica built by a Christian group, with a very interesting and plausible explanation of how it had to be done. It does not disappoint.

Next a trip to Buffalo Trace. Now, Buffalo Trace will claim to be the oldest distillery in the country, and you may be familiar with some of the spirits distilled on the property; Weller, Blanton’s, Buffalo Trace, and for my richie rich friends like Ryan Anthill, Cmdr. McCroc and Dion Gram, Esq who get this shipped to themselves by the barrelful, there’s Pappy Van Winkle.

Personally, I’m not really a brown liquor guy, but McCroc is and you should've seen the smile on his face when we arrived. I mean he kicked his heels up so high, we spent the first fifteen minutes of our tour in search of the bourbon bottle shaped charms that popped off his Crocs.

Have any of you heard of Freddie’s Root Beer? I hadn’t. It’s local stuff, and it’s tasty. After 3 different bourbons, Elisa, our guide, offered us dessert. Buffalo Trace Bourbon Cream and Freddie’s. An adult root beer float. Ummm, scary good. If you aren’t careful with that one, you could wake up on a friend's couch wondering what happened.

After a tasting and a trip to the Buffalo Trace gift shop, we rolled out to Bourbon 30, a local distillery that McCroc and I hit up last year. We got reacquainted with Pops and McCroc learned a very valuable lesson from last year. He made sure that he bought more. After our last trip, he ran out of Bourbon 30 and you just can’t get it in McCroc-ville. And there are only a half dozen states they’re allowed to ship to, the closest being Delaware. She hit us up with some knowledge and some tasting of more brown liquor. We left with our hands full of Bourbon 30 swag and a few bottles. Hopefully this time, McCroc will savor instead of gulp.

Then we sauntered down the street to Local Feed. McCroc and I retraced some of our footsteps we’d made last year with the HB & Mrs. McCroc, and this restaurant was definitely on the must-do list. We were a little early for our reservation, so we sidled up to the bar where Adam, the bartender, fixed us up with some creative libations. He was fascinating. His knowledge of spirits was inspiring. The drinks were delicious, the banter was better. The Professor gave the Old Fashioned that he prepared for him two snaps in a Z-formation!

After drinks, we moved to the dining room for food. The food was extremely appetizing on our last trip, so we thought the crew might enjoy the vittles there too. It surpassed our expectations, it was mouthwateringly good! It was suggested that we try the ham chop and meatloaf. The HB and the Professor tried the ham chop, while Yoko Uno and I ordered the meatloaf. The food was so good! The portions were so large that we all had to ask for doggie bags! Taylor, our server, had the nerve to ask if we had room for dessert! We were all so stuffed that we had to regretfully decline. The wheelbarrows by the door are to help patrons back to their cars after their meal.

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Two hundred fifty miles of bad roads to Nashville. Luckily we all have satellite radio in the rigs, and coincidentally all are usually tuned to “the Groove” (unless I have one of my podcasts on — unluckily, Dr. Francois feels he has to serenade us when he hears one of his favorite tunes from the 80s. I will take this opportunity to turn down the GMRS and turn up XM, because I prefer the original version. I can only hope that Samantha Stevens has enough cotton for her ears and Stephanie’s too.

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We made it to Nashville and initially, I was worried about the spot Samantha Stevens had picked for us to stay. I mean, c’mon! You have to admit her track record is a little spotty with the 5-day stay in a grassy field, with NO electricity, sewer, or water, right? You feel me, doncha? Well, let me be the first to admit that she has redeemed herself after this stop. This place is gorgeous! We took a straw vote and we’re all staying here for the rest of the trip. Mrs. McCroc has asked anyone who decides to go home to stop by the post office and have all of her mail forwarded here.

Between you, me, and the fence post; I’m not sure it wasn’t Stephanie who whispered in her ear and insisted that she make the reservations for this place.

When you get to Nashville, what’s the obligatory stop? Why, Hattie B’s, of course! They’re famous for their hot chicken. The heat ranges from Southern (no heat), Mild (a touch of heat), Medium (warming up), Hot! (I think this is self-explanatory), DAMN HOT! (seriously?) and then there is “SHUT THE CLUCK UP” (Oh my!). Now, Mrs. McCroc & I are acutely aware of our limitations and know that we live squarely in the “Southern” region when we order our chicken.

The HB was a bit more adventurous, she ordered Medium.

Yoko Uno? Now she took it a step further, ordering ½ and ½; half Mild and topped it off with the other half Medium. Yoko Uno admitted that at the counter, she boldly requested a plate of the Hot! The lady at the register took a look at Yoko and in the cutest little Tennessee accent said, “Are y’all sure, Baby?” Yoko was immediately intimidated and backed off.

McCroc went all the way Hot! and I just watched him gulp it down. Why in the world? I mean I just don’t see how anyone can enjoy anything after your tastebuds and tonsils have been scorched. I just don’t get it.

The HB, not willing to be outdone by the Cmdr. asked him for one of his wings. Big mistake. Apparently, his wing and her wing touched and she got just a hint of the heat eating her wing after it had just brushed up against hers! HEY! WE’RE GONNA NEED SOME MILK DOWN HERE! STAT!

I can’t even imagine what “SHUT THE CLUCK UP!” would have been like.

Whew!

Drink ‘em if you got ‘em!

One band, one sound.

#coffeehousechronicles