Meet Sophia

The warm sun hangs high over the Kentucky countryside, the sweet aroma of aging whiskey floating on the breeze. It’s carried from the nearby rickhouse, where barrels of bourbon sit quietly in oak, waiting for their time to come.

Stepping out of the car, I smooth the wrinkles that have formed in my sundress. The scenic drive down from Cincinnati was a short two hours, and I promised myself I’d stop at a few attractions on my way home next week. But right now, my mind is elsewhere.

I’ve spent years piecing together fragments of a story—one that’s been passed down through my family like a half-finished melody. My great-grandfather’s name was a mystery, his past woven into the lyrics of jazz songs my great-grandmother used to sing.

My grandfather had tried to unravel it in the book he wrote, but there were still gaps, missing pieces that haunted him. He spent years chasing leads, searching through old records, and clinging to the fading recollections his mother had shared. When he spoke about it, there was always a quiet frustration beneath his words, a longing to give his father the identity he had been denied. He had died never knowing the full truth, and now, I felt like it was my turn to pick up where he left off. That’s why I’m here. Hollow Oak Distillery might hold the answers I’ve been searching for.