Juleps and Jardins: A Horticultural Toast to National Mint Julep Day
This botanical history post was featured on The Daily Gardener podcast:
May 30th every year
On this day, we celebrate that most refreshing of Southern libations - the Mint Julep.
I confess a certain amusement at how seriously some approach this concoction, as though mixing bourbon with mint leaves were comparable to negotiating a peace treaty.
Nevertheless, National Mint Julep Day deserves our attention, particularly for those of us who cultivate our gardens with both purpose and pleasure.
The mint julep, that symphony of mint, bourbon, sugar, and water, has captivated Southern society for generations, though I daresay few who sip it at the Kentucky Derby could identify the plant from which their garnish was harvested.
Imagine, if you will, a garden where aromatic herbs grow in abundance, not merely as decorative borders but as essential contributors to one's domestic happiness.
Among these herbs stands mint - resilient, invasive, and utterly unrepentant about its territorial ambitions. Much like certain families I have known in English society, once established, it refuses to be contained.
But not just any mint will do for this distinguished drink! Oh no!
If you ask any Southerner worth their salt (or should I say sugar?), spearmint is the only acceptable variety for a proper Mint Julep. Such delightful provincialism! I find it rather charming how people can develop such fierce loyalties to particular plants.
One can almost hear the ice cubes clinking against silver julep cups, a sound that echoes through Southern verandas like the scandals whispered behind ornate fans at London's finest drawing rooms.
But let us not forget, dear readers, that the mint in your julep need not be relegated solely to the confines of a cocktail glass.
As gardeners of distinction, we have both the privilege and responsibility to cultivate this versatile herb in our own domains.
Consider the satisfaction of plucking a sprig of homegrown spearmint, its leaves still glistening with morning dew, to garnish your very own mint julep!
There is something decidedly aristocratic about consuming what one has grown with one's own hands - even if those hands are occasionally assisted by more experienced ones belonging to the gardening staff.
And why stop at juleps?
The possibilities for your mint harvest are as boundless as the scandals in a London season. From teas that soothe the nerves after particularly trying social engagements, to salads that brighten even the dullest luncheon, from pesto that transforms ordinary pasta into something worth discussing, to lamb dishes that would make even the most discriminating dinner guest inquire after your recipe.
So on this National Mint Julep Day, I encourage you to raise your silver cups high - or whatever vessel you have that most closely approximates silver - and toast not merely to a pleasant beverage, but to the profound satisfaction that comes from nurturing life from seed to harvest.
For in cultivating mint, we cultivate not just an ingredient, but a connection to the very soil that sustains us all, regardless of our station.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I believe my own mint patch requires attention. It's time to ensure it hasn't completely overwhelmed the roses, and perhaps to sample a julep - purely for research purposes, you understand.
After all, it would be terribly remiss to let this day pass without proper observation. And I have never been one to neglect my duties, particularly when they involve spirits and freshly harvested herbs.
