A quick recollection of our whirlwind trip to Louisville last week. All we did was relax, sleep, eat, drink, nap, eat, and drink some more. It was awesome. And decadent.
Monday: Hour long massages at Apex Massage in St. Matthews. Kim and Emily were awesome and got the mini-cation off to the perfect start. We checked into Inn at Woodhaven and was floored by the gothic revival architecture and the total hospitality of the innkeeper, Marsha. Great room, with an awesome bed and linens, and a spa tub for two, more on that later!
We hadn’t eaten since breakfast so we hightailed it to Bourbons Bistro (I think “Bourbons” is plural, not possessive) where we both had a flight of “Old Favorites.” The last three were far more memorable than the first three and we were surprised at how drinkable the Wild Turkey was. We dined on an assortment of appetizers which included fried green tomatoes, fried oysters with horseradish aioli, shrimp and grits in a gravy like sauce, and a lobster pesto grilled cheese (pic: bottom left).
- Old Taylor 6yr. 80°
- Old Forester 100°
- Wild Turkey 101°
- Evan Willians 7yr.
- Old Fitzgerald 1849
- W.L. Weller Special Reserve
The Brown Hotel was next on our list for a hot brown but since we were underwhelmed by the lobby bar, menu, and cocktail list, we settled on Jack Fry’s for a night cap. An Old Fashioned for him, and a Side Car (with Old Forester) for me. As terrible as it sounds, we couldn’t visit Kentucky without a trip to a local chicken joint. Enter Chicken King’s drive-thru window: yup, tastes just like KFC. Which was promptly consumed while soaking in a spa tub.
Tuesday: Caligula would be proud. Breakfast at the Inn was a three course affair that included fruit, yogurt, whipped cream, eggs benedict, cheddar jalapeno popovers, and a breakfast pie. Such a meal required a quick nap to prepare for the culinary assault that was to take place shortly at Proof on Main. We headed towards downtown with full intentions to check into 21C but were sidetracked by Butchertown Market. It’s a cute warehouse space with gift stores, a chocolaterie, and it’s still expanding! It’s located across the street from a pig processing plant. Pig air!
Appropriately, we spy The Blind Pig from Butchertown’s parking lot and, feebly resisting better judgment, find ourselves noshing on (pic: left, center) rustic pork pate (Pork Rillettes), house made chorizo and toulouse sausages accompanied by excellent bread from Blue Dog Bakery. We drank (first round) an Old Speckled Hen, a sparkling pink prosecco, (second round) a bacon-infused Sazerac Rye Manhattan, and an Ohio River Water Fizz (Abita root beer, Tanqueray, house made coffee bitters, egg white, and garnished with mint).
This post is getting way too long… We ate and drank way too much.
After making it to 21c Museum Hotel, napping ensued, again. When we finally got to Proof, we started with a flight of Proof Selection bourbons which outshone Boubons Bistro’s selection. This flight included: Woodford Reserve Proof Selection, Van Winkle 12 year, Van Winkle 15 year Proof Selection (included 20 year barrel too). Smooth, velvet-y, and perfect for our special little mini-cation. Bob had the Strapping Lad (Cruzan Blackstrap Rum, Punt e Mes, honey, and lime), waaay too sweet for either of our palates.
We had a couple more drinks and followed up with wine during dinner which consisted of: roasted Kentucky bison marrow (pic: left, bottom), skillet octopus bagna cauda, pappardelle with hunter’s style rabbit and shaved celery, and a side of broccoli rabe. As we’re eating our dinner at the bar, in front of the tequila display, I get the great idea of having some tequila. What Miss Jenny Pittman pulls out of her stash is the BEST TEQUILA I’VE EVER HAD. Fruity, citrus-y, with a bit of sweetness, it’s nothing like conventional tequila. It’s called Tequila Ocho, Single Estate 2009, Plata. I MUST get my hands on at least two bottles before it sells out. We finish with a fantastic milk chocolate caramel tart, with Maldon sea salt and whipped creme fraiche.
WHEW!
Wednesday: After a decent breakfast at Toast, a Monte Cristo for me, a Mediterranean omelet for him, and a bread pudding pancake to share, we head to the adult playground known as Party Source. I buy too many bottles of booze, tell Bob that he is unconditionally not allowed to drink any of it unless I get to mix it, and dream of drinking Aviations once it hits 70Celsius.
The End.
lip shmacking around 
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