Corn Makes (Bourbon) Whiskey

story by Donna Hecker & photography by Talitha Schroeder

Take a meandering drive through the Bluegrass on an autumn afternoon. Watch for wide swaths of harvest gold, sandwiched between the black creosote fences and rolling green paddocks of Thoroughbred farms. Those swaths are cornfields, still stretching to reach a sky colored primary blue.

With sweet corn season behind us, you’d be forgiven for thinking these stalks are finished too. But look more closely and you’ll see mature ears of drying field corn, each dented kernel cradling a nascent drop of Kentucky’s native spirit. Because this is where bourbon begins.

Before Kentucky was a state, when it was still the westernmost part of Virginia, white settlers were required by law to plant a patch of corn to stake their claim on land.  By then, of course, corn had been growing in the Americas for centuries, cultivated by the people who lived here first.

The settlers were old hands at distilling and any corn not ground into grist, swollen into hominy, or fed to livestock, became raw material for making whiskey.  Corn whiskey produced in Kentucky eventually became known as bourbon, although the provenance of the name is still disputed. 

What’s not disputed is that 95% of all bourbon – and 100% of all bourbon worth drinking, according to any Kentuckian – is made in the Bluegrass state.  Or that bourbon is legally required to contain 51% corn. Or that three quarters of the corn made into Kentucky bourbon, about 12 million bushels worth, is grown on Kentucky farms, like the one owned by Nat Henton’s family.

Their 300+ acre spread in Woodford County is surrounded by world-famous horse farms like Pin Oak, Gainsborough, and Ashford Stud, but its origins pre-date all of them. Nat’s ancestors, who arrived in the late 1700s, were recipients of a large land grant. The Hentons farmed their land until the 1930s, losing it during the Great Depression.  Fast-forward half a century and the family homestead was regained in a land swap with a nearby horse farm.

Nat joined the Holly Hill team in 2003 as a line cook at Holly Hill Inn and stayed on for more than fifteen years, eventually working with our catering operations at Woodford Reserve Distillery and the Fasig-Tipton Thoroughbred Sales Co.  When the Hentons’ longtime farm manager developed debilitating health problems, Nat became a full time farmer and now runs the farm. 

A substantial portion of their land is planted in non-GMO field corn and every year they harvest roughly 35,000 bushels, most of it headed a few miles down the road to Woodford Reserve Distillery. A fourth grain bin was added this year, boosting storage capacity to 50,000 bushels, and Nat plans to fill it in the upcoming harvest.

The Hentons have supplied corn to Woodford Reserve for several years now, starting when the distillery built a row of new warehouses on former farmland.  During the approval process, there was much discussion about the distillery’s support of local farms and the Henton family has sold corn to Woodford ever since.

LIke many family farms that can’t afford expensive equipment, the Henton farm partners with a larger one for access to needed resources.  Nat’s father Hoppy Henton was lifelong friends with the late Don Holcomb of Walnut Grove Farm, which farms land throughout Kentucky and northern Tennessee. 

Today, Walnut Grove plants and harvests the Henton corn crop. And as a result of the long-standing relationship between the Hentons and the Holcombs, thousands of acres around Woodford County are planted in corn and other grains, often tucked away behind pastures or alongside creeks.

Before corn can be made into bourbon, its moisture level has to meet the distiller’s standards.  For Woodford Reserve to buy his corn, Nat says its moisture level can’t exceed 15-15.5%.  “We want it as dry as we can get it.  If it’s above that point when we harvest, we have to apply heat to it.  And then we’re gonna have to spend more money to dry the corn down.  So the plan is to let nature do its thing, let it dry in the field down to maybe 16 and, if we get to 15, great.”

Nat shakes his head over the time he relied on a handheld tester to check the level before learning it wasn’t the most accurate instrument.  Now he triple checks with multiple sensors and points out that the only meter that really matters is the one at Woodford Reserve.

LIke any good farm, the Hentons’ is diversified.  There’s cattle, tobacco, hay, wheat and soy, and Nat’s sister Natalie Henton Lyster boards polo ponies. They’re adding a small sheep herd early next year. And Nat might resurrect his Nat’s Big Shrimpin’ business once he can get around to repairs on the shrimp pond. 

But corn keeps them going and bourbon keeps corn going. On a recent trip to Granor Farm for a corn and bourbon-centric dinner, we listened to a conversation between Chef Ouita Michel and Granor’s Wesley Rieth, who oversees their grain fields. As Wesley said, “ Corn feels like wealth.  It’s money in the bank for our rural economy.”

For Nat and Natalie and their families, the question is, “What are we going to do to keep moving forward?  To generate income and keep this place around for our kids?  We’re really lucky to be able to live here.  And our children get to grow up and play on the farm and even come help every now and then.”

Perhaps the answer is to keep drinking Kentucky bourbon.  And to remember that corn makes whiskey and that each tiny kernel is just bourbon in its embryo stage.

 

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Hewing to Heritage

Tobacco sticks once transported burley leaves from field to barn and barn to market. A few of them now support shelves sawn from salvaged wood, and frame delicate watercolors on the walls of our Holly Hill Cooking Studio.

 

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