A skip through Hop Town

Still full of endorphins after elk encounters at Land Between the Lakes, I needed a meal. The vast farm fields of western Kentucky flashed past. I could have gone all 78 miles between Cadiz and Bowling Green, but Hopkinsville was just13 miles down the highway.

Maybe I am a rarity, but I enjoy driving across farm country. There’s a purity to that driving. In late March following a stunted spring, the fields just began to hints of green. I passed houses where people have lived for close to two centuries. With a subtle shift from farm to city I came into Hopkinsville. The town was initially unassuming but soon revealed its plumage.

Hopkinsville, also called Hop Town, rose slowly from the plain. Boasting many blocks of well-kept Victorian homes loomed along South Main Street, Hopkinsville bore the look of the American small town finding a way to thrive. Hopkinsville still had important manufacturers, few more than Ebonite International, one of the world’s largest producers of bowling balls (yes, I looked that up).

Farming is still central to the local economy, with tobacco still a top crop. Despite smoking for nearly two decades, I never saw tobacco plants in the field until driving through western Kentucky. A pair of one-way streets – Main and Virginia – largely defined the blocks of downtown.

The rumble in my gut tempered my urge to explore. Water would not fool my stomach any longer. I had no idea where to eat until I crossed pink neon on a lime green brick hut among the two and three-stories buildings on Main Street. There stood Ferrell’s Snappy Services, a Hopkinsville institution since 1936– it would have to be, considering what happened to the American economy in that year. Was it open? It was a tiny place, with more parking spots than places to sit. It seemed too small to be true.

But it was – Ferrell’s did ample carryout business and had six stools for dine-in customers. I couldn’t remember any restaurant with so few seats. I saw other dining choices in Hopkinsville, but none as alluring as Ferrell’s. Two customers ate, another waited for a carryout order. During the 30 minutes at Ferrell’s, a half-dozen carryout customers came and went. I picked a double hamburger with cheese and a bowl of chili. They don’t serve French fries, but have pie and other sides to accompany their excellent burgers.

Ferrell's is still family-owned and has locations in Owensboro and Cadiz, the former home to the original 1929 location. The Hopkinsville location is on its second generation of family ownership.

 Ferrell’s burger reminded me of a Matt’s Bar and Grill Juicy Grill without the volcanic cheese pocket (see August 2017 Minneapolis blog) as well as the Bluff Burger from Scotty’s (September 2017 Scottsbluff blog). There’s just something about sitting near a hot griddle with burgers frying, an intimacy that goes beyond smelling burger grease on your clothes the rest of the day. Loaded with ketchup, mustard, pickles and onions, I immediately wanted another. I sipped a coffee while one employee worked the griddle and another worked in the small backroom. Two ladies at the counter's corner chatted with the grillmaster. A double cheeseburger, bowl of chili and coffee cost me all of seven dollars and change. People getting takeout often ordered three or more, and I could see why.

Any town nicknamed Hop Town seemed an obvious fit for a brewery. Hopkinsville’s first brewery was still a lone wolf. On the edge of downtown, a two-story brick building housed the Hopkinsville Brewery, its taproom and spacious patio. Eighteen months old and run by a husband and wife, they had eight beers on tap, including a salted caramel porter, hoppy red ale and a coffee stout.

The owners told me they tailored their beers for local tastes, which leaned rtoward sweeter concoctions. They had plans to grow their business, which was distributed to a half-dozen local bars. For now, their entire brew operation occupied a corner of the taproom. Beers aging in casks and whiskey barrels were spread around the first floor. The taproom had a full second floor and a broad patio out front.

At 2 p.m. Friday, I was one of four customers, all others local and enthusiastic about their brewery. Sometimes taproom staff tire of visitors loaded with questions, but not this place. The owners and patrons welcomed me as if I were one of them, and were proud of their brewery. I often advocate for the phrase Kentucky Nice. My experiences in Bluegrass Country have always been friendly, and Hopkinsville reinforced that belief.

With 70-plus interstate miles ahead of me, I had to pick any beer judiciously despite a full stomach. I tasted the watermelon mint wit. After a two-ounce pour, I went with a pint.

Beers aging in plain sight

The wit was a second take on a beer first made in summer 2017 with locally sourced watermelons and mint from the taproom patio. The second batch used watermelons acquired from somewhere warmer in the winter. I left with a small growler of the wit. It didn’t last the night, its 32 ounces disappearing in a pair of pints. If I need another fix, the brewery lies a short ride up the interstate.