Derby Day, Juleps

Derby Day, Juleps
(From Charles McCabe’s column in the S.F. Chronicle, May 6, 1977)

Tomorrow is Derby Day, and I think of horses and Kentucky, and of mint juleps and of Lieutenant General Simon Bolivar Buckner, who was born in Kentucky, graduated from VMI in 1906, and was killed on Okinawa.

In 1935 Buckner was commandant of cadets at West Point when President Roosevelt visited there. FDR had made it known that he would enjoy a mint julep before lunch. Major General Wm. D. Conner, superintendent, pressed Kentucky’s Buckner into service.

Buckner did handsomely. FDR had not one but two of his concoctions. General Conner was so impressed he asked Buckner two years later for his recipe. A copy of his reply has come into my hands. Thus Buckner to Conner, 30 March, 1937:

“Your letter requesting my formula for mixing mint juleps leaves me in the same position in which Captain Barber found himself when asked how he was able to carve the image of an elephant from a block of wood. He replied that it was a simple process consisting merely of whittling off the part that didn’t look like an elephant.

“The preparation of the quintessence of gentlemanly beverages can be described only in like terms. A mint julep is not the product of a formula. It is a rite that must not be entrusted to a novice, a statistician, or 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 flower-strewn 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 wildflowers until it broadens and trickles through beds of a 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 or silver goblets, some spoons and some ice, and you are ready to start.

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

“In 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 decanter until the goblets are one-fourth full. Fill the goblets with snowy 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.

“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 furher. Sincerely,â€

 

Fill a frosted mug with crushed ice, pour in about 1/2 ounce sugar water, add a generous amount of bourbon and finally adorn with mint sprigs.

What a way to disrupt the flavor of a perfectly fine bourbon.