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Texans, Missourians and Louisianians swear by holy Bour–
bon, but all the deft technicians, wheresoever found, agree
that the liquor must be old, mellow whiskey - the bland–
est in its savor, the richest in its perfume, the most linger–
ing in its softly-expiring after-aroma.
In
the name of the julep I have seen high crimes and
.flagrant misdemeanors committed.
In
one Corn Belt city,
which I shall not name here because probably it's enough
ashamed of itself already, I have stood in horror and with
seared eye-balls have seen a julep converted into a harsh
green tea by the sacrilegious use of peppermint sprigs -
not mint, peppermint! But if one's fancy inclines that way
,,,why not just swallow a mothball and be done with it?
Along the Eastern Seaboard - north of Baltimore, of
course, because they know better there - I have been
affronted by an architectural monstrosity, containing such
foreign substances as flavoring extracts, canned goods,
artificial coloring, grated cinnamon, and almost anything
else that wasn't nailed down. Any person who would call
that a julep - and these savages actually did - would be
...
~
sufficiently ignorant to think Cincinnati is a new form of
chewing gum. And once, in Farther Maine, a criminal mas–
queradin g as a barkeeper at a summer hotel, reared for
me a strange structure that had nearly everything in it
except the proper constituents of a julep. It had in it sliced
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