Lexington, sorta

Day 2 of my Journey of the Spirit to the Rolex Kentucky Three-Day Event.

Although technically a trip to Lexington, Kentucky, a trip to Rolex means spending every waking hour at the Kentucky Horse Park.

Map of KHP by Spence Mallard

Despite years of visits, I can only offer three places in Lexington that I have done more than drive past:

Hunt-Morgan House
A slice-of-life, restored mansion that was home to both a Confederate General and the first Kentuckian to win a Nobel Prize (Physiology, 1933). Ably staffed by volunteers, including the generous souls who tolerated a Yankee in their midst at all those mint julep testing sessions over the years.

DeSha’s
A vortex in the center of town. You will eat there. Resistance is futile. To accommodate you and everyone you know, the restaurant has warrens of rooms extending into most of the buildings on the block. It’s not just an institution, it’s an octopus.

Dudley’s
The crowd is tres See & Be Seen, but the chefs are brilliant and the waiters supportive of a scruffy, solo diner who’s just there for the food.

[Addendum April 25
Joseph-Beth Booksellers
One of the great bookstores in this country. How could I forget? Babysitting a lame mare must be disordering my mind more than I realize.]

LINKS
Entries & handicapping thereof, as only Jimmy Wofford can.
[4/26 Apologies. The Wofford link is to 2011, as it says in big black numbers. Blame the mare.]

Rolex K3DE Featured Rider blogs
Doug Payne
James Alliston
Jan Byyny

Coverage
Rolex K3DE
Eventing Nation
The Chronicle of the Horse, Eventing

Photography
Clix

Where did you have your best meal ever?

3 thoughts on “Lexington, sorta

  1. You’re forgetting Jalapeno’s, where I end up eating at least one night every year. One peculiar thing about Canada is that we have a dearth of good Mexican restaurants. Jalapeno’s, therefore, is something of a destination for me: fabulous seafood enchiladas, better-than-average margaritas, and the place is always packed with riders.

    1. Yes. Plus Old Kentucky Chocolates and the Liquor Barn, where I used to rack up charges that caused my credit card company to hyperventilate. Seriously. One year, they called Greg and asked if the card had been stolen. He said, “No, that just my wife.”

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