Colonial America (1750-ish)
The Mint Julep: one that you’ve heard of, but maybe haven’t had properly. Most places make these with a packaged mix or mint syrup – for no good reason. Several ways exist for getting fresh mint into the whiskey, but there are masses of orthodox devotees preaching the time-honored muddling and ice-crushing technique that follows. Preparing this drink properly is a bit of a challenge and takes some skill. But you’re up for it, right?
Juleps as a style of drink go back farther than we have reliable records, as far back as 15th-century Europe, where a “julep” was a flavored sugar syrup mixed with medication. In Colonial America, mint juleps were first made with brandy, then whiskey as word got down south and stuck in Kentucky.
In an interview with Imbibe magazine, Chris McMillian, a fourth-generation bartender and local institution at New Orleans’ Kingfish, says the Mint Julep began as a wake & bake drink “in Virginia, where servants would bring them on silver salvers while you were still in bed. You would consume two to three juleps before arising, to fortify you against the malaise that was supposed to occupy the ether and make people sick.” I can’t imagine drinking three of these at any time of day, much less in the morning – our southern forebears were certainly made of stronger stuff. There’s also a great video of McMillian demonstrating his julep technique and reciting the following lovely bit of prose as he goes along. You don’t need to be as entertaining when making this for friends, but it sure wouldn’t hurt.
The Mint Julep
J. Soule Smith
In the Blue Grass land there is a softer sentiment — a gentler soul. There where the wind makes waves of the wheat and scents itself with the aroma of new-mown hay, there is no contest with the world outside. On summer days when, from his throne, the great sun dictates his commands, one may look forth across broad acres where the long grass falls and rises as the winds may blow it. He can see the billowy slopes far off, each heaving as the zephyrs touch it with caressing hand. Sigh of the earth with never a sob, the wind comes to the Blue Grass. A sweet sigh, a loving one; a tender sigh, a lover’s touch, she gives the favored land. And the moon smiles at her caressing and the sun gives benediction to the lovers. Nature and earth are one — married by the wind and sun and whispering leaflets on the happy tree.
Then comes the zenith of man’s pleasure. Then comes the julep – the mint julep. Who has not tasted one has lived in vain. The honey of Hymettus brought no such solace to the soul; the nectar of the Gods is tame beside it. It is the very dream of drinks, the vision of sweet quaffings.
The Bourbon and the mint are lovers. In the same land they live, on the same food they are fostered. The mint dips infant leaf into the same stream that makes The Bourbon what it is. The corn grows in the level lands through which small streams meander. By the brook-side the mint grows. As the little wavelets pass, they glide up to kiss the feet of the growing mint, and the mint bends to salute them. Gracious and kind it is, living only for the sake of others. Like a woman’s heart it gives its sweetest aroma when bruised. Among the first to greet the spring, it comes. Beside gurgling brooks that make music in the fields, it lives and thrives. When the bluegrass begins to shoot its gentle sprays towards the sun, mint comes, and its sweetest soul drinks at the crystal brook. It is virgin then. But soon it must be married to old Bourbon. His great heart, his warmth of temperament, and that affinity which no one understands, demands the wedding.
How shall it be? Take from the cold spring some water, pure as angels are; mix it with sugar till it seems like oil. Then take a glass and crush your mint within it with a spoon – crush it around the borders of the glass and leave no place untouched. Then throw the mint away – it is the sacrifice. Fill with cracked ice the glass; pour in the quantity of Bourbon which you want. It trickles slowly through the ice. Let it have time to cool, then pour your sugared water over it. No spoon is needed; no stirring allowed – just let it stand a moment. Then around the brim place sprigs of mint, so that the one who drinks may find the taste and odor at one draft.
Then when it is made, sip it slowly. August suns are shining, the breath of the south wind is upon you. It is fragrant cold and sweet – it is seductive. No maidens kiss is tenderer or more refreshing, no maidens touch could be more passionate. Sip it and dream – it is a dream itself. No other land can give you so much sweet solace for your cares; no other liquor soothes you in melancholy days. Sip it and say there is no solace for the soul, no tonic for the body like old Bourbon whiskey.
Hardware: Jigger, Muddler, Barspoon, Lewis bag, Straws (cut to size)
Ice: Crushed ice
Glassware: Old Fashioned glass or Julep cup
Spirits: Bourbon whiskey (recommended: Four Roses “Yellow Label”, Wild Turkey 81, Buffalo Trace)
Mixers & Liqueurs: Simple syrup
Juices, Accents, & Garnishes: Fresh spearmint
Using a Lewis bag, crush ice to a fine, even consistency by pounding with a muddler. In an Old Fashioned glass or Julep cup, add:
10 spearmint leaves
1/2 oz simple syrup
Muddle lightly, gently working the mint leaves and syrup around the interior of the glass. The key here is lightly – if you bust up the leaves, they’ll release bitter chlorophyll. The flavor you want is actually in the little fibers that coat the leaves. Fill the glass or Julep cup with crushed ice about three-quarters full, then add:
2 oz bourbon whiskey
Swizzle briskly to blend and chill, keeping the mint at the bottom. Mound additional crushed ice on top to form a dome. Garnish with a mint sprig that’s been lightly slapped against the dome of ice to release its aromatic oils. Serve with two straws cut to size.
Alembic, San Francisco (2008)
Daniel Hyatt at San Francisco’s Alembic came up with this one, a fine example of the West Coast “farm-fresh” style of craft cocktails – taking a well-loved classic (the Southside) and adding an element from the garden that elevates and enlivens the drink. In this case, fresh celery juice adds a neon punch of color and a subtle earthy flavor that unites the gin, lime, and mint just beautifully.
Hardware: Shaker, Jigger, Box grater or vegetable juicer, Fine mesh strainer
Ice: Ice cubes
Glassware: Cocktail glass
Spirits: London Dry gin (recommended: Beefeater, Tanqueray)
Mixers & Liqueurs: Simple syrup
Juices, Accents, & Garnishes: Celery juice, Lime juice, Fresh spearmint
Chill a cocktail glass in the freezer at least ten minutes.
Using the fine side of a box grater, grate a celery stalk over a bowl to produce juice. Strain juice to remove pulp.
In a shaker about a third-full with ice cubes, add:
1 1/2 oz London Dry gin
3/4 oz celery juice
1/2 oz lime juice
1/2 oz simple syrup
3 to 4 mint leaves
Shake gently to blend and chill, then double-strain into the chilled glass through a fine mesh strainer. Garnish with a large mint leaf that’s been lightly clapped between your hands to release its aromatic oils.
Don the Beachcomber (1934)
Southern California’s longest-running contribution to the world’s cocktail culture is the deliciously goofball world of tiki. The brainchild of world traveler and bootlegger Ernest Raymond Beaumont-Gantt (who later legally changed his name to Donn Beach), tiki was a melange of the authentic and the completely fabricated. South Seas cultural artifacts mixed with Carribean rum mixed with Chinese cooking, this faux-tropical getaway world captured the imagination of Hollywood in the 1930s and took off from there like hot lava. Tiki dominated cocktail culture in the ’50s and ’60s, then faded as late-’60s culture labeled it “square,” something their parents enjoyed.
Don the Beachcomber’s original 1934 Zombie was created (in all likelihood) as a collaboration with his four Filipino bartenders, who worked hidden away in the back kitchen, out of sight of the front-room bar (to keep the mystery and protect his secrets). One of those bartenders, Ray Buhen, went on to open Tiki Ti in Hollywood in 1961; the place is still there today, run by his son and grandson. In an interview, Ray called out Donn Beach’s authorship claim: “He’d say anything. He said he invented the Zombie, but he didn’t. Or hardly any of his drinks.” Donn’s recipes were jotted down in notebooks passed from one bartender to the other, transcribed in code in case they fell into enemy hands. You’d just have to know what “Don’s Mix” or “Markeza” or “Golden Stack” was to make the drink correctly. He changed the recipe several times over the years; not sure why, because this version’s the best. Potent and dangerously delicious, Don the Beachcomber enforced a strict two-per-customer rule on this drink. Breaking this rule has risks: in 1936, Howard Hughes struck and killed a pedestrian while driving home drunk after one too many Zombies at Don the Beachcomber’s.
The Zombie, with its ten-ingredient list, is a perfect example of a drink that is best (and maybe safest) made at home. Try to get one of these at a busy bar and you’re more likely to get a “pick something else” response. And if you do get a Zombie, it probably won’t be this one. This original 1934 recipe was finally decoded in 2005 by Beachbum Berry after years of research and experimentation.
You’ll need three syrups for this: grenadine, cinnamon syrup, and Falernum – a spiced rum syrup from Barbados (recipes for cinnamon syrup and falernum below, grenadine recipe is linked). Always best to make them yourself at home… but a great alternative is BG Reynolds‘ fantastic line of tiki syrups from Portland, Oregon.
If you’re going through all the fun to make this fantastic drink, why not serve it in a vintage tiki mug? Great finds can be had at thrift stores occasionally, or check online at Etsy‘s vintage shops.
Hardware: Electric blender, Jigger, Medicine dropper, Straws (optional)
Ice: Cracked ice
Glassware: Tiki mug or double Old Fashioned glass
Spirits: Gold rum (recommended: Appleton, Mount Gay, Cruzan), Dark rum (recommended: Coruba, Myers’s), 151 demerara rum (recommended: Lemon Hart)
Mixers & Liqueurs: Falernum, Cinnamon syrup, Grenadine, Pernod or Herbsaint
Juices, Accents, & Garnishes: Lime juice, Grapefruit juice (white, if you can get it), Angostura bitters, Fresh spearmint
In an electric blender, add:
1 1/2 oz gold rum
1 1/2 oz dark rum
1 oz 151 demerara rum
3/4 oz lime juice
1/2 oz grapefruit juice
1/2 oz Falernum
1/4 oz cinnamon syrup
1/4 oz grenadine
6 drops Pernod or Herbsaint
1 dash Angostura bitters
6 oz cracked ice
Flash blend five seconds to quickly mix – meaning just turn the blender on, then off again. Pour unstrained into a tiki mug or Old Fashioned glass. Garnish with a mint sprig that’s been lightly slapped against the rim of the tiki mug or glass to release its aromatic oils. Optionally, serve with two straws cut to size.
In a saucepan over medium heat, lightly toast 3 cinnamon sticks, crushed lightly. Add 2 cups sugar and 2 cups water, then simmer 10 minutes, stirring to dissolve sugar. Cool & steep 20 minutes, then double-strain into an airtight container to remove particles. Keep refrigerated.
In a saucepan over medium heat, lightly toast 50 cloves, 1 tablespoon whole allspice berries, and 1 whole nutmeg (crushed, not ground). Combine in an airtight container and add 8 oz 151 demerara rum, the peeled zest from 8 limes (being careful to not include any of the bitter white pith), and 1/2 cup grated fresh ginger. Infuse for 24 hours, then double-strain the infused rum to remove ingredients and small particles. Make a rich simple syrup of 2 cups sugar and 1 cup water and let cool. In an airtight container, combine the infused rum, the rich simple syrup, and 10 drops almond extract. Stir to combine. Let rest two weeks, refrigerated, for the ginger to mellow. Keep refrigerated. (recipe adapted from Kaiser Penguin.)