It doesn’t take much to make a Long Island iced tea, just a bar with a bit of everything and the willingness to use it all. Not so the mint julep. Like the dry martini, this is one drink you don’t whip up willy-nilly.
And in the voluble South where it was born, the julep’s charms inspire gentlemanly disputation over the cocktail’s origin and proper preparation.
“The argument has more to do with pride of authorship and tradition than it does with what tastes good,” said Bill Samuels Jr., president of Makers Mark Distillery in Loretto, Ky. “Most people make a really horrid mint julep.”
This weekend, many of those conversations will no doubt recur over the 80,000-plus juleps served at Churchill Downs during the Kentucky Derby and its sister race, the Kentucky Oaks.
The word “julep”–derived from the Persian word for rose water–has for centuries described various sweetened beverages. The mint and Bourbon brew we know today may have gotten its start in Georgia. One claim traces its creation to Mint Springs, Miss. But the real contest seems to be between Virginia and Kentucky.
According to Samuels, the first written reference to mixing mint and whiskey appeared in Virginia in the 1760s.
“But that was with their native whiskey,” Samuels said, “which was rye whiskey. And even though the first real mint julep– that’s to say, Bourbon, mint and sugar–was made in Kentucky, we were just a county of Virginia back when it first surfaced here. So they kind of trumped us.”
Horses and whiskey
“Whether it got started in Kentucky, I wouldn’t know,” says Fred Noe, Jim Beam’s great-grandson and a seventh-generation Bourbon distiller in Clermont, Ky. “But everywhere I go down South they always hook it to the Derby. I’ve never heard of anybody ever drinking them in any of the other Southern states on any holidays or anything.”
As for the silver cup in which the mint julep is traditionally served, Chris Morris, master distiller of Early Times in Louisville, said that metal drinking vessels were common in early America.
“They weren’t going to break like glass and could be hung on a belt or on a hook by the door,” he said. “And we know that by 1816, a local Kentucky horse race was awarding silver julep cups as trophies.”
Of course, even for horse- and history-obsessed Southerners, there comes a moment when the genesis of the drink doesn’t matter nearly as much as how it is made. Like so many of the best things in life, the julep is essentially a simple thing, concocted of Bourbon, mint and sugar, with ice and a little water. But it doesn’t end there.
Mind your mint
Manipulating the mint, that’s the ticket when it comes to producing a proper julep. In the 1930s, Kentucky-born humorist Irvin S. Cobb wrote, “My grandfather always insisted that a man who would let the crushed leaves and the mangled stemlets steep in the finished decoction would put scorpions in a baby’s bed.”
Samuels infuses his mint in the whiskey. Noe pours simple syrup (equal parts sugar and water, boiled) over mint leaves and refrigerates the jar for 24 hours, then discards the mint. Both men believe in preparing a volume of fixings in advance.
“I’m of the opposite camp, I like to make it fresh,” says Morris, whose Early Times is poured in the juleps at the Derby (albeit pre-mixed).
“If you’re having a cocktail party at home, part of the fun is people sitting around the bar or the kitchen as you make this cocktail in front of them. It’s a very simple cocktail, and by making it from scratch for each of your guests, you allow for personalization. Some people don’t like a lot of mint, some do. Some people like a lot of sweetness to their julep, some might not.” If you prepare a batch ahead of time, “everybody’s getting the same drink,” Morris said. “You wouldn’t make a martini that way.”
Morris muddles three to six mint leaves and a teaspoon of sugar in the bottom of a cup with a few drops of spring water. He then fills the cup halfway with crushed ice, adds 2 ounces of Bourbon, more ice and a sprig of mint. And as most people do, he inserts a thin straw.
“Not one of those big, thick soda straws,” he said. “You want a small straw, you want to enjoy this drink very slowly. It’s actually a cocktail you drink from the bottom up.”
Cubes controversial
Locally, you’re bound to encounter mint juleps that are anything but tradition-bound. Bartenders at The Clubhouse at Oakbrook Center muddle the mint like Morris, but use ice cubes and top off the Bourbon with water. The Biloxi Grill in Wauconda makes its own simple syrup (adding the mint as it boils), but serves its juleps in a martini glass. There’s a bit of blasphemy in those cubes and glasses.
Which brings to mind the words of one Simon Bolivar Buckner: “A mint julep is not the product of a formula. It is a ceremony and must be performed by a gentleman possessing a true sense of the artistic, a deep reverence for the ingredients, and a proper appreciation of the occasion,” he stressed in a letter he penned in 1937. “It is a rite that must not be entrusted to a novice, a statistician, nor a Yankee.”
Mint julep
Preparation time: 10 minutes
Standing time: 1 minute
Yield: 1 cocktail
– This version involves crushing the mint. If that upsets you or your company, simply ignore that directive and proceed with the rest of the recipe. If you don’t have a blender capable of crushing ice, you can wrap cubes in a clean dish towel and pound them with a mallet or rolling pin; the towel will absorb water, producing snowy flakes. Adapted from “The Book of Bourbon,” by Gary and Mardee Haidin Regan.
1 ounce concentrated simple syrup, see note
6 mint leaves, plus 1 bouquet of mint (about 36 leaves, still on their stems, stems cut short at the last possible moment)
3 cups finely crushed ice
3 ounces Bourbon
1. Place syrup and 6 mint leaves in julep cup, metal shaker or tall 16-ounce glass. Lightly bruise mint with back of a spoon. Fill glass 2/3 full with ice. Add Bourbon; stir briefly.
2. Pack the glass with more crushed ice to form a slight dome above the rim. Garnish with mint bouquet. Insert 2 or 3 short straws so the ends barely reach over the top of the mint. (This forces the drinker to get his or her snoot down among the leaves, increasing the aromatic effect of the mint.)
3. Let stand until a thin layer of ice forms on the glass, about 1 minute.
Note: For simple syrup, heat 2 cups sugar with 2 cups water in small saucepan over medium heat. Simmer until completely clear, about 5 minutes. Do not let boil. Cool, cover and refrigerate. (The syrup keeps well.)
Tennessee basil julep
Preparation time: 10 minutes
Standing time: 1 minute
Yield: 1 cocktail
Here’s a tasty departure from tradition: a julep that substitutes Tennessee whiskey for the Bourbon and basil sprigs for the mint. Adapted from “The Book of Bourbon,” by Gary and Mardee Haidin Regan.
3 cups finely crushed ice
3 ounces Tennessee whiskey
1 ounce basil syrup, see note
1 bouquet basil (about 36 leaves, still on their stems, stems cut short at the last possible moment)
1. Fill a julep cup or tall 16-ounce glass 2/3 full with crushed ice. Add the whiskey and syrup; stir briefly.
2. Pack the glass with more crushed ice to form a slight dome above the rim. Garnish with the basil bouquet. Insert 2 or 3 short straws so the ends barely reach over the top of the basil.
3. Let stand until a thin layer of ice forms on the glass, about 1 minute.
Note: For basil syrup, tie 1 cup firmly packed basil leaves in a square of cheesecloth. Combine with 2 cups of water and 1 cup sugar in a medium saucepan. Heat to simmering, stirring to dissolve sugar. Cook, covered, 15 minutes; remove from heat. Let stand, covered, until cooled to room temperature, about 1 1/2 hours.
