So after the joys of Fayetteville, Charlotte and I head north, towards Louisville, KY and the start of the Kentucky Bourbon trail.
I’m salivating.
9 official distilleries, a handful of craft ones, all for the visiting and tasting over the coming week. Mmmmmmm.
But first things first.
Tonight is a big night on the UFC calendar – Diaz v McGregor and Holm v Tate. It’s must watch tv, and as with all sports is better watched in a crowd than alone, hovering over a laptop screen. There are better things to do in those circumstances.
After a long drive, it’s time to find out where it will be shown free. The usual places like Wild Wings and various sports bars appear on the confirmed list, but there is one name that draws the eye – Hooters.
So far on this trip I have resisted the temptation to check out one of America’s icons, but since it’s so close to me, and I’m tired, and I can stay overnight in the carpark, and, well I suspect none of that flies and I’m simply after a little bit of viewing pleasure.
So into Hooters I venture, plonk myself at the bar, order a drink and take a breath.
Just as well as I did that last thing, as it’s quickly taken away from me again. Now I’m not particularly a boob man (more than an Australian Standard Handful (ASH) seems a little but wasteful), but that doesn’t matter.
I can see why the place is popular with men, the options in terms of race, height, hair and eye colour are almost never- ending. All dressed in that peculiar American mix of propriety and exhibitionism. Coupled with the strain of exuberance and overt friendliness that most US servers evince, and it certainly would be an ego boost to most men.
Whilst I’m sitting at the bar I start chatting to one of the locals – Ken – a guy not much older than myself, but one who seems to know everyone’s name, and who the girls all come up and say hi to. Seems he is popular here, and he confides that he is dating one of the girls (not working tonight). Ken and I end up shooting the breeze all night, philosophising as the alcohol takes effect.
In the middle of all of this, the UFC provides 2 genuine WTF? moments as both Holm and McGregor lose. Ken heads out to his car (a Ferrari – who knew) and I retire to my less salubrious, but probably more comfortable Charlotte.
Now it seems a little silly to treat Louisville solely as an official head of the bourbon trail – surely it has more to offer. It certainly does – there is an old world charm about the place which is home of the Kentucky Derby (though I don’t actually check out the Churchill Downs racecourse as I can’t see the point of looking at a large grass circle devoid of horses).
I spot the baseball stadium from the freeway and once again wish a game was on, before heading to check out my normal place – local breweries.
Talking to locals, I’m turned on Louisville’s most famous item – The Hot Brown at the Brown Hotel. I find my way to the Brown’s dining room – think of that slightly snooty and judgmental about how you dress type of experience that you can find at “upmarket” hotels. Apparently I reach their standards, although I have arrived close to the end of their lunch service, and I am quickly seated.
The Hot Brown arrives.
It looks great, albeit in that oversize portion that only America can do. It’s pretty good, a sumptuous combination of turkey, cheese, butter, tomato, bacon and assorted spices. Maybe I’m missing something, but I’ll take a fresh crusty cheese and Vegemite roll any day of the week (as long as it’s made by someone else).
Louisville also has a couple of weird and wonderful beer bars:
World of Beer – a modern, slick corporate venue with around 500 different beers available.
Sergio’s World Beers – an odd, cluttered, homey place, named after the owner, with over 1000 different beers.
In case you couldn’t guess, I begrudgingly spent a few hours in each trying beers I haven’t been able to get anywhere else.
So, having wandered around and seen what Louisville has to offer it’s time to head off on the much anticipated Bourbon Trail.
More on that next time.
