Instant Mint Julep

This is what the syrup looks like neat

I found myself with a glut of fresh mint after one of the Candlelight Club events. I don’t like to see food go to waste, so I’ll usually round up all the left-over ingredients and cart them home. (After Halloween, in addition to the flesh cut from the giant jack-o-lanterns, I also brought home half a dozen squashes of various kinds, which had been bought for decoration—and I’m pleased to say we made our way through all of them.)

Obviously fresh herbs won’t keep for that long, and there is only so much tabbouleh a man can eat, so I hit upon the idea of making a mint-flavoured syrup.

The Mint Julep is a classic—nay, the classic—drink of the American South, but I’ve always struggled to make satisfactory examples at home. The general idea is that you mash fresh mint at the bottom of a glass with sugar or sugar syrup before adding whiskey and lots of ice; but I always find the mint flavour elusive and the mangled shrubbery in the glass a bit unsightly.

So for this experiment I infused the mint into the syrup ahead of time, kept it in the fridge and just added it to bourbon on the rocks to make the drink. And it worked extremely well.

I did this a few months ago, so I’m a bit hazy on the proportions but I think I measured about 400 ml of granulated sugar and 200 ml or water and heated them in a pan till all the sugar was dissolved. I added two rough handfuls of mint and left it on a low simmer. I can’t quite remember exactly how long I left it—certainly no more than 30 minutes, and to be honest by the end I was sure I wouldn’t want to leave it any longer, as the mint was just starting to take on a cooked flavour. I strained and bottled it. And the result was a julep with a clearer mint flavour and no bits of greenery floating around.

To be honest, I have heard that at the Kentucky Derby—of which the Mint Julep is the official drink—they use a mint syrup, perhaps just for speed and efficiency, though I don’t know if any fresh mint is involved with that or just a commercial essence.

One caveat is that although it keeps quite well without the flavour changing, it won’t last forever. After a few months the flavour is somehow not as fresh and, like all syrups, it is at risk of mould.* And to be honest I don’t drink juleps that often, so it does tend to hang around here. But if you do have a julep habit, then you should consider making a batch of this stuff at the beginning of the summer.

———

UPDATE 23rd June 2022: I later made a second batch and this time I muddled the fresh mint continuously for five minutes in the simmering syrup, then strained it immediately. I think this is a better bet, as the flavour was no less strong, but you avoid any hint of a “cooked” mint taste.

A julep made with the mint syrup (in the jug to the right). It should really be crushed ice.

* The hardiest syrup I make is grenadine. This is traditionally made from pomegranate juice, but I was surprised to see that commercial grenadine today is mostly made from red berries. Since you can buy 100% fresh pomegranate juice in the supermarket (ever since the pomegranate was declared a super-food), it was easy enough to experiment with. For simple syrup I normally blend two-thirds sugar with one-third water, but I found that using the same ratio with pomegranate juice actually produced something that set solid at room temperature—perhaps there is pectin or something in the juice. However, at 1:1 it words a treat. The resulting syrup has a certain tannic tartness that balances the sweetness and makes it a very useful cocktail ingredient if you don’t have a massively sweet tooth. And, kept in the fridge, it seems to last an extremely long time.

A garden of bourbon delights

Mrs H. pointed out that we had mint growing in the garden, something that I admit hadn’t really sunk in before (I am not the green-fingered type). In fact more than once I have gone to buy some herb or other only for her to show me later that it was actually growing ten feet from the kitchen door.

So I did what any gentleman would do, and made a mint julep. I mention this only really to share with you my intense satisfaction with it: every now and then you make a cocktail where everything falls into place, as if for the first time you truly see what it is all about.

Juleps in waiting: some of the leaves that got away… this time

I took five leaves of mint and put them in a tumbler with about a teaspoon of sugar syrup,* maybe a teaspoon and a half, and muddled it. Then I filled the glass with ice** and added an undisclosed quantity of Four Roses (I used the Single Barrel, which was perhaps extravagant, though it worked well), then stirred.

You get a fresh, pungent aroma from the mint that you simply don’t get from things that are “mint-flavoured”, and this mint had been only a couple of minutes off the plant. The drink was sweetened, but not sweet, and the character of the whisky shone through. The Single Barrel is bottled at 50% so it can take a bit of dilution from the ice without seeming at all watery (and this ice adds no flavour of its own), though I tried the same recipe the next night with the Four Roses Small Batch and it worked well too.

I think I should try using more things from the garden in drinks—though I fear that it may be some years before the fruit of the lemon tree I gave Mrs H. last month will be sliced in our gin and tonics…***

* This was actually commercial syrup from Monin but you can make it yourself easily enough. Ed McAvoy (then Jameson brand ambassador) showed me the simplest way to do it: using a funnel fill a bottle, such as an empty wine or spirit bottle, two-thirds full with dry granulated sugar, then boil a kettle and carefully top the bottle up, before corking it and shaking it vigorously till the sugar dissolves.

** I used ice made in an ice tray with Isbre spring water.

*** And not everything from the garden is good to put in your drink. A few winters ago, inspired by DBS’s post about using snow in drinks, I padded out into the frosty garden and scooped some fresh snow off a plant to make a julep or an absinthe frappé or some such. I forget the actual cocktail, but I vividly remember how astonishingly repulsive it was, full of strong, weird, off flavours, sour and flat, dirty and choking. To this day I cannot understand how water than has fallen frozen from the sky and landed on a leaf can have acquired such a taste, unless the air in London is seriously polluted.

A word about the Deadly Yellow Snow

A Deadly Yellow Snow in its simplest form

Reading DBS's post about his snowball experiments last night inspired me to go out and scoop up a pint glass of virgin snowflakes from the garden and attempt my own Snow Julep.

Like David I found that it pretty much impossible to drink without a straw—the liquid just sulks at the bottom of the powder.

The only solution I found was to mash the whole thing up with a spoon, producing, in effect, a Bourbon Slurpee. This looks rather pretty and holds its consistency very well: I can imagine it being a great thing to suck on of a hot summer's day.

Mind you, as I sat reading in bed last night nursing one of these concoctions I couldn't help thinking to myself that it actually wasn't very nice: it had unpleasant, bitter overtones that I put down to the mint that I found in the fridge not being in the first flush of youth.

But when I came down this morning I idly sipped the melted snow in the pint glass, expecting something, well, pure as the driven snow. In fact it was really foul, with horrible stale, dusty flavour. My wife thinks that foxes peed in the snow (but then she is convinced that everything in the garden is constantly urinated on by all of God's creatures). I suspect the truth is that the snow that lands in London has to fight its way through all kinds of pollution.

The Bourbon Slurpee serve

It's possible that DBS has a better quality of snow down in Havant. But if you're planning to experiment with snow in food or drink, you might want to taste it on its own first!

Deadly Yellow Snow
50 ml bourbon
Sugar lump
Fresh mint
Suburban snow

Place mint in a glass. Drop in sugar lump and muddle with the mint leaves. Add snow and pour in the whisky. Either drink with a straw or mix into an alcoholic Slush Puppy. Then discard.

Lab Update #3: Snow.

Lab update #3 - Fun with Snow

With all my scheduled meetings for the day cancelled, I decided to make the best of this impromptu day-off and use the weather in some drinks.

First I tried a Snow Julep using Jim Beam Green Label Bourbon, it's looks good and I thought it was a nice idea but it was very difficult to drink without a straw.

The next idea (below right) was inspired by Clayton (and I have to admit I feel the same) love of the G Vine ice balls, rather than one big ice ball to add to your whisky why not use a compacted snowball. Once I had packed it together I put it

in the freezer for a minute to let it harden up.

this seems to cool the drink moderately, but not as much as the Gvine cubes.

Below left: you can see a Gin & Tonic, "Evans" style served with another chunk snowball ice.

Some readers may think, using snow ice is all well and good but I would like to be warmed up.

Well I shall introduce you to my simple hot toddy recipe:

2pts Whisky

1pt Sugar Syrup

1pt Lemon Juice

4pts Boiling Water

I have scaled this up using 500ml whisky, 125ml sugar syrup, 125ml honey, 250ml lemon juice. I added the whisky sugar syrup and lemon juice to a saucepan and gently heated it, I then added the honey,a pinch of nutmeg, and stirred. After heating for a few minutes I removed the pan from the heat. After cooling I strained it and bottled it.

Voila! You have a premix hot toddy, just add hot water (1pt toddy mix : 2parts boiling water.)