Moscow Mule and Memories
This post is from guest blogger Dustin Cann (@DustinCann on twitter)
For me, summer brings to mind thoughts of time spent in the yard or around a pool with friends, grilling to hearts’ content and talking about all things impactful or ridiculous over the appropriate summer beverages. You’re well familiar the normal libations: Pinot Grigio, Sangria, Mojitos, Margaritas, and (alas) light beer. Nothing against any of these options, but I’m a little bored with them. Fortunately, I recently had a good friend give me a particularly great piece of advice: rediscover and fall in love with the storied Moscow Mule.
There are plenty of reasons to enjoy one of these dandies- the crispness of ice cold vodka in a freezing copper mug, the sweetness of simple syrup and ginger beer, the brightness and tart magic of a generously limed rim. It’s a great drink, but the thing that turned me onto it so immediately was the story behind my friend’s love of the drink.
She told me how on hot days, she has very clear memories of growing up when her dad would mow the lawn. He’d bring out a couple of Mules in their cold copper mugs and the lawn would manage to take care of itself much easier. She remembers how great she felt when he finally let her have a tiny sip, like he thought she was grown up enough to be eligible for a little bit. The way the mug felt in her hands and the way he grinned as she licked her lips afterward.
Then she told me a few times a year she drops by her mom’s house on a hot day, and borrows one or two of his copper mugs for the day. She brings them home and puts them in the freezer for a while before mixing up a Mule and heading out to the yard. One sip and she’s 7 or 8 years old, all over again.
It wouldn’t be the same in a different mug, and it wouldn’t even matter except for the crystal clear memories of daddy and daughter that each sip evokes for her. Any drink that can do that for her is worth giving a shot. And even without the romance of great memories, it’s a damned good drink.
About The Author
Dustin Cann is a traveling business consultant (39 trips in the 52 weeks of 2009) who loves his work, but would rather be a rock star. He’s a foodie and an appreciator of both haute cuisine and pub food. When he’s home, he plays around in recording studios and relaxes on the lake with a blind pug called Honey. He lives in Memphis, Tennessee with his partner of eight years and almost surely needs to drink fewer Manhattans.