The Gift of an Unproductive Monday (And a Four Roses Pick)

We just got back from Four Roses, one of our favorite places in the whiskey world. We went to pick a barrel of whiskey (that is, purchase an entire barrel that is then bottled exclusively for us). The whiskeys of Four Roses are some of the most unique in that there are 10 recipes to choose from and that they are much older (around ten years old) than the majority of American whiskey you'll find on the shelf. On this visit, we were able to take a few friends. One of those friends wrote a piece about it–his first barrel pick. It's worth a read. Whiskey is about more than the juice in the bottle.

We still have a few bottles of our Four Roses single barrel on the shelf. See the link to purchase below. And keep your eye out this fall for a fun Four Roses surprise.

The Gift of an Unproductive Monday

(And a Four Roses Pick)

On a Monday morning, at the quiet beginning of a new month, I was gathered up from my house – and from the familiar, predictable tracks of my daily routine – by my closest friend since childhood. He arrived in his own time, predictably late, bearing the heavy, slow-moving fatigue of a long weekend spent amid the noise and engine-roar of the Nashville Superspeedway. In the plainest terms, he was hungover from the NASCAR race weekend.

A few days before, he had sent a simple message: an unexpected opening had cleared on his journey to select a Single Barrel of Four Roses, and he wanted me there beside him. It was an invitation he had extended many times over the years, and one I had always, with a sort of dutiful regret, declined. The modern world has trained me to believe that my life belongs first to my schedule. The heavy constraints of obligation, paired with the stubborn notion that a Monday must always be sacrificed to the idol of "productivity," had always triumphed over the simple desire to say yes. But on this day, pulled by some sudden, saving impulse, I chose to step off the track.

By midday, we met our pick companions at a dive bar in Kentucky. For a man accustomed to the harness of a structured work week, it took some time to let go of the morning's invisible urgency. The anxiety of the unmade day slowly dissolved, replaced by the ancient, comforting medicine of good tobacco, a few cold beers, and the slow, wandering talk of philosophy and life that only friends can share.

We finished our lunch and made our way over to Four Roses for the pick, where the discussion and experience was centered around the juice, yes, but the narrative was about patience, place, and things that cannot be rushed.

As we tasted through the barrels with Mandy (Four Roses’ beloved single barrel selection guide), looking for the one that spoke to us, I realized that good bourbon requires the exact same thing I had fought so hard to give myself: time. The rush of the modern world finally faded completely. We weren’t just picking a bottle to share; we were marking a moment where we chose to stop counting the hours and finally started living them.

The bottle is great, but what the bottle represents is the deliberate choice to slow down and show up for the people who matter. Every pour from this barrel will be a quiet reminder that the world can wait, that productivity is a poor substitute for presence, and that some of the best days of our lives are the ones we almost said no to. It’s a liquid testament to an unproductive Monday well spent, lifelong friendship, and the simple grace of stepping off the track, if only for a moment.

To presence,

Michael Follis