Hedonia

Mint julep poached peaches

Once again, I am guest-blogging over at Married ...with Dinner for another installment of their Drink of the Week feature. This time I am discussing a drink I absolutely adore, the mint julep.

As an ice-cold beverage, the julep is cool and refreshing, but the flavors lend themselves well to other preparations. By upping the ratio of simple syrup and mint to bourbon, it makes a wonderful poaching liquid for ripe fruit, and in particular that most southern of fruits, peaches. Since peaches are just now reaching their pinnacle of ripeness, this is a perfect, and perfectly seasonal, dessert.

I stole the idea from Nigella Lawson's Forever Summer; I never actually bought the book, just watched her make this on the television show. I just intuited the recipe -- it isn't really all that complicated.

Do you dare to eat a [mint julep-poached] peach?

Eat me: Bourbon Balls

I've been pretty hard on Kentucky (and Kentucky's been pretty hard on me... ) but I want to be clear that there are many good things about the place. You just have to know what and where they are.

Case in point: Bourbon balls. Betcha didn't even know bourbon had balls, did you? Well, it does, and they are delicious.

There are two main producers of bourbon balls: Ruth Hunt and Rebecca Ruth. Each has its loyalists. Ruth Hunt, the Official Bourbon Balls of the Kentucky Derby (I am not making this up) uses Woodford Reserve from Labrot & Graham; the latter uses Evan Williams. Both are worthy, but I like Rebecca Ruth just a smidge better. Some of you may already know my propensity for bourbon and chocolate, so these are right up my alley.

Bourbon balls have a center of bourbon-infused butter cream, robed in dark chocolate and topped with a perfect pecan half. Different batches we've had over the years have varied in flavor from mellow vanilla-honey notes to white-hot booziness, depending on the freshness and, I guess, how sauced the confectioner was that day.

So what are you waiting for? Go order some! Heck, you can still get them for good old Dad.

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One year ago today ... I wrote a mash note to my wooden spatula. It's even more worn down now!

Drink me: Plumpjack 13-year bourbon

It's easy to forget, when you're firmly esconced in your own happy bubble of culinary joy, that mediocrity fills the world like so much styrofoam popcorn. The one surefire way to burst that bubble is air travel. For when you are on the plane, the universe of diverse and wonderful consumables is suddenly and horribly narrowed to a meager selection of subpar goods supply of which, in Soviet-era style, is prone to running out even before demand has been given the opportunity to arise.

Coming home from New York, wedged in a middle seat, I sought succor in the form of Jack Daniels to numb the psychic pain of the trip and help make the time pass faster. (This is another thing about air travel -- the eerie extension of time, as if the fuselage of the plane is some kind of time machine with the preternatural power to turn hours into days. Small wonder I always feel years older when I deplane.)

Now, DPaul and I like us the bourbon. A lot. Having been to Kentucky something like 500 times, we have had the occasion to visit a few of the distilleries, like Maker's Mark and Labrot & Graham (producer of Woodford Reserve). Many distilleries are in idyllic spots* full of natural beauty (fresh mountain stream water is, you see, a critical ingredient), peppered with quaint and country-fied cottages and cabins. Yes, it's all very Disney, but they do cultivate a marvelous image of old-fashioned booze-making.

(Photo: DPaul Brown)