Following up from the Memphis, TN experience at Porcellino’s, we headed to the fishing tournament. Fishing as a spectator is only “a thing” on TV. You can’t be a spectator of your brother-in-law in person as he’s finishing 15th in a major national fishing tournament other than being at the weigh-in. Not like I’m trying to follow him on the golf course or something. So we were looking for stuff to do while we were in Paris, TN.
Enter the Kentucky Bourbon Trail. We were really close to Kentucky, or at least an hour and a half drive from the border, which is close enough in bourbon terms. After all, Kentucky is the home of Marker’s Mark, Blanton’s and a million other bourbons that adorn the fanciest of decanters in our home.
So while we’re waiting for the 3 PM weigh-in, and we’re used to getting up at 5 AM with little Emerson’s schedule, we decide we can make it to a craft distillery on the Kentucky Bourbon Trail called MB Roland Distillery. We head that way with every intention of making it back for Josh’s weigh-in. And we do. But first, let’s talk about this…
America loves bourbon. Too much. We had a private taste testing of the MBR products and it was a great experience albeit quick and small portions. We were the only people there besides a dog or two and some people milling in the garden. But we were able to taste all this…
So it’s probably a good thing we weren’t getting a shot of each. You can imagine my explanation to the officer on the way back to Paris, TN.
In the picture, you’ll notice the closest to bourbon in that massive taster line is white dog. Wait, it’s left of the picture; you can’t see it. The point is there’s no bourbon. They’re out. Like so many other distilleries; no one can keep their bourbon in stock. Way to go, America. I agree with your decision to love bourbon, but leave some for us. Come on.
We left the distillery with some treats for friends, family and neighbors and arrived back to Kentucky Lake for the weigh-in just in time. Even in the rain, we were there supporting Josh. He paid for dinner the night before anyway, so that was going to happen out of my southern gentlemen courtesy at the very least. As I said, he placed 15th in the tournament, which was “in the money”. That’s pretty cool.
We had some time before the fish-fry that was at the local convention center held for all the contestants and their families. I finished a few of the craft beers we discovered in Memphis and took a little of that Memphis flavor with me from Wiseacre Brewery. Then it was off to the festivities of the night. Josh would get his trophy. Emerson loves his trophies. There was some pretty decent live music, fish-fry, free beer (even though it wasn’t Wiseacre), and desserts. We done good.
On our way home, we stopped in Memphis once again. I’ll admit, I didn’t want to. I wanted to grab Sonic or a BBQ place or whatever and be the road warrior my family taught me to be. Get there, son. The faster the better. I didn’t want to stop and have another meal in Memphis, and considering we arrived to the city at 10:45 AM, it didn’t make sense to grab lunch to my stomach. But that’s what happened. And you know what? I was wrong. Jess called it. I’m so thankful we tried this other restaurant.
Another Andy and Michael restaurant in the same area; yes, it’s on the same street even. Hog and Hominy. A pizza place that rivals Cane Rosse, Eno’s, Frank’s, etc. in our world. And with the Wiseacre Gotta Get Up to Get Down to start the meal off, I had no complaints after.
Deviled Eggs were a hit. I’ll be back, Memphis. I’ll be back.