The din of the crowd waved by commensurate with the rumbling thuds of horseshoes hitting grassy earth. Dirt and clippings made a dusty wake behind the large speeding beasts. Simultaneously, so distinguished and yet, so barbaric.
She wore a wide floppy hat garnished with flowers and ribbons, white wayfarer sunglasses, a fitted curvy dress down to white pumps. Her blonde curls glistened like white gold in the sun. The grass was so green. I remember that. Always remember the environment.
“This is all so fake”, she says.
“It’s fun”, he replied. “Just a theme party for fun.”
“Who parties like this during the day? It’s ridiculous. No one does this where I’m from.” She bellowed.
“Well, you’re not in Kansas anymore, toots.”
“You’ll only get away with that once”, she sassed back.
She spoke to a man in teal trousers, a pink polo shirt, seersucker vest, and pork pie hat. I imagine his eyes rolling behind those oversized gold trimmed aviators.
The air was heavy and the beer was flowing on a spring day at Iroquois Steeplechase in Nashville, Tennessee while I puffed on an aged Dominican cigar in the pressbox. I fixated on this couple for some time in between races when I scribbled notes in a small book of looseleaf while the others utilized their phones or ipads. I still prefer paper. Call me old fashioned.
Presently, I meandered about the crowd under the tents of the party I was a guest of. There was a professional baseballer, an Englishmen, a spirits impresario, and a treasure hunter. Tycoons, dragoons, and lampoons. And me. There was me. Not belonging amid the beautiful few. There were beauties, too. Long tall broads in short sundresses blithely lying about on plush cushioned sofas under shade umbrellas. The getaway sticks on these dames making curves like the streets of San Francisco like to make a fella take the straight and narrow, if you know what I mean.
The horses rushed by again.
Koo-dunk-koo-dunk-koo-dunk-koo-dunk, they ran past alit with small men in khaki pants and chin strapped riding helmets clinging low and holding fast to their respective reins. Irrespective of the onlookers growing vapid as the afternoon sun burned and beer and bourbon spilled out of cheap glassware onto pastel leisure suits. I went and got myself a drink.
I gotta admit, the ponies were fascinating and the quick bacchanal of revelers, hackles raised as the galloping blew by, only to recede back into demurity, was exhilarating. For a moment I allowed myself to join the proverbial conga line that was this refined miscreance. Next thing I knew there was more booze in my hand and the faces of men and women alike laughed or smiled wide and toothy like the very equines we was watching gallop by. The crowd no longer followed their mercurial dither with each lap, but stayed a constant raucous of ruckus. Bellowing and blathering and joviating. The booze was sweet and earthy but cool and cigar smoke circled the heads of us daylight sinners like fragrant halos. I made the rounds conversing with many people and the air was thick now with heat and dirt and hugs and who knows what else in those bourbon induced disco naps that take place between moments of conviviality at times like these, like those, like thems.
When present again I said, “ok, doll”, and scooted a tall drink of water off my lap. The party was packing up and I saw them. The couple from earlier. She was crying now. He rubbed her back and periodically clinked glasses and made small talk with various associates. Networking. In my opinion, cast a net here and you’d catch nothing but a cooler full of idols and debauchery. I saw all I needed to see here, but to be honest, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again. So, i gathered myself and prepared for the afterparty. But, not till after I tippled another of those, what were they called? Oh, yeah. Mint Julep.
Ladies and gentlemen, (ahem), my name is Tony and this is Pod Tiki.
As I’ve declared this is going to be a year of classics. And being that we are deep in derby season it’s finally time to hit this staple of the stables. As I write this the Kentucky Derby was last week, Iroquois Steeplechase here in Nashville is this weekend, and Preakness follows next week. The perfect time for the drink featuring a spirit that doesn’t scream “summer” to me, but mix in some mint, sugar, and snow ice, and you’ve got yourself one of the not only most famous drinks in cocktalia, but one of the oldest.
The julep goes back to a time when cocktails were first being experimented with and began as a style of drink before solidifying into what we know and love. In fact, the style of drink it was was not even of the alcoholic variety. For centuries a julep was medicinal. See, the word julep stems from the Persian terms gol- meaning flower, and ab- meaning water. The word was gulab. As the tonic spread through Arabia it morphed into julab, then julapium in Latin. The modern julep pronunciation is thought to derive from the French subsequently making its way over to the New World in the age of exploration. Otherwise known as colonialism. Don’t worry I’m not about to go on any retro-historical virtue signaling diatribes. All jokes aside I really don’t believe in judging the past through modern lenses. Not to mention, despite the current political climate I rather enjoy living in the New World.
The use of the term for medicinal purposes goes back to the year 900 when Persian physician Rhazes described an elixir of macerated violets with water and sugar. Theories point to France being the first place flower pedals were replaced with mint leaves. And just to be clear, yes, I said the year 900. Relatively speaking the dust had barely settled on Jesus’ devine flip flops when over in Persia they were mixing up what would eventually become a Easter season cocktail. Talk about providence.
After centuries of having a medical connotation it was after making its way to America, as David Wondrich so eloquently describes in his book Imbibe!, that the julep became something drank for fun. In 1784 a Briton on holiday in Virginia observed men drinking “juleps made of rum, water, and sugar, but very strong.” Oh, yeah. That’s how we do it in the New World, baby.
The issue with origin of course arises because this is the exact ingredient list of that early cocktail antecedent known as the sling. Much like having a morning libation back then was referred to as “taking one’s bitters”, early Americans had a knack for making boozy beverages sound innocuous and commonplace. Extrapolation leads me to believe a sling with mint was merely dubbed a julep to normalize debauchery. Like when I tell my wife that Zombie before bed is simply a toddy to help me sleep.
Early drinkers were not blind to the coy use of medical libations. Juleps with alcohol had been used since the 15th century under the auspices of doctor’s prescription, but by the early 19th century we find the “mint sling” referred to for recreational use. The first written example of the drink as we know it comes from an 1803 book titled Travels in the United States by a John Davis. Quoting Mr. Davis, "The first thing he did on getting out of bed was to call for a Julep* and I honestly date my own love of whiskey, from mixing and tasting my young "master's Juleps." He goes on to explain the drink as, "*A dram of spirituous liquor that has mint steeped in it, taken by Virginians of a morning."
I believe that says it all folks. Nevertheless, by the 1820’s a Julep was a Julep was a Mint Julep.
As previously mentioned another evolution the julep experienced was its spirit of choice. Like many gilded age cocktails it began with brandy before bourbon came into fashion post civil war. Alongside its kin, the Sazerac, and many other pre-prohibition era cocktails, Juleps were predominantly made with French brandy. Which further upholds the French origin of the name. However, again like many other recipes before the modern age, Holland gin and rum were also common ingredients. I actually think some Appleton 12 or Diplomatico Reserva would make a lovely Julep. Almost like a dark rum Mojito.
There’s a bunch of reasons bourbon overtook brandy in the latter 19th century including federal grain surplus proliferating the rise of large scale distilleries, prohibitions on imports, and in the case of the south especially - a newfound pride in its native spirit which mirrored a general distaste, both literally and figuratively, towards the tawdry so-called sophisticated Europeans.
But, don’t get it twisted. While the bourbon Julep is synonymous with the American south, thanks to proximity, it rapidly spread throughout the nascent nation and was quite popular. Furthermore, it was not relegated to rural plantations. The bourbon mint Julep pervaded even the bigger cities finding its way into elite homes of merchants and politicians as well as seeping through the cracks of the seediest taverns.
We now know the basic recipe but, there’s one more distinct ingredient that makes a Mint Julep. The ice. Though there’s nothing wrong with stuffing a cup with crushed ice the modern traditional method is to use snow ice and pack it full and tight till it domes above the rim like so many snow-cones. So, when did this weird trend begin?
I couldn’t find an origin for the use of crushed or snow ice but, it stands to reason that as ice houses became a thing in the 1800’s it became a popular addition to cocktails. This we know. I have to imagine that in the south, where Juleps were prevalent and the heaviness of the sun is felt in greater proportion, the simple idea was to cool the drink. According to an article on gobourbon.com in 1908 the Chicago Tribune published an article in which one Samuel Judson explained to the reporter, “Take a silver cup—always a silver cup. Fill it with ice pulverized to the fineness of snow.”
Which brings us to the final defining characteristic of a Mint Julep - the Julep cup. In the early days silver tin cups would've been the norm. Today brass has become standard for metal cups. And I say cups because the brass or brass coated iron vessels used for a julep are not the handled mugs we think of for a mule. Julep cups are small metal cups a tad bigger than the size a child might drink from at breakfast. This is good as there’s so little liquid that an abundance of ice would dilute the drink too fast and too much.
My question, when I began research, was how the Mint Julep became associated with the Kentucky Derby? For any listeners not in the U.S. or simply disinterested in betting the ponies, the Kentucky Derby is a prestigious horse race taking place annually on the first Saturday in May in Louisville, Kentucky.
This has always been interesting to me. Kentucky is the home of bourbon, which has been commandeered by the southern U.S., especially the Julep. When I think of Mint Julep I imagine a fine southern gentleman listlessly swaying in a rocking chair perched on the porch of an Antebellum plantation house. Jasmine on a warm breeze. A dab of sweat blotted by a monogrammed kerchief. Perhaps a white linen suit. An open air carriage wobbles by with young ladies wearing flowers in their hair piled high under lace umbrellas. Pecan pie, sweet tea, and collard greens in bacon fat. A prize stallion can be heard blowing his lips while the heavy sun renders a golden tint to the rural panorama. A portrait of dixie.
Note: (In my idyllic picture there aren’t any racist connotations though I realize to deny such would be to dishonor the legacy of those who suffered the injustices of our unevolved predecessors. Therefore, please take my imaginative word painting in the spirit with which it’s intended. That is to acknowledge a decorous facet amid the preponderance of ignobility.)
I digress. What makes this odd to me is that Kentucky is not culturally associated with the “dixieland” south. Technically, it’s above the Mason/Dixon line. Now, before you Kentucky folks bombard me with comments; I have spent time in Kentucky. It’s the only place in the 2000’s you can still smoke a cigarette in a diner over your eggs and toast. So, yes, I know it’s the south. But, the Derby at Churchill Downs is really the only “Dixie” thing about it.
Truly, I love the derby because it ties into a love of pomp and circumstance like we do in Tiki. It even has its own drinking culture!
Notwithstanding that short sidebar, how in fact did the Mint Julep become the libation of choice for derby spectators? Well, once again, there isn’t any concrete timeline for its popularity among derby goers. Thus, we have to imagine proximity and culture played a role in simple evolution. As it often does in cocktalia. We do know for sure though that in 1938 the Mint Julep was officially adopted as the drink of the Kentucky Derby. 61 years later in 1999 Woodford Reserve became the official Derby bourbon. As of a 2018 Liquor.com article Mint Juleps at Churchill Downs are mixed up by Charles Joly, the owner of Crafthouse Cocktails.
And with that we are at the modern rendition of this voracious vernal vice. Which means, it’s time to make a drink!
The prominent ingredient in a julep is of course bourbon. Though there aren’t as many variations as our beloved rums, among connoisseurs bourbon is highly sought and debated. I am a whiskey lover. Living in Nashville, where whiskey flows like the murky currents of the Cumberland River, we are quite familiar. Any strip mall liquor store will have a wall dedicated to a multitude of bourbons varying in notes, if ever so slightly to the uninitiated of which I count myself, of pepper, grain, and sweetness. It’s easy for rum aficionados to dismiss bourbon as monoflavoric. Which, yes, is a word I just made up. I’ve come to realize it just takes an advanced palate and leather tongue to appreciate the nuance. But, the similarity comes in that there’s still a separation between sipping and mixing. To each their own, but I’m generally not making a Mai Tai with Hampton Estate and Foursquare. Although, now that I say that I very much want to try it. Woodford Reserve sits pleasantly in the middle. A very nice sipper but not too pricey, at around $40 per bottle.
Though this is nowhere near my first whiskey rodeo, (which sounds like a country song or a strip club, right? Or a country strip club!), admittedly I am not as familiar with bourbon nuance as I am rum. Nevertheless, I have a decent enough palate to speak intelligibly on the matter and in this regard I attest Woodford Reserve presents a smooth, grainy flavor with notes of toasted oak. The mild sweetness is less that of sugar and more like charred beef. This is a great bourbon that holds a unique place in where it is pleasant enough for the novice bourboneer, yet recognized by passionatos as a righteous contender.
Next we will need simple syrup, a reduced 1:1 ratio of cane sugar to water. I know I don’t need to say that for the five of you that tune in every episode but, I imagine someone searching out recipes online may come across this podcast with no prior knowledge of cocktalia. Perhaps you’ve never had a drink before! Perhaps you’re a fresh-faced Amish lad out on Rumspringa and this podcast corrupts you into not returning home to your enclave for 20 years as your family mourns you that is until they’re trodding along one day in early May in the ol’ horse & buggy when a Corvette screeches to a halt beside them presently the window rolls down with a waft of smoke and there you are wearing a leather jacket over a vintage Hawaiian shirt sure enough your car full of bombshells barely dressed in garden party attire are passing around a bottle of Woodford Bourbon and they hear it dim under the dither of laughter and provocative coos, that’s right, it’s this very episode of Pod Tiki.
Or, maybe not. Either way, let’s move on.
Next we’ll need mint. I suggest getting a bunch of it. If you’ve figured out how to propagate and grown yer own, bravo. I have had no such luck. Therefore, I have to go to expensive ass Whole Foods to get decent mint sprigs that aren’t all flaccid and whimpering.
The final ingredient is the ice. Now, ice is always an important ingredient, especially in Tiki drinks. But, here it has culturally become part of the drink. Although I have a bone to pick with folks who try to over state its function. Some claim the ice is imperative as it helps the drink change over time. I get that in an Old Fashioned or even a Zombie. But, a Mint Julep is 3 oz of liquid. If you’re holding a Mint Julep long enough for the ice to change the flavor it’s basically an accessory at that point. If that’s the case you better wear a mitten because the tin cup gets extremely cold. I believe my wife’s quote was, “This is the coldest thing I’ve ever held in my entire life”, and she’s from Minnesota.
Whether you choose to use snow ice, crushed, or pebble ice the dilution factor shouldn’t be any more than you’d get from stirring it in a mixing glass. Sure, you want some water to brush the flavors together and even numb the palate a little to ease that bourbon burn, but the ice is mostly garnish. A frosty adult snowcone to pacify the palpable southern air.
A later addition was Angostura bitters. Though not traditional they have begun to creep into a lot of classic cocktails as our modern palates adjusted to not liking such sweetness. Some cafe’s in Havana have even started dashing bitters atop their Mojitos. Which seemed foreign to me till I remembered I was actually the foreigner. I tried many different recipes and ways of preparing Mint Julep and I’ve come to like the addition of bitters.
Initially, the standard recipe of 2 oz bourbon and ½ oz simple was too syrupy sweet. In which case I understand allowing the ice to melt down. When I reduced the simple it was utterly too boozy. It wasn’t until I tried the recipe from Diffordsguide.com, increasing the bourbon slightly and utilizing bitters, that the drink came together for me. This recipe is adjusted slightly due to the fact that Difford’s uses the metric system which doesn’t translate evenly to ounces.
The official Pod Tiki Mint Julep is:
2 ½ oz Woodford Reserve Bourbon
½ oz Simple Syrup
3 Mint Sprigs
3 dashes Angostura Bitters
Crushed or Snow Ice
Place the mint in a tin cup and lightly bruise with a muddler to extract the oils. You’ll know when you start smelling it. Add simple syrup, bourbon, and Angostura bitters then fill the cup half way with ice and stir. Place a straw in the cup and pack full with ice. If using snow ice, pack a nice dome above the rim.
First sip? Minty sweet. Almost like gum, but only for a moment because then, there it is. That rich, earthy, oaky bourbon makes its presence known saying, “Oh, hello there. How’s it goin’? Take your pants off.” Personally, I never would have thought mint and bourbon, but the cooling herbaceousness helps bring out the malty, grainy notes without subduing the pleasant bite. We already know bourbon, sugar, and bitters play together cordially like opposing mob families leering at each other during a funeral, but the mint and ice are what differentiate this from its cocktail brethren. Think of them as the cousins who aren’t in the life but understand what’s up.
Overall, I think this is a very nice cocktail that deserves not to be relegated to a particular season or event. I’m a sucker for tradition so I understand having a certain treat associated with a particular celebration. But, you could eat pumpkin pie in June if you wanted to. Besides, bourbon is not totally foreign to the genre of Tiki. Trader Vic’s Port Light being a wonderful example of bourbon showing up in classic Tiki. Orange, almond, and sugar blend with bourbon nicely in a Kentucky Mai Tai, which I think I just invented. The volume and spirit forwardness of a Mint Julep gives me heavy ‘Ti Punch vibes in the sense that ‘Ti Punch is a small quick drink that could be enjoyed as one’s morning bitters, a midday reprieve, late night party favor, or tropical nightcap. In this way Mint Julep is similar and I think it’s time for a resurgence. Brunch has normalized morning drinking anyway so, why not add the Mint Julep to your southern brunch menu?
This summer I’ll be heading down for a weekend in Savannah, GA. Now, that’s some dixie. I grew up in two places, New York and Florida. Neither of which are the south. But, when I get to Savannah I will fully embrace my inner fine southern gentleman. I might boss hog out with a white linen suit, sport my seersucker vest and pork pie hat. The possibilities are endless for how I can embarrass my wife and daughter. But, one thing is for sure. I will certainly find a rocking chair on a porch somewhere where I could light up a big cigar and sip a Mint Julep.
My name is Tony and this has been Pod Tiki.
Sources: Imbibe! By David Wondrich, Liquor.com, Imbibe.com, diffordsguide.com, foodandwine.com, gobourbon.com, kentuckyderby.com
Most of all, thank you for listening and Keepi Tiki!