Bowers David - Bourbon Desserts

BOURBON DESSERTS

LYNN MARIE HULSMAN

Copyright 2014 by Lynn Marie Hulsman

Photographs copyright 2014 by David Bowers

Published by the University Press of Kentucky

Scholarly publisher for the Commonwealth,

serving Bellarmine University, Berea College, Centre

College of Kentucky, Eastern Kentucky University,

The Filson Historical Society, Georgetown College,

Kentucky Historical Society, Kentucky State University,

Morehead State University, Murray State University,

Northern Kentucky University, Transylvania University,

University of Kentucky, University of Louisville,

and Western Kentucky University.

All rights reserved.

Editorial and Sales Offices: The University Press of Kentucky

663 South Limestone Street, Lexington, Kentucky 40508-4008

www.kentuckypress.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hulsman, Lynn Marie.

Bourbon desserts / Lynn Marie Hulsman.

pages cm

Includes index.

ISBN 978-0-8131-4683-6 (hardcover : alk. paper)

ISBN 978-0-8131-4685-0 (pdf) ISBN 978-0-8131-4684-3 (epub)

1. Cooking (Whiskey) 2. Desserts. I. Title.

TX726.H86 2014

641.6'25dc23

2014010374

This book is printed on acid-free paper meeting
the requirements of the American National Standard
for Permanence in Paper for Printed Library Materials.

Manufactured in the United States of America.

Dedicated to my brother Mark,

a proud Kentuckian who loved a glass

of good bourbon.

Bourbon does for me what the piece of cake did for Proust. WALKER PERCY

I come from a long line of bourbon lovers. As a Kentucky-born daughter of Kentucky-born parents, who themselves were born to Kentucky-born parents, its my birthright to claim the warming, sumptuous elixir as my own when a bartender asks, Whats your drink? True to my heritage, Im flooded with fond memories with just one evocative whiff of the liquid gold that is bourbon.

I may live in New York City now, but please dont stir rye whisky into my Manhattan, like some beverage historians recommend. I take mine with Makers Mark, thrilling each time a mixologist reaches for the sturdy, familiar, fat-bottomed bottle with the red wax dripping down its neck.

Breathing in the rich caramel aroma, laced with oak and a hint of rich vanilla pound cake, Im transported back to my grandmothers house in the Germantown section of Louisville, cozied up next to her on the sofa, eight years old and freshly jammied, safe in the bend of her knees we called The Birds Nest.

Herm, will you bring us a nightcap? shed ask my grandfather, eyes twinkling. Suddenly, an ordinary evening became a party, and I felt very grown-up indeed to be invited. Mine was always presented in a four-ounce juice glass, on a plate alongside whatever cookies happened to be in the jar. It was mostly ice cubes and Sprite, but there was no mistaking the fragrance and flavor of the scant teaspoon of bourbon that transformed my drink into a highball, or the sociable feeling I got when we all clinked glasses in a convivial Cheers!

To me, bourbon signifies coming together with family and friends, slowing down to savor moments of sweetness and joy. Celebration. Connection. Reward.

And thats also how I feel about dessert. Together, bourbon and luscious butter- and sugar-laced baked goods are natural partners, enjoyed in moderation as a pleasure for the senses. As with so many things in our lives, excess isnt the name of the game, but when we allow ourselves to truly experience the depth of quality spirits and homemade treats, a just-right amount infuses life with pleasure.

Even now, one sip of warming bourbon gives me a Christmassy feeling, the spicy heat teasing out memories of the fragrant liquor my mother added to her locally famous, creamy-centered, chocolate-covered bourbon balls the way one would pure vanilla extract. My mother was never a drinker, but she was an alchemist when it came to blending flavors, and bourbon was a natural partner to the sweet and bitter nuances of this holiday favorite. Id like to think she concocted this annual treat as an homage to her father, who at age fifteen spent nights in jail as a stand-in for his own father, who ran a still in western Kentucky, near Franklin, as he scraped to support his family. Irish by descent, my great-great grandfather carried the familys proprietary liquor-making techniques from across the pond long before many other immigrants arrived at Ellis Island.

Id wait by Moms elbow while she beat the candy cream using down-home elbow grease, then help her hand-roll the confection into balls that would be enrobed in the melted dark chocolate that stood by. Perched atop a chair by the counter, Id help her press buttery pecan halves onto the crown of each decadent piece as a finishing touch.

I was lucky enough to inherit the few mismatched commemorative Derby glasses that survived from the collections of my mother and grandmother. They take place of pride in the front of my china cabinet, reminding me of homespun, backyard, first-Saturday-in-May parties with the grill fired up and excitement for the big race sizzling through the air along with the mayflies. Derby Day, not Memorial Day, is the official day when Kentucky ladies don the first white shoes of the season, and the women in our circle marked the occasion with gusto, breaking out their sundresses or festive pastel T-shirts, emblazoned with Kentucky Derby logos.

Fizzing with excitement, friends and family would pile their paper plates high with barbecued chicken (drenched in a sweet bourbon, brown sugar, and vinegar sauce), German potato salad, and coleslaw, washing it all down with highballs and juleps made in these very glasses, printed with the names of the horses who claimed victory in every Run for the Roses since Aristides, in 1875. And of course, there were desserts, tangible evidence of the sweetness of the occasion: nutty Derby pie, salty-sweet chocolate-chip cookies, trifle bowls layered with Nilla Wafer banana pudding, German chocolate cake, and ambrosia made with mini-marshmallows and jarred maraschino cherries. We traded dollar bills for slips of paper with the names of horses written on them, drawn out of a huge salad bowl, gambling on chances to win the pot. And we celebrated together, toasting with the signature drink of our state.

Im proud that the popularity of bourbon has caught fire during this past decade, and that my beloved beverage is being enjoyed far beyond the borders of the Bluegrass State. Bourbon is not only being imbibed in cocktail bars and barbecue joints far from Bourbon County, Kentucky; its being manufactured elsewhere, too. Although around 95 percent of production still occurs within Kentuckys borders, bourbon now springs forth from pioneering new distilleries in states such as California, New York, West Virginia, Wyoming, Illinois, Arkansas, and Florida. It gives me a warm feeling to know that bourbons new-found wide appeal means that its no longer simply a boutique beverage. Ready availability means that a new stripe of bourbon aficionados can feel like Kentuckians in their hearts, even if their feet have never tread on our states soil.