Bourbon And Bluegrass A connoisseur's tour of Kentucky distilleries.
By Rob Walker

(FORTUNE Small Business) – It's easy to take bourbon for granted. You hear a lot about Scotch--in fact, at most cocktail parties you'll find someone who will bore you to tears (or at least to drink) with endless single-malt minutiae. But I've always preferred bourbon as an unfussy, no-nonsense, literally American spirit. Recently I took the time to really explore my bourbon appreciation, by way of a process that I call "research" but that others might describe as a "series of benders."

I went to Kentucky, where seven distilleries operate in a small cluster between Lexington and Louisville. Most offer tours. Now, you might think it'd be fun to tour all the distilleries over the course of a day, but if you try it, you'll find yourself speeding along some winding horse-country road about 10:15 A.M., having just finished the day's first taste of bourbon. I can't recommend that, and I spread my trip over several days.

My first stop was the Buffalo Trace distillery, near Frankfort, where an easygoing, informed tour guide led me and a few others through the basics. (I had done some homework with the assistance of Charles Cowdery, a bourbon enthusiast, writer, and documentarian, who runs a great Website at cowdery.home.netcom.com.) All alcohol comes from fermented grains (or grapes), and for North American whiskeys the primary grain is corn. Distilling is the heat-driven process that concentrates the alcohol to the desired strength, or proof. For bourbon, the next step is a long period of sitting in a barrel--and not just any barrel. It has to be a new one, made of white oak and charred on the inside. The bourbon sits for at least two years, but more often four to six and in some cases far longer. Older tends to mean more expensive, although not necessarily better. Kentucky's extreme weather shifts make the liquid expand and contract into and out of the wood--that's where the color and flavor come from. Finally it's sprung from the barrel, filtered, and bottled. (Close cousin Tennessee whiskey is run through a different, charcoal-filtration system.)

At Buffalo Trace we stood around and awkwardly watched the small assembly line of workers slap on the labels and box up bottles of Blanton's Single Barrel. (Single barrel is a self-explanatory category of premium bourbon thought by some to have a more consistent flavor; to an extent it's a marketing gimmick, as is the "small batch" phenomenon, since there is no rule about how "small" a batch must be.) Finally we retired to the gift shop, and everyone got to nip.

I took two more tours before I realized that the main elements of the process--which are actually a matter of federal law--don't vary much, and that one enormous vat of brewer's yeast looks and smells a lot like the next. The most picturesque setting was the Labrot & Graham distillery, set smack in an expanse of rolling hills and horse farms near Versailles. In the warmer months they even serve lunch, but sadly they give no samples of their signature Woodford Reserve bourbon. Later I made it over to the town of Loretto and the Maker's Mark distillery--another good, but alcohol-free, tour.

Figuring I needed to expand my research, I headed to the Galt House Hotel in Louisville. The bar there is said to have the city's biggest bourbon selection--120 varieties and various sampler options. I tried Basil Hayden eight-year (a little sweet for me), Elija Craig 18-year (better), and an Elmer T. Lee (not bad), and after that my notes start to deteriorate. I suppose further investigation is in order--but in this case I'm willing to make the extra effort.