I haven’t told you yet how I spent my New Year’s Eve, have I? Silly me. You’re likely kvetching to know what a pretend professional drinker does on Alcoholics’ Feast Day. (It’s in the Bible, look it up.)
Our evening began early-ish, in the five o’clock hour (it’s not just a blog, it’s a thing you can do!), with the best pizza in the world and a list of champagne cocktails to make. Earlier, we’d picked up a cheapo bottle of bubbles, and of course to get every penny’s worth of the $9.97 you just spent on lowercase-c champagne so embarrassingly embarrassing that I refuse to even mention it by name here, you have to plan for several fizzy drinks at once.
The recipe for this Champagne Julep came out of a cocktail book — one of the several belonging to Sean’s cousins, with whom we crashed over the holidays; it’s a whole family of drinkers (what can I say, I know how to pick first husbands) — but I wish that weren’t the case. Because if ever there were a person put on Earth for the purpose of whimsy-ing up a recipe like this off the top of her dainty, demented head, it is me. Dammit, the Champagne Julep should dance nightly in my dreams. “Champagne Julep concocter” is what my tombstone should one day read, except with one word misspelled and no money left in my estate to fix it. Has the past year and change instilled not one inkling in me towards total julep brilliance?
Credit, though: It’s a damn good recipe. Simple to the point of self-evident, as any worthwhile julep recipe oughta be. The resulting drink likewise reads organically on the palate. Picture in your mind what a fizzy mint julep might taste like, and so it does. Tastes fun, no?
The Champagne Julep
(From The Complete Book of Mixed Drinks: More Than 1000 Alcoholic and Nonalcoholic Cocktails, by Anthony Dias Blue, with some adjustments and finesses)
About 3 ounces Champagne or sparkling white wine
1 1/2 ounces Buffalo Trace bourbon
4 large mint leaves
1/2 to 1 teaspoon simple syrup (to taste)
Bunch the mint leaves between thumb and forefinger and give one good tear through the middle of the leaves. Drop into bottom of a tall Collins glass and pour in simple syrup on top, just enough to cover leaves. Muddle well. Add ice roughly to fill glass. Pour in bourbon. Stir very briefly. If necessary/desired, put in more ice at this step to refill to top. Top off with Champagne. Once again, stir briefly. Taste and top off with more simple syrup if desired. Garnish with mint sprig.
Obviously, use the best bubbly you can afford. Also, if you’re going to go with a wheated (i.e. sweeter) bourbon like Buffalo Trace or Maker’s Mark, I’d recommend yin-yanging with a dry champagne. On the flip side, I bet this would taste great with a rye whiskey and a sweet sparkler.
I go into more detail about my little physical tricks I use to properly mix a julep in my World’s Greatest Mint Julep post, if you care to read it. Basically, although here I suggest stirring briefly to agitate the drink, my most preferred method of mixing a julep is to make little downward stabbing motions in the glass with a swizzle stick.
I also advocate taking your mint sprig by the stem in one hand and giving it a few smacks against the open palm of your other hand. You’ll see this done at high-end cocktail places a lot; it’s great for releasing the leaves’ aroma.