I’m not from here. I’m from someplace else. And we’ll deal with that later. Sometime later.

For the record, almost all of my friends and even family are also “not from here.” They’re also from somewhere else. And (I bet you guessed it), we’ll deal with that later, too. Sometime later. Too.

What is true now, though, is this: I’ve been a “died-in-the-wool, born-again Daytonian” for a long time. I won’t get specific about that, because then you’ll know that… well, you’ll know that I’m no longer so young.

One of the reasons for that “died-in-the-wool, born-again Daytonian” truth about me has to do with the old Upper Krust on North Main Street, and “Jimmie’s Cornerstone Bar and Grille” at Brown and Wyoming streets and the soon-to-be “Jimmie’s Ladder 11.”

And if you have never been to “Jimmie’s” present location yet, GO. Click on whatever your computer tells you to click on in order to shut down your computer or your Internet connection, and then gather you family if you got ‘em, and get over there. Go in the front door, ask if Jimmie is around, meet him and then join the other folks who are enjoying wonderful food, quickly (but not too quickly!) served by a friendly, folksy bunch of servers (at a quite modest prices), and then enjoy the heck out of yourself.

(Oh. And if you’re new to Dayton… well, enjoy Jimmie’s food and the atmosphere. The atmosphere at Jimmie’s Bar and Grille will have you preparing for your baptism as a born-again Daytonian!)

But… Voila: here we are, at the heart of this whole blog: atmosphere.

The atmosphere at Jimmie’s present day location and the atmosphere he and his whole crew will bring with ‘em as they move just north and east across Brown and Wyoming is what Jimmie’s has and will have… and it’s what Dayton has in HUGE HUGE amounts.

For me, that atmosphere is the same sort of friendly joshing, “what are you doin’ here?” kind of atmosphere that Jack Rouda created at the “old” North Main Street Upper Krust (yes: I do from time to time shed a tear or two…)

So: personal history.

In the early years of the long-ago 1970’s, I discovered this little place on North Main Street that served big fat cups of coffee that never seemed to stay empty, wonderful sandwiches that were way WAY “over-stuffed,” and a host (that would be Jack), who liked to come sit down with a new customer and chat.

Oh. Yeah. Jack would also come to your table and sit down and have a chat with you… well, Jack thought of you as “an old customer…” uhhhhhhh… you know: a seasoned customer…

And the time it took to move from “new customer” to “a seasoned customer”? For me? Second time I dropped in for coffee drinkin’ and newspaper readin’: two days.

After a casual “who are you?” from Jack, and a friendly conversation with Jack… Well. You could say I was hooked.

For my whole “professional life,” writing has been at the heart of what I get paid for. Only… at the time of the Upper Krust, I didn’t have a real job, if you will. I was doing a lot of writing here and there as a “free-lancer” – yep: that’s what they called what I did back then, and usually for not a whole whole lot of money.

But then pretty soon, I did begin to make a little bit of money from my writing (for clients! for clients!), and I transitioned (myself) into gradually calling myself a “communication consultant.”

(If you don’t believe me, I’ll show one of my early business cards: right there it says it. Communication Consultant.)

But… Back then, Jack Rouda watched the whole process. Watched me with my legal pad and pen (a real “ink pen” it was), writing notes and drafts and drinking coffee and writing some more and chatting with the other regulars and wandering around the place…

And pretty quickly, I became just another fixture. I had become a regular, seasoned coffee drinker at the “Krust,” and it didn’t matter to anybody in there whether I was a “free-lancer” or a newly minted “Communication Consultant.” Nope: Jack would bring the hot hot coffee to refill my and everybody else’s cup and… Well. Life just went on.

It was kind of… well, my second home for the most part. It was that kind of place. I started bringing my two daughters up for a cup of Jack’s soup for dinner (me? cook???? helluva writer, not much of a cook), and… Well, soon – very very soon – I was in the Upper Krust most of the days of the week. Saturdays and Sundays, if need be. Meeting clients. With my daughters and my relatives. Or maybe running into or really “meeting” friends.

Then I would meet more clients, maybe two or three or more… Just client meetings at the Upper Krust. And then pretty soon I would be taking it for granted that I’d go to the Upper Krust and meet new people, and they’ve become kind of friends and then some became “old friends…” And maybe… maybe… a guy or gal I met there sitting alone at his or her table would strike up a conversation and then… who knew? might become a client. But maybe… you know. Only maybe.

And for a long time (in the 1990’s… ancient history now), I was very active in my Five Oaks neighborhood association, so pretty soon folks and friends from Five Oaks would join the new breakfast crowd and we would have our meetings, you know, in an atmosphere (!) surrounded by folks from the City of Dayton, maybe my wife and the folks from her job having a meeting, some folks from the FROC Priority Board, maybe a bunch from the local Catholic parish, maybe…

Well: you get the picture. It was a place that welcomed the community to come on in, sit down and have a cuppa’… For that matter, with the atmosphere there… well, sometimes the Upper Krust caused community. We all knew each other or would quickly get to know each other as we went up the front off the place to get the newly brewed coffee (Jack didn’t feel like he or his crew had to get you every cuppa’ coffee you drank), and because we would pretty quickly realize that some of the people who were there for breakfast would probably stop by later for lunch. Or maybe dinner. Or maybe both.

You never know, of course… But it never mattered, either. Because you would see each other over and over and over. The coffee was that good.

And… well, truth be told, that coffee was probably good because the Upper Krust was such a great good place.

You know: atmosphere. Jack. Chocolate peanut butter pie. “Heaps o’ health” sandwiches. And… you know: atmosphere.

“Those were the days my friends…” we kidded ourselves into thinking…

But when it closed – that nasty old saying about “all good things must come to an end” – well, pretty soon Jimmie, who had quietly been the assistant manager at the Upper Krust for a lot of the time I went there… Well, Jimmie took his knowledge and experience and his personality (yep: he was and still is a whole lot like Jack… in his own way, of course) and kind of created “Jimmie’s Cornerstone Bar and Grille” and then some of the old “Krusters” wandered in.

Well, eventually, when all the dust settled, good ole’ Jimmie (and maybe the “ghost” of Jack’s) made “Jimmie’s Bar and Grille” the same kind of “that’s where everybody who knows goes” place.

Gayle Rouda, Jack’s wife, knows. She’s been going to Jimmie’s for a long time. And Jack… Jack Rouda himself… well, he’s there, as they say, “in spirit.” In this case: in the menu. You know: Chocolate peanut butter pie. Big, really stuff sandwiches.

So. Now that you know about Jimmie’s, when you get the chance, check out the menu. Feel the atmosphere.

And then you’ll know.

Kentucky has a long history of producing great things. It is the home to one of the most famous racing tracks in the United States, Churchill Downs. A powerhouse in college basketball also resides in Kentucky at the state university. One of the best boxers to enter the ring, Muhammad Ali, was born in Louisville. It is known as the Bluegrass State, mainly because the fertile soil produces a grass that is rich in nutrients and a slightly blue color, which helps to produce horses and other livestock that are famous the world over. As early as the end of the 19^th century, there were postcards available that extolled the four pillars of Kentucky society: racehorses, tobacco, pretty women – and bourbon.

Bourbon whiskey (or whisky, if you prefer) is known by many as “the spirit of America”. While bourbon is a whiskey, not all whiskey is bourbon. There are very specific traits a whiskey must have to be considered bourbon. It is internationally recognized that one of the defining traits of bourbon is that it distilled in the United States. It is believed by many that it has to come from Bourbon County, KY, but that is not true. Ironically, no bourbon is distilled in that county. However, 90% of the bourbon that is distilled in America is distilled in Kentucky. Bourbon must also be made from a mash (a mixture of grains and water) that is at least 51% corn. Other grains can be mixed in to the mash, such as rye, wheat, or malted barley. But, the bulk of it has to be corn, a grain that is native to North America. Nothing but water can be added to the distillate, and that distillate cannot be any higher than 160 proof (80% alcohol). The barrel that it must go into must be made of new, charred, American oak barrels (which are later sold to other distilleries that are allowed with fewer barrel restrictions), and it cannot go into the barrel at stronger than 125 proof (62.5% alcohol). At a minimum, bourbon must be aged for at least two years. The minimum strength it can be bottled at is 80 proof (40% alcohol). All of this was defined by Congress in 1964.

Before World War I, bourbon was one of the most beloved spirits in America. While whiskey was being made in America long before the Scotch and Irish made their way to Kentucky, it was their influence that truly began the influence of modern bourbon is created. They took the methods they used to create whisky in England, and applied that know how to corn, not the rye and wheat they were used to. Bourbon, like so many wonderful inventions, has more than one creator. The short list of people who have been given credit for how bourbon developed in Kentucky are Baptist minister Elijah Craig (debated as the first person to age moonshine into bourbon), Evan Williams (one of the first distillers), and Jacob Beam. Just as bourbon was gaining a foothold in the United States, World War I struck. When the United States stepped into the war in 1917, alcohol production was severely limited to weapons grade, high proof alcohols. World War I ended at the same time as the Temperance movement won its battle against alcohol, and the Volstead Act and 18^th Amendment decimated the American liquor industry. After Prohibition was repealed, the Great Depression and World War II further cut into the production of alcohol. By the time the U.S. had decent bourbon back on the shelves, it had not been seen in this country for nearly three decades. In that time, lighter and spicier Canadian blends had charmed the American palate, and the boys going overseas to fight the war (or get a drink) had brought back tastes for rum and vodka. It was not really until recently that bourbon climbed back into the American spotlight, prompting more experimentation from the distillers in Kentucky. Markets outside the U.S. are also causing the demand for bourbon to grow.

If you are looking for a nice road trip and the opportunity to sample some of the best bourbons available, the proud people in Kentucky have set one up for you. The Kentucky Bourbon Trail is a lovely two day, seventy five mile drive through northern Kentucky, from Lexington to Shepherdsville. During the drive you get to sample bourbons from Four Roses, Heaven Hill, Jim Beam, Woodford Reserve, Maker’s Mark, and Wild Turkey. Wherever you start your journey (Woodford Reserve is the closest to Lexington), you can get a passport for the Trail. At each distillery, you can get the passport stamped. Get all six stamps, and you earn yourself a lovely t-shirt, compliments of the Kentucky Distillers Association. Each distillery offers samples and bottles for sale, as well as non-alcoholic drinks for the kids. The tour times at each site vary, but most of the tours last between an hour and an hour and a half. If you want more information about places to stay and the trail itself, you can check out the Kentucky Bourbon Trail website.

Bourbons are remarkably complex in taste, and there is a wide variety of them throughout the Miami Valley. Some bars stock in trade is whiskey, such as Sidebar 410, where the variety of bourbon and whiskey covers a wide spectrum. The Pub at The Greene has a nice selection of bourbons, and for a modest price you can get a nice sampling of three. Most bars you will go to will readily have Jim Beam and Maker’s Mark. Woodford Reserve has been gaining popularity over the last few years, bolstered by the fact that the official mint julep of the Kentucky Derby is made with it. Knob Creek is found at a better-than-average amount of bars, and it also has a very lovely flavor. Other highly rated (and delicious) bourbons include Booker’s Small Batch (120 or so proof, right from the barrel),  Bulleit Bourbon (a heavy dose of rye in the mash adds a peppery spice to it), Buffalo Trace (sweeter and thicker than the average bourbon, with a hint of brown sugar), and Elijah Craig (another of the greats, with toffee and oak flavors coming forward) Most people who love bourbon will tell you that the only thing it should be mixed with is water or ice, but many people also enjoy it with cola or ginger ale. Celebrate the rest of National Bourbon Month by ordering one of these fine bourbons, maybe even in a Manhattan if the mood strikes you. Cheers!

The Classic Manhattan

2 oz. bourbon (any whiskey will do, but it IS National Bourbon Month)
1 oz. sweet vermouth
2 dashes Angostura bitters

Fill a mixing glass with ice. Pour all of the ingredients into it. Stir for 30 seconds to chill the contents, strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a cherry.