The F train was running late, as it often does on a Sunday. As I was waiting on the platform, a small group of chatty elementary school-aged kids were being ushered along by a few adults, presumably friends who were taking their kids on some sort of group activity in Manhattan. As they passed me, I noticed that one of the men was wearing a gray sweatshirt with black block letters that read: “WHISKEY HELPS.”

I was on my way to meet my parents to see Daniel Radcliffe in the Broadway play Every Brilliant Thing. It’s technically a one-man show, however the schtick is before the play, the lead actor (Mariska Hargitay will assume the role at the end of May) ventures into the theater as it’s filling up and interviews certain audience members to participate in specific ways.

The play is a monologue told from the point of view of someone who copes with dark moments in life by making a running list of things deemed to be brilliant. The list is built all the way through adulthood. Specific memories are recounted in relation to the list, and the chosen audience members are cued to read from a scrap of paper representing a random numbered item on it. Others have more extensive lines on stage representing sketches of characters in the lead’s past life, either ad-libbing with specific prompts or reading from a short script. It’s extremely clever and surprisingly well organized. 

It really was brilliant. 

I had been stressing about what I was going to write this week. Suddenly, it made sense to tell you about a few things borrowing from this format. 

1. That sweatshirt. Last week I was in Louisville, Kentucky with my pal Tony Sachs. We’d been invited by our mutual friend, Joe Magliocco, the president of Michter’s. For years he’s said to me, “When can I host you in Louisville?” When I found out Tony was coming out this month, I asked to tag along. Great call. Not only was it a blast to visit Fort Nelson Distillery on Main Street again (my last time was in 2019), but we also got a peek at the Shively location, where most of the distilling takes place. Yes, Michter’s has operated as a non-distiller producer for a while, but there is whiskey being made by them. I’m not at liberty to say too much more about it except the operation is impressively well run, the methods are more meticulous than I’ve seen at most other American whiskey distilleries, and it smells so. Good. 

I don’t recommend taking such a trip with a back spasm, by the way, but I didn’t think I was in a position to cancel at the last minute. Day two was a little rough, but I managed. 

Once home, the spasms seemed to calm down. OK, it’s probably not the whiskey, but I think it did indeed help. 

Unfortunately, the photo of Tony and me with Joe is not flattering to any of us, so here I am last September at the Martini Expo between Joe (L) and his son Matt.

2. The smell of whiskey distilleries, especially near the fermentation tanks. Tony and I also paid a quick visit to Angel’s Envy where master distiller Owen Martin took us into his office to taste us on a few expressions in the works. 

3. Cocktail bars with drinks that make sense. Above Fort Nelson is the aptly named Bar at Fort Nelson, with a menu consisting of stalwarts (Manhattan, Old Fashioned, Fort Nelson Crusta, etc.) and seasonal items (Jam Packed: a strawberry-infused Sazerac riff and The Floor is Guava a rum/sherry Colada situation). There is also a separate menu of Juleps in the gallop to Derby Day. The drinks are balanced, the ingredients are purposeful, nothing is too over-the-top or trying too hard to resemble foods (I can’t stand this trend), or served with garnishes that meaningfully add to the drink. Also, they do a thing where they take a photo in the distillery downstairs and serve a rendering of it in the foam of a sour (see lead photo). Cute! 

   

   

4. A running gag. Michter’s Master Distiller Dan McKee is a hoot. He has a degree in chemical engineering and makes whiskey all day, but enjoys taking a break from whiskey nerding to discuss other topics. The three of us got into a few things. As we toured Shively, he would introduce Tony and me as “writers from New York,” but this intro got increasingly elaborate as we made the rounds. At one point it was “award winning writers and best-selling novelists” (neither of us has written a novel). I was kind of bummed that the tour ended before our Pulitzers were announced. 

5. Remembering the lyrics to a song I haven’t listened to in over a decade. After Shively, we were treated to a tour of Churchill Downs as they gear up for Derby weekend. We visited some of the stables, and as I watched horses chewing on hay, I thought of:

“Did you hear the one about Mr. Ed?

Well he said,

‘I’m this way because of the things I’ve seen

But I would rather count on your love instead

Daily eating my weight in hay.’” 

That’s from ”Apology For an Accident” by American Music Club. I’d forgotten how much I love it.

6. Steakhouse creamed spinach. Joe is very into the Louisville food scene. The first night was a table at M. Peppers, an outstanding bistro with damn good duck (this is my test of a bistro). The second night was Bourré Bonne, a hotel steakhouse that adds caviar to its seafood tower. The creamed spinach is decadently served au gratin. Is all that extra fat necessary? Look, no one goes to a place with “bourré” in its name for their health. 

   

7. Please & Thank You chocolate chip cookies. They are simultaneously chewy and crunchy, have the perfect chocolate to cookie ratio, a hit of salt so they’re not cloyingly sweet. They are perfect. And 6 of them are now in my freezer.

   

8. Wheelchair access theater seats. My dad needs a wheelchair now. The tickets to EBT are outrageously stratospheric. We were able to find affordable seats as long as my dad stayed in the chair for the show (lately he’s been transferring to regular seats). This was a good call. 
   

9. When a New York City institution is revived and it’s done right. After the play we went to the View, the revolving restaurant at the top of the Marriott Marquis which Danny Meyer revamped earlier this year. Speaking of creamed spinach, gone are the overpriced rubbery burgers and watery drinks of the old spot. Here the NYC steakhouse comes with a view of the Chrysler building. Toast to it with a yummy Suntory Toki Old Fashioned or barrel aged Manhattan. By the time it comes into view again, the wine, steak and sides (pricey, but not tourist-riffic) should arrive. 

   

However, on one of my walks today, I discovered this:

I went there practically every week. No one makes focaccia as good in the hood. Milestone birthday and anniversary cakes were always ordered there. I recently discovered the cinnamon buns. Bialys to rival any place on the Lower East Side. 124 years on Court Street, over with no explanation.

I guess everything can’t be brilliant, can it? 

10. Completing a task. (This one was in the play.)

—A