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The Bourbon Fox & Hound
← The Journal

May 10, 2026 · The Hound

Field Pour — The Resinous Finish

ButterscotchCloveCharred oakLingering pepper

A bottle landed in front of us last week — a single-barrel pick from a small Kentucky retailer that does its own selections quietly and refuses to post them on social. We will not name the shop here. They have asked us not to. The Lodge gets the address.

What we will write about is the pour, because the pour is the product.

The first taste happens at four in the afternoon, when the kitchen has gone quiet and the light is coming through the window sideways. The whiskey pours a deep amber that wants to be called copper. Held against a candle, it throws a single ring of legs that descend without hurrying. First sign of a serious bottle — a spirit in no rush.

On the nose: butterscotch first, the kind that has been left in a coat pocket. Behind it, dry clove and a faint suggestion of black walnut. Nothing aggressive. Nothing that announces itself. The nose on a serious bourbon should make you lean in, not back.

The first sip is wider than expected. The mid-palate opens into charred oak and caramelized brown sugar, then a slow turn toward dry spice — a black pepper that is more architectural than hot. There is a small flash of orange peel at the back of the tongue that disappears before you can be sure you tasted it. The finish is long, dry, and slightly resinous, the way a cellar smells after a hot day.

A note for the curious: this bottle responds beautifully to a single large rock and ten minutes of patience. The water opens the butterscotch and tames the spice into something more conspiratorial. Neat is also correct, but neat is for the second pour.

The retailer pulled the barrel themselves and bottled it at full proof. Three hundred and twelve bottles in the wild, sold over a long weekend, never restocked. If you are within driving distance of central Kentucky and you ask the right person at the right counter, there might still be one or two on the back shelf. That is the kind of intel the Lodge gets in full.

Open the bottle on a Thursday afternoon, not a Saturday night. Single-barrel picks reward patience. The shop owner who pulled this one knew that already.

— The Hound

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Oktoberfest at The Brothers, Before October

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