My Bourbon Epiphany

 

I'm often asked what prompted me to start writing about bourbon. I always talk about living in Louisville and working in the industry, and about how my parents always drank bourbon. But there is a chicken-egg aspect to the story I've only just realized. 

My move to Louisville was for a job and with a plan that had nothing to do with bourbon. I was 26 and not a bourbon drinker. Mostly, I drank beer, but my spirit of choice was cheap blended scotch and I had just begun to flirt with single malts. 

When I walked into the liquor store nearest my new home and saw a wall full of different bourbons, I thought "what the hell" and never looked back. I never would have written about bourbon if I hadn't fallen in love with the drink first and I might not have done that if I had not moved to Louisville when I did. 

(And one of the reasons I was in a hurry to move to Louisville was to get my girlfriend away from another guy, but that's a whole different story.)

I have a vivid memory of that exact moment, the little storefront package store on Brownsboro Road, near Zorn. The bourbon wall was to the left. I remember the front of the store was glass, close to the street, so I picture it as dark, with cars rushing past just a few feet away. 

Growing up in Ohio, I was used to state stores. Self-service in a liquor store was new to me, let alone this. It was a tiny space packed with merchandise, most of it bourbon, or so it seemed. Beer was in a cooler in the back. The first thing I grabbed, right out of the box, was Old Forester because it was the first label I recognized. 

The moment was overwhelming but it sure said, "Welcome to Kentucky."