One Bourbon, Two Bourbons, Three Bourbons

A wide psychological gulf extends between Chicago and Kentucky, though the distance is less than from SF to LA (less than a six hour drive from north Chicago suburbs to Kentucky's cultural capital, Louisville). The goal was to tour Bourbon country and tasting, much like wine tasting in California, though with bluegrass music and thoroughbred horses running around the countryside.

So off I went, to visit America's only native spirit, the bourbon country of central Kentucky. Kentucky still is shrugging off a century of propaganda of it being a hillbilly state. I found nothing of the sort. Everyone I met on the road was friendly, smart, knew a lot about bourbon, and was proud of Kentucky. The Kentucky accent was pleasant mid-southern, heavier than Virginia and Tennessee though less than deep South Georgia or Alabama. It's also pretty neat that the state capitol rotunda has a side-by-side statue of both Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis, Presidents of the Union and Confederacy, as both are native Kentuckians.

I was also struck by the heavy Jewish presence in this area; the main hospital of Louisville is simply called "Jewish hospital". The largest nature reserve was set aside by a turn-of-the century bourbon magnate Isaac Bernheim (the cafeteria in the LEED-certified gorgeous visitor center is called "Isaac's cafe"), and the family owning the last major family-run distillery of Heaven's Hill - as well as making an awesome pomegranate liquor (Pama) , is the Shapiro family. People could, and did, make their fortunes with bourbon.

And this stuff is good. Not all whiskeys are bourbons, but all bourbons are whiskey, mandated to be at least 51% corn, the rest rye, wheat, and yeast. All of the flavor comes from the barrels it sits in, for 5 to about 25 years. The barrels cannot be re-used, so they are then sold, mostly to Scotland for their scotch, but also to the Caribbean for dark rum and Mexico for dark tequila.

This area is also known for the quality of the water, the main ingredient of bourbon. It sits on a limestone shelf, which leeches away the iron, a bad thing if you want to distill liquor, which makes the water black and bitter, and adds calcium for healthy bones when sipping the morning shot. The water was indeed tasty, but I came to drink heavier stuff.

I needed to stop at all six distilleries on the trail and get a "passport" stamped to get a free t-shirt. So the first stop was at Jim Beam, a mega distillery, but "guarded" by two of the cutest dogs. All around, the bourbon stills were evident. Eventually, Heaven's Hill, Four Roses, Maker's Mark, Wild Turkey, and Woodford Reserve were all visited.

The distillers have some pretty ingenious methods of stacking these 500 pound barrels, and these places can withstand tornadoes by simple wooden cross beams.

In any event, the average age for most bourbons is about 7 years. From then on, evaporation becomes a serious problem. That's why an 18-25 year bourbon is so expensive (100-200 dollars per bottle), because nearly 60% of it's gone, or as known in around here "the angel's share", since they are the only ones to enjoy the evaporated spirit.

It's time to start the tasting. Bourbon has four qualities to it: sight, smell, taste, and throat feel. Sight: it should be a nice, caramel color. Smell, with an open mouth, should be pleasant. If the master distiller goes through a batch, and test #1 and #2 don't pass muster, then he won't even bother to taste, it goes back to sit in for another 1 or 2 hot summers and cold winters in the barrel. Finally, the taste should be bursting with caramel, butterscotch, barrel flavors, and the warmth going down the throat to the stomach should be pleasant, not harsh.





My favorite bourbon? It's not hard to spend $100-$200 for phenomenal stuff, rich caramel flavor, heavy mouth feel, smooth going down. Four Roses special reserve or Pappy Van Winkle will do, but it's not cheap. My wife still couldn't believe I spent $100 on Four Roses last year, I don't think that she'll be down with spending twice that on some Pappy, though even if I wanted to spend $250 on the bottle, this stuff flies off the shelf so fast I couldn't find it in stock in any town. So that leaves the mid-range. Woodford Reserve is the favorite of all the taste tests, and it is the official beverage of the Kentucky Derby. And yes, it's quite good, smooth, no harshness, perfect for a day at the races. But it lacked an oomph, or some character to it. Sorry Elijah Pepper, resident Woodford kitty.




So now what? After I polish off the "best value" bourbon I have at home (and winner of a blind taste test - surprise - Jim Beam "Black"), the next taste I'm angling for is the bourbon flight I had at the excellent Lilly's restaurant: Willet's Single Barrel Bourbon:

http://www.bevmo.com/Shop/ProductDetail.aspx?D=bourbon&Ntx=mode%2bmatchall&Dx=mode%2bmatchall&Ntk=All&Nty=1&Ntt=bourbon&N=4294967139&ProductID=25452

Sake Bar Yoramu

After reading about this place in a NYTimes article, we had to check
it out our first night in Kyoto. Armed with little more than vague
directions, Jaclyn and I battled pitch dark Kyoto streets on Tuesday,
wind, cold, and a smattering of rain.

I passed by it on the left, and noticed the long interior which was
the photo from the website. A small sign, which we would have passed
by otherwise, said "Yoramu" in Hiragana - and looked non-native
Japanese script at that. This was the place.

We entered into a cozy, small, and modern bar. It was warm. Obscure
Thelonius Monk jazz playing in the background. Yoram was our sake
bartender for that cold, rainy night. at 8PM, we were the only ones
there. He thanked us for braving the elements in coming.

Yoram looked like an Israeli living in Japan for 22 years. We spoke
fluidly between Japanese, Hebrew, and his soft British accented
English. This guy loves sake and music. Both tended to reflect his
personality, a little mysterious, very interesting, and extremely
individualistic.

To prepare for our tasting, he asked us which white wines we had a
preference for, then used that as a template for sake. Our sake
tasting flight was a revelation - some sakes had floral notes, others
had hints of chili or fruit. This is rice wine, nothing more. All of
the sake changed notes as we bit into some small dishes he prepared
for us. Alas, that night did not have his famous home-made falafel or
a Kyoto speciality - yuba, but spring salad and miso marinated fish
complimented all the sakes we tasted.

I asked him how has Japan changed in the last 22 years. "Women are no
longer slaves. Otherwise, it's exactly the same". We told him about
our stay in Beit Shalom - the Christian Zionist guesthouse. "From what
I understand, they're lovely people" - he noted. "I just am very
uncomfortable with people who automatically love me prior to meeting
me just because I happen to be labeled with a certain ethnic or
religious group identity."

That got me thinking about whether anti-Semitism and philo-Semitism
are two sides of the same coin, when two Japanese middle aged men came
in. Very loud for Japanese - a superior and subordinate, with the
superior trying to show how "hip" he was going to a just-enough exotic
place. I'm sure some gaijin sitting at the table added some "street
cred" as well. Quickly yet subtly, the background music changed from
mysterious jazz to neo-Middle East Arabic music. Yoram knows his
customers

That's when another couple came in as well - and then no more room, as
the bar only sat for 6. After half an hour of him taking care of his
new customers, he came back to us. "Sorry about that - the first
people that came in here really are not my regulars. Please accept
something for their rowdy behaviour." He looked at me "what year where
you born in". 1974 - then out came a bottle and a pour of what looked
like and tasted like excellent brandy. Amber gold in color, warm and
sweet. "great brandy". "That's not brandy" - Yoram replied "It's sake
brewed from 1973". I've never had 35 year old sake before, and
probably never again. It was absolutely delicious.

It did end up being one of our favorite nights out in Kyoto. The warm
feeling kept going as we staggered out a few hours later, buzzed from
sake and mysterious conversations in the cold Kyoto night.

Japan's Obsessions

It finally dawned upon me why Japan is often beguiling to the visitor.
Much of Japan's culture takes the ordinary and elevates it to an art
form. Flower arrangement. Wrestling. Hotels - many kinds. Bathing.
Eating. Toilets. Trains.

This takes a certain amount of obsession - in hobbies, and pride in
work. It can turn horribly wrong, of course, as history has shown,
but on a day-to-day level, it's why traveling here is so much fun.
You never wait more than 30 minutes to hop on any train, bus, or other
forms of public transportation in any stretch of the country. Believe
me, I've tried. Merchants are always very friendly and helpful. It's
unheard of to see the scowls one finds back home.

Every time in Japan, I employ the "water" test to see if it's still
applicable. At any restaurant or cafe, the minute I begin to think
that I want a refill of water, a waiter is already there refilling my
glass. I've never, ever had to ask for a glass to be filled. Well,
the water test passed with flying colors on our 2nd day. It goes
without saying that you are always served water at a restaurant as a a
default. Isn't that natural?

Since it's a small country with an even smaller area where most people
are crammed together, everybody is polite. While on the futuristic
Shinkansen, a woman got on board and sat in front of us, then looked
at me, smiled politely, and excused herself with an apology before
tilting the seat back. That's very Japanese. What's even more
Japanese is that the precision design of the seating arrangement
assure that even when the seat in front of you is tilted backwards,
you don't feel it as a passenger.

I can go on for hours about the minute details that make life so much
more pleasant, again, on a day to day level. Hot, damp towels given
to you prior to a meal. Always a small yummy salty snack at a bar to
go "gratis" with your cold beer. Packages that open up logically and
efficiently, with a small slit that doesn't reduce you to tearing at
it like a caveman. Potato chips in a bag coated with an invisible
resin that don't crumble. Small packets of sealed ice packaged with
together with our take-away strawberry shortcake. Food and drink that
manages to be both strong-flavored and subtle at the same time.
Numbered platform on train stations that correspond to your ticket.
Automatic toilets everywhere. HEATED toilet seats - the most
underated technological breakthrough of the last 50 years. a "sound"
button on the toilet to mask the other, natural sounds. Automatic
"Star Trek" doors on the trains with a cool "woosh" sound. Trains
that go through mountains with wide, open windows to enjoy the
scenery. Trains that go to and from the airport that automatically
dim the lights 50% in consideration of the dazed and jet-lagged
passengers. Lack of jarring noises. Quietness. Vending machines
serving cold and HOT drinks. This is such a treat in cold weather,
holding a nice, hot can of "royal milk tea" or "UCC coffee". After a
minute of holding this hot can in your hands, you then get to drink
this hot drink and warm you up inside - only in Japan.

We were both wondering why the public toilets didn't have soap
dispensers, until we realized that the automatic hand dryers all have
a built-in UV ray dispenser to kill the germs. I told Jaclyn that she
would be angry at the level of day-to-day assault on the senses when
she returned to the States after a week in Japan. The only comparable
thing is probably walking into a "pachinko" - Vegas style gambling
places dotting the urban landscape. We walked into one, and Jaclyn
turned around in 2 seconds and walked out - not enough time to even
snap a photo. Sure enough, it was a shock coming back here. You don't
realize how different and better you can make life in an advanced
economy by paying attention to the small things.

Thai Observations

) Thais are transfixed with snakes. Our first night at the
guesthouse bar had a "National Geographic" nature special playing in
the TV background. no one payed attention. Then, the segment turned
to snakes. All the Thais around the bar were instantly intrigued,
looking, pointing, shouting at the screen! As soon as it was over,
and the segment switched to another animal (great white shark), all
the Thais turned away, just as quickly. I'll soon start a 24-hour
snake cable channel in Thailand and make millions.

2) All the food is great in Thailand, except for the stuff cooked for
the "farang" - foreigners. No one believed us when we went to
restaurants and asked for it spicy-Thai style. For the non-touristy
restaurants that we did go to, the food was phenomenal, especially the
roasted eggplant. You could tell the quality of the place by one
slurp of its Tom Yum soup.

3) Thailand used to be overrun by backpacking Israelis straight out of
the army. No more. The country has become too expensive and "safe".

4) Bangkok is a much less seedy city, and is now actually easy to get
around. The vibe's fantastic and the pollution was not so bad.

5) The islands of South Thailand can still be paradise on earth.
True, Koh Phi Phi has lost its soul, though we did find a slice of
paradise on electricity-free Koh Jum. That's going to change by next
year, though, when they build a new electricity cable.

6) I've never managed to pronounce spoken Thai in such a way that
Thais can understand, and that's still the case. They do find it
amusing, though.

7) Thais have loads of personality and are hilarious, especially the
women. Our train attendant / food server helped herself to a bottle
of beer -on our tab - while on the Mekong-Bangkok night train. She
was so funny, though, we gladly paid up. After we took a photo with
her, she grabbed the camera, looked at the digital picture, and said
"sexy, sexy!". I think she was referring to herself. By the way, even
the Tom Yum Soup on the train is better than the average soup you can
find in a US Thai restaurant.

8) We were told that it's better to drink hot liquids and soup when
it's very hot outside as to trick the body to cool down. I think it's
a sadistic joke on the farang. I'll do with an ice-cold Singha beer.

9) Thais in general speak in a much softer, quieter tone than
Westerners do. It took a few days to get used to this and lower our
voices as well. Unfortunately, it's now back to normal.

10) Siamese cats in Thailand are very cute, but the ones in Laos are
even cuter, as you will find out in my next segment.

Zen and the Art of Car Seat Installation

Car seats for infants are mandatory in California. The hospital won’t let you leave with baby until they check to see one is in the car. Unfortunately, more than 80% of them on the road are not properly installed, rendering them almost useless.

To lower these statistics, the California Highway Patrol and Automobile Association offers inspections to make sure that the car seat is properly installed. I have a feeling, however, that many people just bring them uninstalled and sit back while an officer does all the work. Aren’t they supposed to catch drunk drivers?

I can understand the dismal statistics. These seats are non-intuitive, have many parts, hieroglyphic instruction manuals, and yoga contortions and exertions placing these in the backseat. It took me a cumulative five hours of deciphering the manual after searching and downloading it, putting the seat and components together, then wrestling the LATCH system in my car, while figuring out the lame acronym (Lower Anchors and Tethers for Children). And that still doesn’t count the prudent trip to the CHP station for a final check and an OK.

Why go through all of this rigmarole? Machismo initially played a part. Nothing quite saps testosterone like carrying a diaper dude “murse” on one shoulder while sporting an infant sling on the other. Allowing a cop who should be catching bad guys installing this for me just feels weird and humiliating.

But the macho feeling soon melted away, and another feeling entered in as the hours crept by staring at this plastic piece. What I usually feel when mediating – a sense of calmness, curious inspection, and relaxation all rolled into one, began. This reminded me of a Zen teaching – when washing rice, wash the rice, when sweeping floor, sweep the floor. That is, be aware in the present moment, and when thoughts wander off as they tend to (like why is the illustrated baby in the instruction manual so freakishly happy?), guide them back into place by the simple act of doing and being present in the moment.

Not a bad take-away from installing just a car seat. Could be a useful parenting skill as well. And if the CHP officer says it was done all wrong, then it’s time to do it all over again. And then I’ll submit this story to a fortune cookie company.

Obsession, For Parents

I never understood the Calvin Klein Obsession perfume ads, connoting mystery, seduction, and beaches. I think for the most part various obsessions have a limited range, beginning at boring and ending at creepy.

So Jaclyn and I vowed not to be “that” new parent – like sublimating our identity by changing our Facebook profile picture to that of the newborn, or boring non-parent friends to tears with the latest diaper change alerts or news about “tummy time”.

Judging by our behavior with Dalton, our new cat (AKA baby version 0.5), we have failed spectacularly. The first sign of trouble was when both of us broke spontaneously into singing Mozart’s Serenade #13 with they lyrics “meow, meow-meow” to keep the cat entertained on its first night home. The second sign was setting up a new Facebook profile exclusively for Dalton and posting comments on it from the cat’s perspective. That’s healthy, right?

The more we have the cat around the house, the more I see it as a training practice for the real thing – a simulator before sliding into the cockpit. So I’ve made a list about how a cat (or dog), changes one’s life, and realized that this can be interchangeable with a newborn:

5) your schedule irrevocably changes, even at the most intimate times, like sleep – because of the cat. During work and other events, all you want to do is rush back home and be with kitty.

4) wiping poo off the cat’s butt during litter accidents is unbelievably gross, but it doesn’t feel that way because the Oxytocin “cuddle chemical” takes over your brain.

3) you feel that your cat is the smartest, cutest, and most athletic cat of all time, indeed, throughout history. You actively work to make your kitty the next “Maru the Cat” YouTube sensation.

2) photos and video of your cat adorn your real and cyberlife, and you don’t hesitate to show them to friends, co-workers, and strangers, whether solicited or not.

1) you have no idea how a 7-pound furball waltzed into your life and taken over your emotions completely.

Finally, we used to laugh at enforced “date nights” that keep new parents’ relationship balanced and sane. Until we had our first non-cat date in a month. I think we’re ready for that kid already, and for all the obsessions that come along with it. It may not be mysterious, seductive, or “beachy”, but it’s sure a lot of fun.

Spicy Food Workout

“You take out your aggression in the kitchen” Kasma, our Thai cooking instructor yelled at the group of would-be chefs. “Making curry”, she shouted, over the pounding of the heavy stone mortar and pestle, “is very therapeutic!” Pound, pound, thwack thwack. What was a pile of shallots, garlic, ginger, and chilis was soon pulverized into a fragrant, thick paste.

True, this nice suburban Oakland home where we took some courses in Thai cooking turned into a clanging din of pounding. Lots of smashing and pounding, it turns out, goes on in Thai cooking. It’s a socially acceptable way of getting out a little aggressive, historically female, tension. But with more and more men in the kitchen, the dynamics are shifting. Punching a hole in the wall while wearing a spaghetti-stained wife beater is a bit old-school. But smashing a clove of garlic with the flat end of a huge Chinese meat cleaver can feel just as satisfying, minus the broken hand.

Not only that, but the physical sensation of doing an activity releases a little adrenaline as well. OK, it’s not BASE jumping or alligator wrestling, but if we’re stuck as a species eating three times a day, and preparing three times as well, wasn’t this nature’s way of rewarding us for these tasks?

So I get the physical aspect of cooking, but what about the spicy level? It’s not natural – kids hate spicy things unless trained at any early level. Jaclyn remembers kids leaving restaurants in Oaxaca crying after the parents (probably the papá) forced them to eat that habanero chimichanga. We found the answer soon enough. Our cat, Dalton, eats anything we prepare on the kitchen counter – Gruyère cheese, crackers, yogurt, soy sauce, hummus, raw meat, you name it – this cat’s a vacuum cleaner. Everything except our spicy Thai food. He steer clears of that stuff – even though it has his favorite seafood in it, like Tom Yum shrimp soup.

Maybe humans started eating spicy foods because it deterred other animals and critters from helping themselves to the hard-earned calories? Or perhaps the chilis (and before Christopher Columbus, peppercorns) kept bacteria away from food in a hot and humid environment like SE Asia and India? That’s an interesting thought as well while we train our new kid to enjoy that hot n’ spicy soup. Because we can deal with a lot of challenges that new parents face, but bland food is not one of them. We’ll start with 500 Scoville Heat Units and work ourselves up the heat ladder. I just hope toddler doesn’t run out of our favorite taqueria, crying from mouth-on-fire, cause that’s just plain embarrassing.