BOOK/A TABLE - Mint Juleps for Derby Day

How I love May! When jackets go unbuttoned, lilacs are in bloom and the Kentucky Derby is at hand. And what Derby party would be complete without a Mint Julep in hand? Oooh yes, the Mint Julep—that wicked mistress of the South. She’ll coddle you through an afternoon and then beat you into submission by nightfall.

In New Hampshire, my neighbor Trudy’s annual Kentucky Derby parties were legendary and her juleps were the best I’ve ever tasted. Word is, she was given the somewhat unorthodox recipe from a Kentucky gentleman back in her salad days as a waitress. Somehow, my juleps are never as good as when Trudy made them (the rum, although surprising, is key), but it’s sure fun trying. Apart from any legerdemain, this is what she used to do:

Make simple syrup by boiling one part sugar to two parts water; let cool. Fill a tall Collins glass with crushed ice. Alternate Maker’s Mark (or your favorite Kentucky bourbon) and simple syrup in 1 oz portions, totaling 2 oz bourbon and 3 oz simple syrup. Top with a 1/2 oz floater of Myer's dark rum. Add a mint sprig and insert a straw to sip up the boozy goodness.

Now, you don’t have to wait for Derby Day to enjoy a julep. Just take a cue from F. Scott Fitzgerald and The Great Gatsby. I think this is fabulous: “The notion originated with Daisy’s suggestion that we hire five bathrooms and take cold baths, and then assumed more tangible form as ‘a place to have a mint julep’.”

The Kentucky Derby is always the first Saturday in May—and it falls on the 4th this year. Do enjoy and please ride responsibly!

BOOK/A TABLE - Cassoulet

One evening, a number of years ago, after we’d knocked back practically a barrel of bourbon, my friend took it upon himself to read Ernest Hemingway’s The Short and Happy Life of Francis Macomber to us. Despite the title, there was nothing short about it; he read for what felt like hours. (Just imagine: a massive breath or a pause for another sip of Maker’s Mark to add dramatic effect as he turned each weighted page with a licked index finger.)

Frankly, I hadn’t much cared for Hemingway at that point, and this soliloquy damned near put an end to my interest in him entirely until I read A Moveable Feast—here was the extraordinary life of Hemingway himself, part of the Lost Generation in 20’s Paris! And eating his way through all of it!

Among the oysters and white wine (and Zelda and Gertrude Stein, of course), there was also cassoulet, the hearty dish of white beans, duck, and sausage. While the creation of cassoulet is attributed to Carcassonne in the region of Languedoc, Hemingway spotted it on a bistro menu in Montparnasse.

Cassoulet is a slow process of braising meat and aromatics (taking nearly as long to make as it takes to have The Short and Happy Life of Francis Macomber read to you), but well worth it. I also think it’s essential to then let your cassoulet sit overnight before heating it up again in the oven to serve.

Rest assured, when I laid this sumptous pot on the dinner table for some friends recently, I had everyone’s attention.

My favorite version is here, but you might like Julia Child’s epic foray, Jacques Pepin's “quick version” or a simpler chicken variation here, which is more like a fricassee.

As Hemingway wrote to a friend in 1950, “If you are lucky enough to have lived in Paris as a young man, then wherever you go for the rest of your life, it stays with you, for Paris is a moveable feast.”

Do enjoy!