The Mint Julep, Beyond That Horse Race

The Kentucky Derby always creeps up on me. I never remember it's actually Derby Day — held on the first Saturday in May — until it's, well, Derby Day. Truth be told, I'm more interested (like much of the population, I suspect) in enjoying the one drink that is synonymous with our most famous equine race than in the race itself. When made well, the mint julep is one of the most august libations ever created and certainly one of the most refreshing. But rarely is it executed with the dexterity it deserves — and talked about beyond that foggy afternoon in May.

David Wondrich, the world's foremost authority on cocktail lore, recently revised his award-winning tome — Imbibe!  to include a lengthier section for the julep. He states that references to the drink as a medicinal tonic were found as early as 900 A.D., but it was around the 1770s in Virginia that juleps began to be enjoyed as a refreshing beverage, and he goes on to call the julep "the first true American drink."

In his book, The Mint Julep: The Very Dream of Drinks, Joshua Soule Smith writes: "The Mint Julep has aroused almost as much argument as the war between the States. The controversy over the correct receipt for making the famous drink has raged back and forth between Kentucky and Maryland, Louisiana and Georgia, and heated discussions, to say nothing of wagers, are likely to accompany the mere mention of the drink. [Yet] the subtle blending of cold spring water with fragrant mint and good bourbon whiskey and cracked ice somehow evokes the whole charm of the Blue Grass countryside." How romantic.

However, the last time I went to Churchill Downs, the home of the Kentucky Derby, someone threw up on my shoes. That was awesome. Unless you're lucky enough to be invited, or scam your way into the stands, where the South's bourgeois still wear monocles and enjoy an unobstructed view of the race (with bottomless champagne and juleps no doubt), then I would certainly hold off on making the pilgrimage. Best to stay at home, turn on the radio and pour yourself another bourbon.

Or a mint julep. It's a fairly simple drink to make, given that it only consists of three main ingredients: whiskey (though some delicious variations can be made with a variety of other base spirits), sugar and mint. There are, however, a few simple tips that us professional bartenders use to reach julep nirvana. But before we talk about whiskey — always a good place to start any civilized conversation — let's first discuss the importance of ice.

For most people, ice is just frozen water, whether it's destined for a glass of lemonade or an old-fashioned. But in the cocktail world, ice is of utmost importance to us bar nerds, and when it comes to the mint julep, that ice must be crushed. Without it, the drink just isn't the same. You could buy an ice crusher, which might set you back less than $50, although you could get a similar result in a more rudimentary manner: putting the ice cubes in a tea towel and smashing them with a rolling pin. Hey, it works.

Chris McMillan, bartender at Kingfish restaurant in New Orleans, is the guy to see for a julep in the South.

Once you've added your whiskey, fill the glass or mug halfway with crushed ice and mix well using a long spoon. Fill the remainder of the glass with crushed ice until a fine mound protrudes over the glass. Add an obnoxiously large sprig of mint and serve with a straw, always carefully placed right next to the bushel so you can inhale those beautiful fresh mint aromas. And there you have the easiest and best mint julep.

My favorite place to enjoy a pitch-perfect julep is in the ethereal back garden of Maison Premiere in Williamsburg. They throw an insane Derby party every year (recommended if you can get in), for which their cocktail guy, Maxwell Britten, curates a stellar list of julep variations that might include amontillado sherry, spiced banana syrup, apricot preserves or chocolate.

The best julep to be found in all the land, however, is made by the sure hands of Chris McMillan, a veteran bartender who will recite the lengthy poem by the aforementioned J. Soule Smith as he constructs his own version. If you make it to New Orleans, you can find him manning the bar at Kingfish restaurant. It's quite an experience, and he is quite a character. You'll never look at the drink the same way again.

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