I remember the first trip I made to Dead Horse Point. It was in 1972, more or less, one of my friends was doing his conscientious objector assignment in Moab. I believe he was doing general psychiatric work and running the first drug crisis center.

We drove down to Moab in a big maroon Buick, the Riviera with the pointed back. My friend had just won $20,000 in Las Vegas, at the Sands, playing 21 on acid and he traded his VW Bus for the Buick. It was more suitable for a successful gambler than a hippie in coveralls. We picked up the wife of our CO friend, loaded the cooler with cold Coors, and headed out to the point.

The view was really amazing and we sat and talked, walked the trails, watched lizards and tossed small rocks over the edge. During the day one of the first motorhomes pulled up, really strange looking people, and their dog was even stranger - the first real Boston Terrier we had ever seen. This was decades before Spuds McKenzie. After an amazing day we climbed back into the huge Buick and headed East. It was hot, I open a cold Coors and it sprayed on me. It felt so good that I poured the rest of the can over my head and popped another. On the cassette was the new release Abraxas by Santana - perfect. When we got back to Moab we listened to Leon Russell - Shelter People in tow - and finished our beer.

The have been many trips to Dead Horse Point since that day but none had quite the symmetry of that drive in the Buick in altered states with the great music and good friends.

This is one memory of you Brucikins.

Baring acts of God and any other imaginary beings we should have our tasting room open in about three weeks. We have plenty of shot glasses - we ordered our own and we also purchased, at an antique store, some old guy’s collection. It is worth perusing.

I went “marketing” on Thursday. This involved visiting each bar on Whiskey Row, talking up the distillery, and personally demonstrating my ability to appreciate a good cocktail. We left coasters and shot glasses and a plethora of good cheer and good will.

When we first started the conceptual part of this enterprise I was opposed to the manufacture of rum. I couldn’t find a way, with my limited knowledge of Western history, to tie rum to our particular part of the terra. But one day I found myself rereading the Dominguez-Escalante Journal. These two intrepid explorers, Frey Dominquez and Frey Escalante, basically circumnavigated our part of the West. Those of us from these parts tend to always refer to Escalante first but actually Dominguez was the leader of the expedition. The Department of the Interior Grand Staircase National Monument was named after Frey Escalante. Of course they had Rum! They came up through Central America and Mexico and by the end of a dry, salty, parching day a draw of smooth, dark, soothing, relaxing rum was just the thing to wash down a strip of jerky or a scrawny jackrabbit at the end of a long day. While our culinary options here in Prescott are usually a step or two above the fare described above , we still need a cocktail with bitters or a shot of high proof bourbon to insure the health of our digestive system.

I recently dined at a local restaurant called BIGA here in Prescott and the food was fresh well prepared and presented. They also have a full bar and the camaraderie at the bar was in full swing. While Jackrabbit was not on the menu the salmon and the ribeye were great. Biga is an Italian word that describes the starter you make a day ahead for light, crispy Italian breads such as Ciabatta or Fougasse. Support your local culinary literati and visit Biga.