A Traditional Mint Julep, courtesy of Velo Steve via Flickr.

We watched the race – an intense come from behind victory by the 50-to-1 long shot Mine That Bird – from the anxious confines of the sports book. After witnessing the historic finish, along with the expressions of anguish and elation from the betting populace, we felt it necessary to imbibe the traditional drink of the Kentucky Derby, the Mint Julep.
 

I realize there are many variations on this classic cup, but when I order a Mint Julep from a nondescript bar in a casino, I’m expecting Bourbon whiskey. After taking our order, the bartender filled two highball glasses with light rum and Sprite, and topped them with a sprig of mint. “There must be customers ahead of us,” I thought, until he presented the two glasses to me.
 

“Here you go,” offered the bartender.
 

“What’s this?” I replied.
 

“Mint Julep!”
 

“With rum and Sprite?”
 

“Yeah! Mint Julep!”
 

“I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to have Bourbon,” I said, carefully avoiding any accusations of ignorance.
 

Another patron chimed in. “That ain’t no Mint Julep, buddy. Yer supposed to use whiskey, goddammit!”
 

“No, Mint Julep! Here you go!” the bartender insisted.
 

And so we went, with drinks in hand and a new appreciation for local interpretation. Who were we to argue? In Reno, a flubbed Mojito and a Mint Julep are one and the same. For a more accurate and tastier take on the Mint Julep, see this entry from Imbibe Magazine.
 

So as far as I’m concerned, Summer is Here.
 

Which has me thinking about summer drinks. Many a whiskey lover will agree it is a difficult beverage to tolerate on a warm and bright day. Same goes for brandy. Gins, rums, and tequilas tend to excel in these conditions, which is why so many of the summer classics – your pisco sours, daiquiris, margaritas, and the like – are based on these spirits. My favorite summertime concoction, however, is not based on one of the clear liquors. It’s not even a cocktail, by definition, but a highball.
 

I’m talking about the Pimm’s Cup.
 

Yeah, yeah, I know. Pimm’s is a gin based liqueur. But it’s far from gin… you wouldn’t make a martini with it.
 

Why I love this tipple so much, I am not sure. Perhaps it’s the fresh cucumber. Maybe the ginger beer. Or it could be the memories and anticipations of past and future trips to New Orleans, a veritable center of drinking on this fine planet. Regardless, below is my personal take on this classic.
 

Pimm’s Cup
2 oz Pimm’s No. 1 Original Cup
Cock’n Bull Ginger Beer
Fresh Cucumber
 

Lightly muddle a cucumber slice or two in the bottom of a highball glass. Fill with ice. Add Pimm’s, and top off with the Ginger Beer. Give it a stir, and garnish with another cucumber slice. Consume. Repeat until tipsy.

Understand that it’s the ginger beer that will make the drink. I’ve played around with a few different brands, including Reed’s and Bundaberg, but I find the spiciness of Cock’n Bull essential in separating my version from the kid drinks. Perhaps one day I’ll shell out the $2.55 for a single bottle of Blenheim’s, but until then…
 

“Well, if this is out there, think how much more is out there! This is the kind of music that tells me to go out there and be somebody!“

        Steve Martin, as Navin R. Johnson in The Jerk

About a year ago, a rather degenerate hobby was taken on by this author that sprouted from necessity. It had come to my attention that Liquore Galliano – that yellow, infamous what-the-hell-do-I-do-with-this bottle found in many bars – had undergone a reformulation, bringing it back to its original pre-1980s form. While I enjoy the new (original) Galliano, I realized the flavor I’d grown up with would soon be extinct, and that I must build an apocalyptic stockpile before Armageddon set in.
 

One cannot find old bottles of booze in high turnover shops like BevMo or your chain grocery stores. One must seek them wisely. El Camino Real, the old Spanish highway that defines the Mission Trail of California, is littered with small liquor stores along the Peninsula and into the South Bay. These store serve an important purpose in (sub)urban society. Lottery tickets, tobacco products, VHS pornography, and international calling cards are all staples here. Random items from both extremes of the Utility Scale are readily available; I once found fifteen (15) unwrapped Sandy Alomar, Jr porcelain bobbleheads next to the neglected and dusty bottles of giardiniera in an El Camino shop. More importantly, local men of the alleys know to come here for alcoholic refreshment. Cheap fortified wines, forty ounce bottles of malt liquor, and The Club’s Brass Monkey in a Can are hot items. Galliano is not.
 

Luxardo Perla Dry. Bums don't like this stuff.

Many bottles of Old Galliano have been recovered by the author in these dank establishments. The Galliano is not alone, however, as I’ve discovered a number of “museum pieces” along the way. This is where the miscreant hobby I mentioned above comes in, as I began collecting any bottle that piqued my interest. Bottle Slummin’, if you will. Some bottles are novelties, others simply interesting relics of a bygone era. A few, surprisingly, are actually drinkable.
 

One such find is Luxardo Perla Dry, which I happened upon on a recent Old Galliano run. As you can see, the bottle is identical to Luxardo Maraschino, save the label. According to the Luxardo website, Perla Dry is Maraschino liqueur that “is further aged to complete and round out the bouquet and to obtain an even greater concentrate that releases a high aromatic force. Highly recommended for use in pralines (truffles).”
 

Of course, I had no idea what Perla Dry was when I came across it. Given the $11.99 price point, however, I could not leave without it. My bottle looks nothing like the one on the website. And the ABV does not match either – mine is 80 Proof versus the 70 shown online. As the name implies, it is drier than Maraschino. And as mentioned in an earlier post, it makes a harsh Last Word. But in drinks where the Maraschino doesn’t play such a major role, it is a fine substitute, offering a subtle shift from what you are accustomed to.
 

This is easily the simplest project I’ve taken on thus far: Vanilla Bourbon. Prep work: simple. Maintenance: simpler. Risk factor: essentially zero.
 

Find an empty 375ml bottle (I keep plenty specifically for this purpose). Split a vanilla bean. Place vanilla bean halves into said 375ml bottle. Fill 375ml bottle with, oh, about 375ml of Maker’s Mark. Cap bottle. Turn over bottle multiple times per day, for 48 hours. Strain bourbon, discard vanilla bean. Serve.
 

Why, no, that isn't Chartreuse.

Yes, I do realize there is a commercially prepared vanilla whiskey available, but it’s not exactly bourbon. A Bourbon/Canadian blend, sweetened, and marketed to vodka drinkers. Not my idea of fun.

Vieux Carré Cocktail. Carousel Bar at the Hotel Monteleone, New Orleans.

Le Vieux Carré translates from French to “the Old Square,” and Bergeron supposedly created the drink in honor of the neighborhood us English speakers refer to as the French Quarter. The Vieux Carre pictured above was mixed for me by the great Marvin Allen at the Carousel Bar, located inside the hotel where the drink itself was born. As Marvin warned me, it’s more of a night drink, but feel free to mix one up for lunch today if you are so inclined.
 

Vieux Carré Cocktail

From Vintage Spirits and Forgotten Cocktails.
 

1 oz. Rye Whiskey
1 oz. Cognac
1 oz. Sweet Vermouth
1/2 teaspoon Benedictine
2 dashes Angostura Bitters
2 dashes Peychaud’s Bitters
 

Shake all ingredients in a cocktail shaker and strain into an ice filled rocks glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.