KIMBLE-ING
Kimble-ing is the art of curating a life well-lived. It’s not about luxury or excess, but about presence, play, and the pursuit of everyday magic.
KIMBLE-ING
Last Nash: Mocktails Tour (Bonus)
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What happens when your last night in Nashville is sober, intentional, and somehow more memorable than any night before it?
Two longtime friends — dressed in couture, not cowboy boots — climb into a silver convertible and set out for a mocktail tour of Nashville's best bars. From the spicy-sweet Prairie Flower at Otto's, to the replacement spirits at Mother's Ruin, to the transcendent Kimbeltini crafted just for her at Husk — this is Kimble's farewell to the city she called home, two days before hitting the road to her next chapter.
This is the bonus content episode that goes deeper into Last Nash — more details, more space, more story.
In This Episode
- Otto's — a converted warehouse, a black cat mural, and the first mocktails of the night
- Mother's Ruin — non-alcoholic spirits that taste like the real deal
- Husk — oysters, Southern vegetables, the Free Spirit, and a Kimbeltini made just for her
- A silver convertible, a rising moon, and the perfect Nashville finale
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It's hard starting a podcast before I could micromanage it to perfection.
I ask for comments, and maybe people are too afraid to hurt my feelings to say much negative, except for my ride or die bestie who shared this with me when she first tried to listen.
Imagine, air quotes...
"it's too much of an overly packed bouillon cube of information that doesn't have air to breathe and deserves more time and space."
Okay.
How do I fix that?
I decided to share some more details and extra clips. Between the monthly podcasts, just for subscribers.
This is the first of those.
The Last Nash Mocktail Tour is getting the space I can give it.
We were dressed for a girls' night out.
Not the woo-woo girl go-to of short dresses and boots. That's for Nashville's new crowd, the tourists that slink to the airport
Sunday afternoon, still hungover, remembering not much, but knowing the memories
would've been priceless. Those girls' legs are still sore from providing pedal tavern propulsion down Broadway.
Their voices are cracked from sing-alongs and corporate honky-tonks with famous names in neon.
No, we were in couture cocktail, and tucked into the silver convertible BMW that would take us on our ride through the Nashville bars, I hated to leave.
This was no ordinary night out. Since I've been blessed with the hereditary affliction of a cystic liver, this would be a sober experience, a mocktails romp.
We've heard great things about the mocktails around town. Nashville, known for local foodie experiences, also has a growing reputation for fabulous, and expanding alcohol-free culture.
It was time to try a few.
We pulled up to Otto's just as the sun was setting. I had stopped into Otto's one time before out of guilt and curiosity. For years, I drove by every day on the way home from work and never stopped. Earlier this year, my curiosity got the better of me, and I met a friend for a quick drink and a taco specialty. Because who doesn't love a good street taco? That would be another Kimble-ing Quest for another day.
On both trips to this unassuming converted warehouse establishment, we were greeted at the door by a grinning black cat mural.
Although I did not ask, as my partner in crime and I were deep in conversation at this point, I did speculate.
I do that a lot, spin a little imaginary tale as an explanation of the unexplained. In this yarn I spun for myself, Otto was a beloved yet precocious pet, or perhaps not a pet, but a neighborhood cat mascot who made himself at home in this space. It could happen. It happened to Tempo at Nashville SC. Google it.
Someday someone will clue me in on the real story, but for now, my curiosity was satisfied by my fantasy. Coco and I sat at the bar right beside the photo booth towards the end. We did not indulge ourselves with a four-shot reel of silly faces to commemorate the visit. The bridesmaids beat us to that.
Besides, we were already deep in conversation about the reasons and results of no longer drinking. We had a lot to catch up on. We'd both made it through, or were making it through, some very difficult times, with some extraordinary results.
We had some things to learn from each other over our first drinks on the tour.
What were those first drinks?
A mocktail version of the Prairie Flower, a spicy sweet combo of hibiscus, pineapple, soda, and ginger. And a similar twist on the 24-Carrot Magic, made with carrot, ginger, and a lime soda splash. The results? No complaints. These mocktails were not planned by the bartender. They were alcohol-free versions of standard menu options. They were tasty.
The vibe of dark and vibrant indoor and outdoor spaces enhanced the catch-up conversation. We laughed, resolved to leave our baggage behind us, and forge forward into our new eras and onward to our next stop,
Mother's Ruin.
This was my first mocktail excursion to this favorite bar spot in my former Germantown neighborhood.
Their mocktails went with replacement spirits that tasted like the real deal without the complications of forcing my liver from ailing to failing.
Tequila NA made some excellent sips. The taste was totally still there, but we could safely drive away to our next stop four drinks into the evening.
Both of us marketing experts were most impressed with the drink names on their menu.
If you're watching this on YouTube, you'll see the images.
Husk took mocktails to another level. No surprise there.
Salt of the Earth was made with a celery shrub, lemon, and soda. The Free Spirit 10, a GHIA apertif, pomegranate rosemary shrub, citrus, and soda. Now, I had no earthly idea what a shrub was. Coco had fallen in love with the concoctions on a previous trip to Michigan.
Our bartender was happy to explain this new concept to me.
What I am not new-ish to at Husk, is the menu.
I've been a Sean Brock fan since before there was a Nashville Husk. Spent every anniversary with Boz there for all the years since they opened at their current location.
And so Coco and I decided on this trip, we'd also have a snack. Oysters with miso butter for me. For Coco, a plate of Southern vegetables that included eggplant, fried okra, Lion's Mane mushroom with squash, and some rice Midlands grits, made vegan style. Our time at Husk flowed into hours. Our bartender offered to mix me a signature drink.
He asked a few questions, and then came up with my Kimbeltini.
It was hibiscus, peaches, Boz always did say peaches made me a better person, honey, and champagne vinegar. That Kimbeltini was nothing short of fabulous. Our hours at Husk wrapped when we asked for the check.
A flirty comment about dragging out our visit from our bartender wrapped up a perfect evening for us two longtime friends who met back in a different era.
That was a bygone time that would be recalled with stories of, "Back in my drinking days." We poured over old memories and new ones, we created on this night, reflecting on how far we'd come and how proud our former selves would be of these grown-up versions of us that evolved with intention, and hard work. Two days before I would hit the road to my new coastal adventure, I couldn't think of a better finale for my time in Nashville.
As we left the restaurant, we popped the convertible top, took one last look at the beautiful moon rising over Husk, giggled about the fun, flirty vibes on our last stop, and rode back across town to the home I'd be packing into the moving truck the next day.