As you would expect, Isaac and i are rubbing off on each other, infecting each other with verbal expressions (I find myself saying "Let's do this" like a high school jock), food preferences (Isaac warming up to my view that Chickfila's breakfast menu is superior over other mealtimes) and our hobbies. He has thoroughly converted me in terms of entertainment - watching endless crime dramas, thrillers and shows set in 19th century England. One way I'm rubbing off on him these days is with the past time of antiquing.
Interestingly (and not so relevant), antique shops and thrift stores are almost non-existent in South Korea. Isaac says it is because the older generation is very superstitious about objects holding remnants of their former owners. I'm not sure exactly why, but I can vouch for the absence of such places. I only saw a handful of stores selling used goods while in Korea, and they were all vintage clothing shops in hip parts of Seoul.
Wondering through displays of old things, usually with no set goal, occasionally leaving with a grungy knick-knack - there is nothing innately Isaac about it. But recently it seems like he is coming around, provided the place is air-conditioned and we are not too hungry.
We visited such a place this weekend, called Mellwood Antiques. It used to be a meat packing plant, yet now it is beautifully air-conditioned and feels charmingly historic, not grungy or gross.
You enter below the yellow M (shown in the closest building shown above) and find yourself in the antique mall. It is home to over 100 antique dealers and contains less of the lower end junky items (like Happy Meal toys from the 80s).
Wandering around and looking at the old stuff was fun, but what made this place feel unique (other than the glorious AC) is that the building is still transforming. Like a snake shedding its skin, parts of it are still flaky, rusty and untouched.
Some old photographs from the building's former days.
This place has too much room and too many buildings for just antiques. One floor is sectioned off into small pieces, rentable spaces for artists. Large rooms with tall, dreamy windows are rented out for special events. A martial arts school, specialist gyms, restaurants, craft shops and a hat shop. If an old fashioned millinery can survive anywhere these days, surely it is here in Derby City, where it's an annual event for women to wear unique hats.
The the right - this is the second floor just above the antiques mall - where we could spy on artists working and some people setting up for a wedding. It still looks very much in the midst of transforming, doesn't it? The industrial ceiling and floors clashing with the wall's fresh paint.
Below are shops nestled on the backside of the building we first entered.
Here I am wanting to pose with the oldness.
Just as I was admiring this delightfully dated view above us, Isaac commented on the humming of high voltage power lines coming from overhead too. I love how we can have such different thoughts and reactions about the same thing.
It wouldn't be Louisville without that effortlessly green grass and a horse statue or two.
Just wanted to share this cute place we visited recently. It's located just east of downtown Louisville, still close by the river, making it an easy place to stop by and kill some time.
This week, one year ago, held so much newness. Our wedding, saying goodbye to family and moving to South Korea. Back then it never occurred to me that we would be settled into Louisville, Kentucky in less than twelve month's time. It feels strange.
This weekend we will celebrate - maybe go to a nice restaurant or visit Mammoth Caves? We don't have a plan yet, but we have already bought ourselves an anniversary gift - a nespresso machine.
Maybe it's odd, but buying an espresso machine is something we've talked about even when we were dating. We dreamed of that day when we would have a place of our own and could enjoy drinking lattes and americanos together at home. So buying it for our anniversary made sense and felt a little like a rite of passage for us.
This machine is a convenient (lazy) way to create the coffee shop environment at home. It is special because it combines the ease of a pod machine (like a Keurig) with a 19 bar high-pressure pump which means that with just the press of a button, you get cafe quality espresso. The machine itself is also incredibly small, taking up only a sliver of the counter top.
So now weekend mornings can be transformed into our own private cafe. It is a funny and satisfying feeling to sip a delicious cappuccino that did not cost $4 on our cozy couch. I can't wait to have coffee-loving guests over and serve them too.
(My sister might flip if she saw the picture below..how I handed a cup to Isaac over the back of the lovely white couch she gave us.)
Besides showing off our new fangled coffee gadget, I wanted to share a little bit about what I've begun to learn in our first year of marriage. Maybe a one year anniversary is a small accomplishment in terms of the rest of our lives, but it's still a first for us and feels noteworthy.
Learning something and experiencing something can happen simultaneously, but often it seems like they are two separate actions, parts or layers of the same whole. I've heard before that each person carries within them unspoken and unrealized expectations. From our past experiences, certain things register as "normal" within us and these presumptions affect how we interact with other people.
Over the past year, I have seen some of my inner patterns for what marriage and family should be like come to the surface. Unknowingly, I relate to Isaac in accordance with these hidden codes, and expect him to respond as if he has the same collection within him. Well he doesn't. And together we are learning to expose such unspoken expectations, fuse ours together and compose our very own formulas.
Maybe I'm making this sound too abstract. It fleshes itself out in the smallest of things. Like dinner.
As a new wife and homemaker, preparing dinner has caused a few ruffles between Isaac and me. In my single life, I considered myself a decent cook - for myself at least. But since Isaac has different food preferences than me, learning to cook dinner for him is a bit of a process.
Here is what happens at dinnertime. Shortly after Isaac returns from work, I ask him "So, what do you feel like eating for dinner?" Usually I'll followup with a few different options, recipes that I know our pantry and refrigerator are well-stocked for. He responds coolly, saying some variant of "That's fine."
It sounds placid enough, but in reality neither of us was satisfied with this simple exchange. A recent conversation helped us to finally figure out that the disharmony is caused by our varying presumptions of what dinnertime is like.
The Moak home has a dinnertime prelude. It involves my mom asking dad (usually calling out the back door) what he would like for dinner. He usually responds by asking what's on the menu, and then she tosses out a few options. He picks one and then anticipates his choice for the next 30-60 minutes while my mom makes it.
This lovely dinnertime duet is what I unknowingly have been expecting to play out between Isaac and myself. And so Isaac's easy-going response of "That's fine" seemed a bit unsatisfactory to me. I wanted him to get excited about the dinner options and anticipate the eating, just like my dad does. I would ask him repeatedly "What do you feel like eating?" I just wanted to make something that would bring him happiness and pleasure, the excitement of eating I saw my dad express the moment he came inside and saw his plate waiting.
Isaac, meanwhile, told me that he was not used to being picky, but just eating the dinner his aunt had prepared for him. His response seemed so short and simple, but I have experienced firsthand what dinner with his aunt is like. It involves a wide array of entrees and side dishes, a scrumptious and seamless blend of American and Korean cuisine worthy of some hip restaurant. Fulfilling that inner expectation of what feels normal to him sadly is not something I am prepared to do anytime soon.
So he did not get why I did not simply have everything prepared when he came home. Why did I wait and ask him and only then start cooking? It seemed so inefficient, and gave him the unnecessary burden of choosing. What if he chose something that I don't like eating?
I never knew "What would you like for dinner?" could be interpreted in such different ways. To me it was a question to build excitement. But to Isaac it brought worry and frustration.
Discovering this discrepancy felt so fulfilling. It's only our first year, and no matter how much we have talked and continue to talk about what we consider fundamentals, I'm sure more unknown differences like dinner will pop up. I feel thankful to be with Isaac, someone so willing to be with me and uncover such roots together, and then have a laugh about it all.
(Our first dinner as husband and wife. We were so stiff and nervous. Still we joke about how the few morsels we tasted of that dinner were so delicious, if only we could have enjoyed it and eaten more.)
We woke up last Saturday to sunny, cool, irresistibly nice weather. Knowing that the rest of the holiday weekend would be storm mania, we had to the seize the day. We drove just over an hour eastward on empty country roads, and ended up outside of Versailles, at Woodford Reserve Distillery.
Below is the Kentucky River, the same river that runs through Frankfort. I wish I'd been able to snap a better picture of the high railroad bridge that crosses it.
The drive is so calm and even these vacant back roads seem polished and well-maintained. And plopped right down in the middle, surrounded by horses and pastures, is the distillery.
The atmosphere felt much different than our visit to Buffalo Trace. More like a country club, with plenty of grassy hillsides and a homey visitor's center.
While we waited for our tour to being, I couldn't resist trying a sweet corn cookie from the bakery. It was awesome - very buttery, sweet and distinctly corny. I've got to find a recipe and try making these at home.
Their basic tour includes a walk through of bourbon making - including a literal tour through various facilities. This tour did not share much history about the distillery itself, other than saying that it's "one of the oldest". Rather it focused on what makes Woodford's bourbon unique.
(working on the selfie skills)
Bourbon starts with a mixture of different grains - like corn, rye, wheat and barley - and each brand uses their own ratio of these ingredients. Woodford uses more corn than many bourbons, which they proudly say adds a unique sweetness to their product not found elsewhere.
Kentucky water is another brag-worthy attribute. The same limestone plate that made the beautiful Mammoth Cave makes the water here free of iron and high in calcium. Which means horses grow strong bones and bourbons grow delicious flavors.
To the right are tall fermentation vaults where the whiskey brews first begin. The wood is from cypress trees, so these giant vats are pretty immune to rot. Woodford allows its whiskey mixtures to ferment for a few days, longer than many other competitors. Upstairs, we got to see the top of these giant bubbling brews.
After doing this yuck face, we had the opportunity to taste this mixture, which is called mash. It wasn't bad. Isaac pointed out that it tasted similar to makheoli, a Korean fermented alcohol made with rice and other grains.
The tour guide pointed out that Woodford uses their own unique yeast strain which is kept under lock and key somewhere in downtown Louisville. They've been using this strain since 1929. I pulled her aside to ask her the year once more. Prohibition ended in 1933, so it just seemed a little odd that they started using it a few years before. But like I said, this tour didn't touch on history, so I guess I'll never know why.
Next it's distillation time. These three giant copper stills are iconic at Woodford. They were made by some famous craftsman in Scotland, the same kind used to make Scotch over there for many years. So products here are distilled not once but three times.
Our tour guide passed around the resulting liquid after distillation so that everyone could get a whiff of the clear, pungent white dog.
Below on the right is a shot of the barrel rolling tracks. The length of track runs from the distillery room to the warehouse.
We poked our heads in and out of the warehouse. Woodford Reserve's bourbon does not remain in the warehouse for a specific amount of time, such as 7 years. Rather, master tasters start checking barrels after a few years and barrels are pulled whenever the taste matches Woodford's signature flavor profile.
Then the bottling room. Here our tour guide pulled the cork out of a barrel and filled a small glass for us all to sniff.
While waiting for our tour time of 2:10 pm and munching on that corn cookie, Isaac and I saw other groups of people having their taste-testings on the back porch and in a separate room in the main visitors' center. Apparently our tour were lucky, for we got to enjoy our taste testing within the warehouse.
The atmosphere was beautiful and we did feel pretty special gathered around our bourbon barrel tables.
Even for this part, our tour guide had special information sharing why Woodford's bourbon is so unique. She guided us through the taste testing, suggesting that we take two small sips first to acclimate our palette. Then a chocolatey nibble off the corner of our bourbon ball, chased by a third sip of the bourbon.
Woodford Reserve's master tasters have identified over 200 flavor notes in their bourbon - including coffee, vanilla, marzipan, banana.
The flavor note thing seems kind of funny to me. Just because when I sip warm bourbon, the overwhelming flavor is burning alcohol. Many different flavors can be imagined beneath that one dominating taste. Kind of like when closing your eyes at night, technically it's darkness, yet you can see a thousand different things - teethy creatures and warping faces are most common for me. But maybe my palette just isn't sophisticated enough.
Woodford Reserve's basic tour was very picturesque. There were several moments when we lagged behind the group to take advantage of photo ops, and when I pulled Isaac aside and whispered "stand here!" or "take a picture of me!"
It feels wrong to compare this place with Buffalo Trace Distillery because they are so different - yet I can't help but do so.
Woodford was a nice and comfortable introduction to bourbon making. At times it felt like an hour long sales pitch of why Woodford is the best, but following and seeing the liquid from start to finish was an awesome experience. I did miss learning any history about the place, but can't blame them for focusing on the product for an introductory tour. Tickets are $14 per person, but that's comparable to all of the distilleries on the Bourbon Trail*.
*(which, just FYI, is a registered trademark of the Kentucky Distiller's Association. Various distilleries have to pay to be a member of the KDA and a part of the official Bourbon Trail and its plethora of marketing. We learned this after I asked about the Bourbon Trail on our ghost tour at Buffalo Trace and received a shockingly curt response. Apparently there was a legal tiff between Buffalo Trace and the KDA. The only important thing to know is that this means tours are free at Buffalo Trace Distilleries but cost money everywhere else.)
(A hasty, scattered kind of post) Writing about Frankfort made me realize that we haven't actually explored our own downtown Louisville. Apart from the Thunder fireworks show, Isaac and I haven't visited the riverside city center. And that didn't change this past week (which was pretty uneventful save for getting a nice haircut) but there is another area closer to home that we know pretty well now. Known as the Highlands, this part of town is full of quirky shops, hip restaurants and some pretty architecture. Most of the fun lies alongside Bardstown Road, which seems to be a major artery of cool here. I only have a couple of pictures I snapped while driving and walking around, but I think they show some of the area's cuteness. And I think it's worth sharing since the Highlands has quickly become one of our favorite parts of town.
It's that kind of place that has more than its share of music stores, consignment shops, cafes and tearooms.
I love grungy buildings with different textures and patterns like these two.
In South Carolina, the palmetto tree and crescent moon are popular motifs for just about anything. I think we've discovered the Louisville equivalents - the fleur de lis and horse. The fleur de lis seems especially popular here, in the city named after a French king. It decorates the top of this short iron fence but we see it pop up on all sorts of things.
When we saw the neon sign below in the window of a restaurant on Bardstown Road, we knew that we're not the only ones to be a little confused about the pronunciation of this place. I've settled for "Loo-a-vul" and Isaac jokes around with his even shorter version "Loo-vul" which is quickly becoming a habit.
We tried out a tasty brunch restaurant called Highland Morning. I think this is the first time I've ever seen breakfast food graffiti like what decorates the corner of the building. I'm a fan.
And this coffee place, Safai, has some seriously delicious drinks. Isaac was so impressed, saying that it was just as good or better as some of the Korean cafes.
Yea, we like to pretend we are coffee snobs sometimes.
So that's all I have to say about the Highlands and Bardstown Road. I've got just one other (totally unrelated) little snippet worth sharing this week.
Growing up, Mimi and Uncle Mark always had bird feeders full of seed in their yard. We sat at the kitchen window many days watching the birds pick away - chickadees, cowbirds, cardinals, wrens, titmouses (titmice?), a cute little pair of mourning doves, the occasional obnoxious blue jay and some other one nicknamed "the little robber". Squirrels would climb up and jump on the feeder, resulting in a small mountain of seeds piled beneath the feeder.
Except for a brief sliver of time, I only ever remember Mom having a humming bird feeder. When I asked, the reason given was because Dad didn't want weeds growing in the yard.
I couldn't help but remember this when I walked towards our apartment's stairwell this week. A family living on the first floor recently started putting out a bowl of birdseed on their balcony rail. Now there is a healthy stalk of corn growing just beneath it.
This place has too much room and too many buildings for just antiques. One floor is sectioned off into small pieces, rentable spaces for artists. Large rooms with tall, dreamy windows are rented out for special events. A martial arts school, specialist gyms, restaurants, craft shops and a hat shop. If an old fashioned millinery can survive anywhere these days, surely it is here in Derby City, where it's an annual event for women to wear unique hats.
