Gin and Juice

Due to the fact that I have been either pregnant or breastfeeding for the last, um, four years, I have not had many opportunities to tell you all about great cocktails. Mmmm, cocktails. Here are a few patented Belle Waring tips for summer fun.

First, the Mint Julep. I have a somewhat unorthodox technique here, but put your trust in me. I was born in Savannah, Georgia, people. Drinking isn't a hobby in Savannah; it's more like a profession. No amateurs need apply.

1. Make simple syrup with two cups water and two cups white sugar. Bring to a boil, so syrup is clear. Add two big bunches of clean mint to the pot, along with four Celestial Seasonings Peppermint tea bags. Stir and crush around with the wooden spoon. Let steep for one hour. Strain and cool.

2. To make a mint julep, fill a tall glass with crushed ice and long sprigs of mint. Your nose should be buried in mint as you drink. Fill about 3/4 of the way with good bourbon. OK, 2/3 if you're feeling wussy. (Now you know why they get you so drunk). Fill the rest of the way with mint syrup. Stir well without touching the outside of the glass. Of course, this will be best in silver mint julep cups. I don't have any, so I have to impress upon my children's godparents that virtually their only responsibility consists of providing Zoë and Violet with at least six apiece. In the South, this qualifies as spiritual instruction.

Now, on to the Southside/Maidstone. No tour of American drinking could be complete without a stop in the Hamptons, home of WASPy drunkenness since time immemorial. Two words, people: cocktail party. Wait, there are also other words, like secret morning drinking and hiding bottles of bourbon in the tanks of toilets. But we're not focussing on that here. We're focussing on socially acceptable drinking of the sort that starts at 11:30 am, at the Maidstone Club. Hey, you've already played tennis, right?

1. To two cups of mint syrup (above) add the juice of 10 lemons and 12 limes, and two egg whites. (If you are paranoid about raw eggs, either leave them out, or cook 1 cup of the syrup with the egg whites in a double boiler over low heat, whisking constantly till mixture reaches 160 Fahrenheit, etc. blah blah ktl. usw.).

2. To make a traditional Southside, fill tall glass with crushed ice, fill 2/3 of the way with gin, the rest of the way with mix, and put a cocktail shaker over it. Shake briefly, till frothy.

3. To make a far superior Maidstone, the namesake drink of the fabled club, do the same, but with rum. Go on, spring for the Gosling, yo. You can float 151 rum on the top, but it's not necessary; I like it better without. (Or, if you are a certain cousin of mine who shall remain nameless, and used to go out with a local girl who worked at the East Hampton Pharmacy and was in charge of disposing of expired drugs, you can float liquid morphine on the top! But I don't recommend this at all, as it is both illegal and a very bad idea, etc. ktl. Also the hangover is brutal. Again, bad idea not endorsed by the authors of this blog, and I mention it only in the interests of comparative sociology.)

But what about BelleTM-themed drinks? Yes, I have invented a drink, called the Ginger Belle! Make it the highlight of your next gathering!

For each Ginger Belle, fill a tall glass with crushed ice. Fill the cup 1/2 full with amber rum. Add the juice of 1/2 blood orange and 1/2 lime. Top off with spicy ginger beer (like Bundaberg or that Jamaican kind.) Voila!

For my next post, I will reveal the secrets of Chatham Artillery Punch. When my grandmother Henrietta was a young girl, and her father was president of the Central of Georgia railroad, and they lived in Darien, Connecticut (don't ask me), he prepared this for a large gathering of the Darien elite, and the result was than an elderly Mrs. McGillycuddy had to be carried to her car, by her footmen.

Comments

[Matt McGrattan]

The 'Ginger Belle' looks a lot like a Jamaican Mule - the only difference being the replacement of a dash of sugar syrup with the juice of 1/2 blood orange.

Jamaican Mules rock - especially if you use a spiced rum (like Morgan's Spiced) or a mixture of white rum, dark rum and amber rum.

Rum and ginger beer is an inspired combination. Here in the UK you can get alcoholic spicy ginger beer - for an extra added kick.

[belle]

Good point, Matt. I guess I independently arrived at the same principle as the Jamaican Mule, plus the glamorous blood orange (but honesty complels me to admit it's plenty good without.)

[Mitch Mills]

Just curious, but why do you advise not touching the sides of the glass when you stir the mint julep?

And after several, how are you possibly supposed to follow that advice when making your next one?

[ben wolfson]

If you touch the sides of the glass, it won't frost.

[Mitch Mills]

Eh. Frost schmost.

[Carlos]

For reasons of class balance, let me mention the Janitor in a Drum from the Onion's late, much-lamented mixer column. IIRC -- and I might not, since I was its first experimental test subject, damn Korsakov's -- it was composed of gin, vodka, white rum, possibly a fourth liquor, and blue curacao. Served with a sprinkler.

Though when I was pushing a mop, it was Jack and Coke, all the way. And they said tooth enamel couldn't grow back.

[Matt McGrattan]

Two friends of mine did some experimenting with cocktails for New Year's Eve 2000. Both came up with variations on a theme:

[it might help to understand if I explain that the two mixologists were Irish and Scottish and this was taking place in Glasgow]

The Millenium -

vodka
tequila
absinthe

(in roughly equal proportions to 3/4 fill a tall glass)

top off with lemonade

The Great George

(this is more of a shooter)

gin
tequila
absinthe

to fill a whisky tumbler. Best drunk quickly.

Needless to say both are truly hideous - but have remarkable effects on the short term memory.

In both cases there's no real drunkeness. You just go straight from sober to doing very stupid things and then have no memory of the events the next day.

[Doug]

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. It is a rite that must not be entrusted to a novice, a statistician nor a Yankee. It is a heritage of the Old South, an emblem of hospitality and a vehicle in which noble minds can travel together upon the flowerstrewn paths of a happy and congenial thought.

So far as the mere mechanics of the operation are concerned, the procedure, stripped of its ceremonial embellishments, can be described as follows—

Go to a spring where cool, crystal clear water bubbles from under a bank of dew washed ferns. In a consecrated vessel dip up a little water at the source.

Follow the stream through its banks of green moss and wild flowers until it broadens and trickles through beds of mint growing in aromatic profusion and waving softly in the summer breeze. Gather the sweetest and tenderest shoots and gently carry them home. Go to the sideboard and select a decanter of Kentucky Bourbon distilled by a master hand, mellowed with age yet still vigorous and inspiring. An ancestral sugar bowl, a row of silver goblets, some spoons and some ice and you are ready to start.

Into a canvas bag, pound twice as much ice as you think you will need. Make it fine as snow, and keep it dry and do not allow it to degenerate into slush.

Into each goblet put a slightly heaping teaspoonful of granulated sugar, barely cover this with spring water and slightly bruise one mint leaf into this, leaving the spoon in the goblet. Then pour elixir from the decanter until the goblets are about one fourth full. Fill the goblets with snow ice, sprinkling in a small amount of sugar as you fill. Wipe the outside of the goblets dry and embellish copiously with mint.

Then comes the important and delicate operation of frosting. By proper manipulation of the spoon the ingredients are circulated and blended until nature, wishing to take a further hand and add another of its beautiful phenomena, encrusts the whole in a glistening coat of white frost. Thus harmoniously blended by the deft touches of a skilled hand, you have a beverage eminently appropriate for honorable men and beautiful women.

When all is ready assemble your guests on the porch or in the garden where the aroma of the juleps will rise Heavenward and make the birds sing.

Propose a worthy toast, raise the goblet to your lips, bury your nose in the mint, inhale a deep breath of its fragrance and sip the nectar of the gods.

Being overcome by thirst I can write no further.

(from The Mint Julep by Richard Barksdale Harwell)

[joe blow]

as the aforementioned nameless cousin, i hate to ruin a good story, but the morphine on top of the southside is apocryphal. the girl at the pharmacy only supplied maybe twenty demerols ("shit, demerol" - bob, drugstore cowboy) most of which were washed down by a few southsides (with the float). the morphine came from a different flame's dad's MD bag. which was placed on top of a screwdriver, and subsequently renamed a "pile driver."

[belle]

my mistake, cuz. consider me corrected.

[Ray Davis]

Being the crude scion of a long branch of wuthless crackers, my mint julep goes as follows:

1) Throw a bunch of mint leaves into a tall glass.

2) Throw a bunch of ice cubes into the glass, brutally bruising the mint.

3) Fill to the brim with bourbon.

4) Sip to the mint.

'T'ain't fancy, Miz Warin', but mighty coolin'!