Sometimes, a girl just needs to sit quietly and have a nice drink. Or three.

My distillery tours for my book project, “Distilling the South,” have now hit four states (North Carolina, South Carolina, Alabama and Florida). The list of places I’ve visited is around 18 and growing.

But in the middle of all that, I took time for the two trips that involve my yearly duties with the James Beard Foundation awards. First, to New York in late April for the media awards (call BBJ in shorthand, for Books, Broadcast and Journalism). Then, a week later, to Chicago for the biggies, the chef and restaurant awards (shorthand: the Gala) at the Lyric Theater.

My first night in New York, I grabbed a spare hour for a stop at a bourbon club I’ve had on my list for a while, Maysville, 17 W. 26th St.

Named for the town in Kentucky, the theme is obvious. In case you miss the Bluegrass State connection, the artwork features giant charcoal sketches of horses. But they could skip all the pictures, because the real work of art here is the shelves behind the bar: Hundreds of bottles, almost all of them bourbons, ryes and whiskeys.

The selection is crazy good, not just all the well-known players, but a good number of more obscure craft distilleries. I spotted several that are on my list to visit for the book: Corsair Ryemageddon, Copper Fox, Catoctin. And others I haven’t heard of (yet): Pine Barren, Coppersea, Hill Rock.

How to choose? Luckily, the bartenders appear to be well-versed. I started with a Sazerac made with Old Overholt rye and ordered a platter of their chicken liver mousse. Excellent drink, of course, although the mousse was a little softer than I like. But it comes with mini English muffins, and they watch your plate, bringing fresh, warm ones when you run low.

Next: A 2-ounce pour of Whistle Pig, which helped me strike up a conversation with bar manager Jason Kraft. (Maybe it’s just my imagination, but I seem to get the attention of the more serious bartenders when I specify one cube in my drink. Maybe it lets them know I’m serious about my bourbons. Or maybe they realize that people who take their ice seriously might take tips seriously, too.)

After a nice conversation about the curation of the bar’s selection, I decided not to stop at two drinks(!) and let Kraft pick my last pour. He reached for one of his own favorites, Henry McKenna 10-year single barrel. Serious notes of orange and maple. It had so much flavor, it was almost chewy. Excellent choice, sir. And I hope your tip reflected that.

The chicken liver mousse was a little soft for my tastes (I like a dense, fudgy texture in my hen liver), but the mini English muffins are a nice touch.