On a cloudy November morning about seven years ago, I huddled shoulder-to-shoulder with a group of Castle & Key employees inside the distillery's wrought iron gates. It wasn't quite winter weather, but the air in Frankfort, Ky., was cool enough that our collective breath formed a tiny cloud of steam that hovered around our faces. Finally, the gates opened, and some greeted the entering delivery truck with a small, but hearty cheer.
The hatch-door of the truck was backed up to a small metal basin, and head distiller Marianne Eaves readied her iPhone to record. Within a few seconds, the hatch opened. Fat, dried corn kernels — which were the color of fresh buttermilk — pelted into the basin. Slowly at first with a heavy plunk-plunk, then more quickly until the sound of grain hitting metal roared like some kind of mechanical wave.
