“Bourbon, America’s Native Spirit” in Denver Colorado

Chef Danhi and I recently attended the 2009 International Association of Culinary Professionals (IACP) annual conference held in my home town of Denver Colorado. The highlight of this event, for me at least, was a class entitled “Bourbon, America’s Native Spirit” proctored by the one and only Parker Beam of the famous Jim Beam label and family.

As a long time fan and once upon a time salesman of this mahogany hued elixir of life and anger I thought I knew a good bit about it. However, a good deal of knowledge, new to me, was imparted by this iconic figure of the beverage industry. As charismatic as he is genuine, Parker Beam captivated even my limited attention span; divulging golden nuggets of information in a manner only achieved by such a southern gentleman.

It turns out that Bourbon dose not, in fact, have to made in Kentucky to be called Bourbon, it simple has to be made there if you intend to sell any of it, as it was put by Parker.

Through out this indulgent and educational episode of justified intoxication the audience was coddled through a progressive tasting of some of Kentucky’s finest Bourbons, beginning with a cantankerous 4 year old youngster and climaxing with a sultry, 28 year old lick of Mr. Parker Beams name sake spirit. I shared an intense love hate relationship with this minuscule yet monumental moment in time as I savored each drop and then instantly suffered its departure from my palate; that is until I noticed a few foolish or perhaps unfortunate victims of scheduling circumstance had abandoned full glasses of this wonderful whiskey as old as I and yet far more mature. I quickly scooped them up and was on my way before anyone could notice or at least do anything about it.

Aside from the beverage knowledge, I learned much from this experience. I realized that although often, my mother is not always incorrect. For years it has been her mission to enlighten people of the power of living in, and enjoying the moment. The moment I spent with this glass of Kentucky pride was as exhilarating as it was brief and could only be appreciated for that very instant, but because it was, will be fondly remembered for the rest of my drunken, stumbling, days.

Thanks Mom, I get it now.

Globally Hungry; Universally Yours!