Once a year, on the first Saturday in May, time slows down in Kentucky to a rhythmic, pounding heartbeat. All eyes turn to a single patch of earth at Churchill Downs in Louisville, where tradition and thunder converge in a two-minute horse race known as the Kentucky Derby.
Now you might be surprised to learn that I am not a fan of the Kentucky Derby, nor of the horse racing business in general. Beneath the fanfare, there is another story unfolding on racetracks across our state, one that is harder to watch, and even harder to justify.
While horse racing is often cloaked in tradition and the language of sport, the deeper truth is that this is an industry built not only on speed and spectacle, but on exploitation, suffering, and premature death. A business where human profit and animal welfare are often at odds. Horses are bred to be sleek and then pushed to run at a young age, before their bones are fully formed. But what happens when a leg shatters mid-stride, and the crowd gasps?
Too often, that horse is euthanized. Not because it’s the most humane choice, but because it’s the most cost-effective. There is no retirement plan for the horse that finishes last.
As you might guess, this is a very unpopular opinion in my state, where horse racing annually brings upwards of $175 billion to the state economy.
But there is one thing about the Derby that I love. It’s not the betting or the fashion or the call to the post. It’s the mint julep, the perfect Southern cocktail. Over 125,000 mint juleps are served at Churchill Downs over Derby weekend.
Before we get to the julep, we need to talk about bourbon. In Kentucky, bourbon is considered a cultural inheritance, a warm handshake from history, a sweet-sour-smooth sermon poured into a heavy-bottomed glass. A birthright.
We begin with the basics, or what is known as the Bourbon ABCs:
America. Bourbon must be made in America.
Barrels. Bourbon must be aged in charred oak barrels.
Corn. Corn must be at least 51%+ of the grains used.
Now all bourbon is whiskey, but not all whiskey is bourbon. Over 95% of the world’s bourbon is made in the Commonwealth, where the limestone-filtered water flows clear and sweet, the summers are hot and humid, and the winters are cold and spiteful, which is perfect for aging whiskey and hardening character.
In an age of instant notifications and same-day shipping, bourbon reminds us that the best things take time. It takes years, sometimes decades, for the oak to alchemize, turning raw distillate into liquid amber wisdom. It asks us to savor each sip.
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You can sip it neat in a crystal glass at a five-star hotel or slug it from a plastic cup on a porch swing at a family reunion. You can nose it, swirl it, pair it with a great steak, or chase it with a Moon Pie. And it makes fabulous cocktails, from the classic old fashioned to the Kentucky mule, which is bourbon mixed with Ale‑8.
Which brings us back to the mint julep. The ingredients are simple: bourbon, sugar, mint, and ice. But to make a mint julep worthy of Kentucky’s long tradition, you have to slow down.
First, the mint must be muddled gently, not bruised but coaxed, so its oils rise gently. The sugar is stirred in with care. The bourbon, rich and warm, is poured in reverently. And the ice must be crushed, never cubed, so it melts at the perfect pace. Not too fast, not too slow — like a good story told under the stars. A traditional mint julep is served in a silver julep cup, which allows frost to form on the outside and keeps the julep ice-cold.
In Kentucky, bourbon is a love letter to the land, written in corn and oak. So, raise your glass.
