"Kentucky" news and stories

With temps in the teens, and some unexpected snow on the ground, Knob Creek introduced the world to its first single-barrel reserve bottling right at the source, the Jim Beam distillery in Clermont, Kentucky.

A group gathered around seven-generation master distiller, Fred Noe, in one of the distillery's barrel houses, a plank-and-beam structure notable for its 20,000 casks of quietly aging bourbon, and on this particular morning, a distinct lack of heating or insulation. Noe, who traces his lineage back to Colonel Jim Beam himself (the man wasn't a marketing invention), carefully siphoned liquid out of several individually selected American white-oak casks to illustrate the distinction between Knob Creek and Knob Creek Single Barrel. Whereas the former is a blend and bottled at 100 proof, the latter is bottled directly from a single, "sweet" barrel, after being cut down to 120 proof (cask strength is around 130). The effect is an intriguing inconsistency in style that makes opening a bottle something of a throw at the roulette wheel. Of the four barrels we sampled, each had a distinctive profile that sometimes varied dramatically: Beyond the expected vanilla, wood and sweet notes, one skewed more towards a lighter, floral style while another had an unusually sharp, rye-like bite of spice.

• Is it back-to-school time already? Almost. Pack up your lunchbox.
• (Not sure what to put in it? The Center for Science in the Public Interest has ideas.)
• One Lexington sports bar is heading for the border.
• When cobbler feels like too much trouble, try making a slump. That's right: slump.

Producers at Kentucky's largest winery have found yet another advantage to boxing wine: Not only is the once-déclassé package a better wine preserver and earth-friendlier choice than conventional bottles, it can also double as a board game.

Elk Creek Vineyards this month released a three-liter "Blue Box Wine," adorned in Wildcat colors and designed so drinkers can play table football or basketball while they sip on varietals, including Tailgate Red and Tailgate White.

"It's just some extra fun," explains company spokesman Joe Hall, who apparently believes the wine world could benefit from a bit of athletic irreverence.

The box has a pop-out hoop and goal post and is issued with a tiny football and a ping pong ball. According to Hall, drinkers can bounce the ball off the table or shoot directly from the floor. Since boxed wine lasts 60 days, buyers who don't drain all the juice at a single tailgate party could have the opportunity to stage epic tournaments.

Some local food advocates in Kentucky are questioning a new Department of Agriculture program that will slap "Kentucky Proud" labels on beef processed in the upper Midwest.

A Business Lexington columnist reported there was an "outcry" from readers after learning of the state's plans to partner with Minnesota's PM Beef to overcome economy of scale issues that have prevented beef from becoming a major component of Kentucky's nine-year-old homegrown foods initiative. The situation's familiar to many cattle-farming southern states: Consolidation in the meatpacking industry has left Kentucky without the processing facilities it needs to keep its citizens supplied with affordable red meat.

"If we assume everyone in Kentucky eats an average of 80 pounds a year, with the processing capacity we have in Kentucky, we can provide only four percent of that consumption," Kentucky Department of Agriculture spokesman Bill Clary explains.

Under the new program, Clary says, PM Beef will purchase certified Kentucky-raised Angus cattle through Kentucky markets.

There are statues of Colonel Harland Sanders standing sentry at KFC outlets across Asia, but the town where the legendary restaurateur opened his first café has long resisted memorializing the man many locals consider a fast-talking, two-timing scoundrel.

"There are a lot of people here who knew him from way back," sighs Suzie Razmus, newly appointed chair of the Corbin (Ky.) Tourism Commission. "How can I say this? He wasn't exactly ..."

Universally beloved?

"Yes, exactly," Razmus says, with the obvious relief of a publicity pro saved from uttering something more damning. "You hear stories about women and his colorful language that didn't sit well with a small conservative town. There are still people here that say he owes their great-aunt money, or he fired their grandfather."