Nothing could serve as a better rejoinder to the anti-DEI madness coming out of Washington than this Sunday's Chef's Table event at Santa Barbara's Finch & Fork--BBQ and Bourbon with Uncle Nearest. You might know of Uncle Nearest--in 2024 Forbes estimated its valuation at $1.1 billion, making it the fastest-growing whiskey brand in American history. Black-owned, it's named in honor of one of the pioneering heroes in Tennessee whiskey--Nathan "Nearest" Green, who helped develop sugar maple charcoal filtering, a process brought from west Africa, leading to delicious, clean, smooth liquor. (It's also what separates Tennessee whiskey from Kentucky whiskey, but we don't want to go too deep into the distillation weeds, do we?) Green is a resurrected giant in Black history, which is American history, of course, no matter what some political idiots say. (Oh, he also mentored some other guy you might have heard of first, since he was white--Jack Daniel.)
The distiller today at the acclaimed Uncle Nearest is Victoria Eady Butler, Green's great, great granddaughter. How's that for a tale of what makes our country great?
The dinner certainly made a delicious case for the whiskey. The communal tables were laden with platters and bowls of smoked baby back ribs, smoked chicken, collard greens, cornbread, mac 'n cheese, baked beans, and chocolate cobbler for dessert. I passed on the chicken as I still have deep sympathy for the hens we owned long past their laying days and well into their ingratiating pets period. But the ribs were delicious, more bite-off-the-bone than fall-off-the-bone, but perhaps more rewarding as you had to work for it. I'm always a sucker for smoky flavor. The greens were not just appreciated as the only veg of the night but also served right at al dente, where you want collards to be. Similarly the beans were cooked but not mush, and I would vouch the pleasure of eating beans that retain their architectural integrity is undervalued. They tasted great, too, with plenty of red pepper and bacon to add more zip. We do a home mac and cheese featuring what looks like too much dry mustard and too much panko topping but neither is extravagant that is my Platonic version of the dish, so I don't mean it as a slight that F&F's straightforward version pleased if not thrilled. (You can please me easy--thrilling me is an effort. And no, it's not just because I'm old.) The chocolate cobbler was a fascinating, gooey dark cacao mess (in looks) that was a tad too sweet for me, but Chryss loved it. It certainly paired well with the final pour, a Single Barrel that is 121 proof. It's also as smooth as any of the other whiskeys of the evening.
Speaking of those, the reason Uncle Nearest has been so successful isn't just its terrific origin story. The stuff is delish. While most of the drinking involved probably 1.5 oz pours of the five Uncle Nearest varieties for sale in California (and CA is one of only five states where Nearest Green is available, so kudos to us once again!), the evening kicked off with a Paper Plane made with the UN 1856, their first product and still their flagship. Bottled in bond and a four-recipe blend, it's meant for your whiskey cocktails that need some oomph, or just for contemplative sipping. That Nearest Green is kind of the starter pack pour, a mere 84 proof, but certainly dangerously smooth--one could knock back a lot of it gleefully. Oddly the 1884 Small Batch seems a bit hotter at 93 proof than the closing, stronger Single Barrel, but as SoCal market manager and host for the evening Sergio Nicholas put it, "It's got bite, not burn."
And then there's the Uncle Nearest Rye. I'm a sucker for rye as I like its biscuit and white pepper notes and that it's not quite as unctuously caramel as bourbon can be. (I tend savory over sweet when it comes to taste.) As Nicholas joked, "You can't grow rye in the south--instead you sprout onions," and as most folks know, Canadian whiskey is a way to say rye whiskey--so that's where Uncle Nearest gets its rye, from Canada. It's blended and barrel-aged at the TN distillery to perfection, velvet smooth, crisp, with a long finish and richness and nothing close to a burn. It leaves its drinker with a big smile. I'll give you one guess who asked for seconds.
Somehow I left out the conviviality at the communal table--lots of fine conversations and the room's noise grew as the evening went on (sure, you can blame more whiskey being drunk if you'd like).
If this kind of Chef's Table sounds intriguing, Finch & Fork will be holding the next one April 2, a crab bake with chardonnay.
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