A whiskey adventure for you and me.
The Kentucky Derby glorifies quite a few grand traditions, though mainly the exultation of vices. So gamble away! Based solely on names, I’m going for Golden Soul (Orb is another story) despite 30-1 odds. Lest we forget the Derby of 08, the year I chose Big Brown. (I mean, his lineage consisted of horses named Danzig and Northern Dancer.) Meanwhile, my folks invested the lion’s share of that year’s gamble on a horse who died on the race track.
So go against the odds, and look great while doing so. The Derby is a boastful event; you need to be well-tailored, adhering to some absurd class standard, and by all means: outhat everyone.
Whether you’re in Louisville or not, or avidly watching horses run in circles or not, you’re going to need a mint julep. If you’re in Churchhill Downs and presumably own a horse, you can reach into your bespoke seersucker and order up a Woodford Reserve julep. For a mere grand, a master distiller will mix and deliver a julep in some limited edition cup filled with freshly plucked mint leaves DUSTED WITH GOLD, sweetened by the most organic sugar Australia could offer, with ice imported right over from the Bavarian Alps, and whatever the hell GOLD-FILTERED MINERAL WATER might be. Then, as “My Old Kentucky Home” blares across the track, you can cheers to your skewed worldview and the southern persistence for madras I guess.
If you’re anyone else, really you should throw on a sundress or some shorts, take to a backyard, prepare any of these mint juleps or variations thereof, maybe live stream a few races for authenticity, and revel in the springtime with glorious bourbon.
Gift a Whiskey Drinker: a Drinkmaster hoodie
This is insane. All you really need to smuggle whiskey anywhere is an air of nonchalant confidence. But the spirit of ingenuity is always appreciated.
Perfect for: your twenty year old brother who came home over spring break to wash his clothing and pilfer your folk’s Pasta Roni before heading back to state college