This book is dedicated to all my friends on Mennonite Twitter and the loyal readers of the Drunken Menno Blog.
“[We] spent our time daily in playing, drinking, and all manner of frivolous diversions.”
—Menno Simons*
*The Complete Works of Menno Simon, vol. 1, trans. John F. Funk (Elkhart, IN: John F. Funk, 1871), mennosimons.net/completewritings.html. Quote taken grossly out of context.
CONTENTS
Introduction
PART I
ANABAPTIST IMBIBING
PART II
FAITH AND LIBATIONS
PART III
MOVED BY THE SPIRITS
PART IV
QUIET IN THE LIQUOR CABINET
Large-Quantity Cocktails
Syrups and Other Preserves
Sunday School Sippers
Acknowledgements
Conversion Chart
Index
INTRODUCTION
I imagine you, dear reader, coming upon this little book and sizing it up from its title and cover.
I expect that you will have spied this book on a shelf or website and puzzled at its oddity.
You may have asked yourself, “What kind of joke is this?” To which I answer, “It is the best kind of joke, curious reader—the kind that comes with cocktail recipes.”
I do not know if you came upon the book while looking for information about Mennonites or while looking for a cocktail book. In either case, you have lucked upon a long-overdue amalgamation of the cocktail book genre with whatever genre of books includes everything you never knew you wanted to know about Mennonites.
Here, you will find amusing commentary on Mennonite history, faith practices, and cultural forms, each with thematically appropriate cocktail recipes. While many books about Mennonites portray us as a simple people and many books about cocktails contain complicated recipes, I have reversed this pattern—highlighting the Mennonite complexities and offering up relatively simple cocktails.
Just because.
You may be thinking that you do not care about Mennonites. Or about cocktails. You might think we are boring, earnest types who wear old-fashioned clothes and sing a lot of hymns. You might think cocktails are fussy and complicated to make.
If you are thinking that, then you wouldn’t be all wrong but you wouldn’t be all right either. It is true that most Mennonites are boring and earnest, but we do not all dress in distinctive garb, and some of us will refrain from hymn singing in public. It is also true that some cocktails require precision and attention to detail. But again, not all.
And so I say to you, thirsty reader, that you do not need a passionate interest in all things Mennonite or mixology to enjoy this book. I will take you on a booze-soaked romp through the oddities of our history and culture. I will not bother you with pages upon pages detailing a comparison of various whiskies’ flavour profiles. Nor will I bore you with lengthy disputations on theological justifications for one tenet of the faith or another. I will not even provide full and complete explanations of the various church schisms in our past. I do, however, encourage you to visit the companion blog, the Drunken Mennonite at slklassen.com, for all the fascinating details.
Because, after a few drinks, all of these stories will suddenly become absolutely riveting. Well, after quite a few drinks.
You might also be thinking that Mennonites do not drink alcoholic beverages—that we are such a morally upright faith group that we would spurn all things intoxicating. Here, too, you would be partially correct. There are some groups of Mennonites who, like other Christians around the turn of the 20th century, rejected the consumption of distilled beverages for a number of decades. Today, many of us have moved away from that prohibition, and the more conservative groups never accepted that prohibition in the first place. But there are still some holdouts.
The other reason you might imagine that Mennonites would be averse to cocktails is that it is a tenet of the Mennonite faith to keep in one way or another separate from the ways of the world. Not to worry. I have carefully designed the cocktails in this book to eschew worldliness. These are virtuous cocktails.
Ah, now I imagine you nodding, and it occurs to me that you may be a different kind of reader. Perhaps you are a Mennonite yourself. Or have a close connection to Mennonites.
In that case, you will have looked at this book with trepidation, wondering just how I have misrepresented your faith/ethnicity to the greater cocktail-book-reading public. You will approach the book with suspicion and prepare yourself to be disappointed in my lack of proper respect for the articles of faith and/or your own personal experience in your subgroup of the faith.
Such anxiety is, I am afraid, unavoidable.
Although I have worked hard to ensure that no Mennonites were harmed in the making of this book, I expect there will be a few who are dissatisfied. We have a reputation as a good and earnest people, and even the improper use of star anise in a cocktail may well cause a tsk here or there.
You will perhaps be mollified by the knowledge that my own Mennonite community has been surprisingly supportive of this whole endeavour. Or maybe that will just cause you to doubt the integrity of my congregation. It is true that the congregation allowed me full artistic licence on the condition that I provide them with mocktail recipes for their public gatherings. And cocktails for the private ones.
As you have probably surmised, my Mennonite community is of the so-called progressive variety. My people never dressed in a way to set themselves apart from those around them, and we adopted technological advances in much the same manner as our neighbours (though, perhaps, we were just a little bit grumpier about it). If you are of a different variety of Mennonite than me, then you may find yourself under-represented in this collection of thoughts and libations.
But I think you’ll see yourself somewhere. Or, if not, I suggest that you open your mind to an Inter-Mennonite Drinking Experience. You might even find occasion to clink glasses with a cocktail aficionado who is not a Mennonite at all.
That is, if your congregation prayerfully discerns it to be okay.
I should warn you that this cocktail book lacks a few of the traditional elements of the Mennonite cookbook genre. Most notably, the book is entirely devoid of biblical quotes, inspirational aphorisms, and/or exhortations to live a better life. There aren’t even any stories about how hospitality channels God’s grace. Each recipe is accompanied by a short paragraph about the cocktail’s connection to a Mennonite theme, but none of these paragraphs are even remotely inspirational. As a Mennonite reader/drinker, you may find this book just a tad frivolous. I suggest that you consume it in moderation.
Mennonite Cocktail Basics
As a people known to like hard work, Mennonites cannot endorse shortcuts in the making of cocktails. I expect you to squeeze your lemons and limes yourself and, ideally, use herbs grown in your own garden. Furthermore, as everything you do has ethical consequences, I encourage you to use fair trade and/or local ingredients whenever possible. When that is not possible, allow the guilt to wash over you. Don’t worry, the pain doesn’t last long.
Tools
Most Mennonites are raised to embrace frugality. Given this upbringing, it is difficult for me to justify purchasing a number of new tools and specialized glassware simply for making cocktails. I tried for months to make do with Mason jars, a paring knife, and a wooden spoon, but it turns out that a few good tools really are helpful.
Cocktail shaker. There are two kinds of shakers—the Boston shaker, which is like two large tumblers that fit together, and the cobbler cocktail shaker, which has a little strainer in the top and a cap. I suggest the latter because you can frugally avoid having to buy a separate strainer, and it is also easier to handle.
Mixing glass. These are pint-sized glasses with measurements along the sides that you use to make stirred (not shaken) cocktails. You do not really need one. A Mason jar, the bottom part of your cocktail shaker, or even a clean, empty pickle jar will do.
Cocktail strainer. Theoretically, you could use a kitchen sieve to strain your cocktails, but it is handy to have a Hawthorne strainer that sits nicely over the edge of your cocktail shaker.
Jigger. Jiggers are two-sided conical measuring tools that come in a variety of sizes. Seek out a jigger with 1 ounce (30 mL) on one side and ½ (15 mL) on the other. If it shows the ¼ ounce (7.5 mL) mark, even better. Otherwise, you will need to either buy another jigger that pairs 1¼ ounces (37.5 mL) with ¾ ounce (22 mL) or resort to measuring spoons. There’s a handy conversion chart at the back of the book to help out if you want to measure with something other than a jigger. Some cobbler cocktail shakers not only have a built-in strainer but have caps ranging from ¾ to 1½ fluid ounces, some with markings. If you have one like that, congratulate yourself on your frugality and don’t bother buying a jigger at all.
Muddler. This is a wide wooden stick used to smush up fruit, herbs, or spices. It functions like a pestle in a mortar and pestle. I used a wooden spoon for this and it works, but not as well.
Blender. Only a few cocktails require a blender. If you have one, make sure it is strong enough to crush ice. If not, you will need to crush ice in a bag or pillowcase with a hammer for those cocktails that require it. Do not use the hand-embroidered pillowcases that your grandmother made for you.
Bar spoon. A bar spoon is a long-handled spoon useful for mixing stirred cocktails and for floating (creating a layer of liquid at the top of a drink). Any long-handled spoon (like an iced-tea spoon) will also work.
Swizzle stick. A few cocktails want to be swizzled—this involves using a special stick that has blades at the end to cut through the crushed ice. Swizzling sounds very worldly, though, so don’t worry about using a bar spoon or regular spoon instead.
Citrus juicer. Or you can just squeeze the lemons and limes and capture the juice in a bowl.
Zester. Seriously? It’s not that hard getting the zest off a lemon or lime using a paring knife or a vegetable peeler.
Cocktail skewers. These are handy for holding garnishes in position. Avoid the ones fashioned to look like miniature swords as these are too militaristic for Mennonite mixology. In a pinch, you can also use a toothpick or even a large darning needle.
Ice cube trays. Don’t think you can get away without ice. Splurge on a couple of trays at your local dollar or thrift store.
Glassware
You can serve your cocktails in any glasses that you like. Most Mennonite groups have a certain suspicion toward anything too fancy, and drinking from conical or hourglass-shaped vessels would certainly count as fancy. But if you happen to come upon a fancy cocktail glass at the local thrift shop or charity auction, it would be wrong not to use it. I have listed the glassware below, ranked from least to most worldly.
Old-fashioned glass, also known as a rocks glass. This glass is short and heavy. It is useful for strong drinks served on ice. It is also fine as an all-around useful kitchen glass. And with “old-fashioned” being in the name, this one can’t be considered worldly at all.
Moscow mule mug. This copper mug could disguise itself as a camping cup. Because it is metal, it is indestructible and practical. Also, people have been drinking from copper cups for centuries, so this one has tradition on its side.
Highball. This is a tall glass that’s used for cocktails that aren’t quite so strong—cocktails that have juice or sparkling water. You might serve iced tea or even ice water in this glass on a hot day. It’s a pretty functional glass. You may have one or two of them in your cupboard already without knowing it.
Shot glass. A shot glass is a little one-to-two-ounce glass that doubles as a toothpick holder in many a Mennonite household. Sounds reasonably unworldly.
Coupe glass. This glass has a shallow bowl on top of a stem and is good for many a small, shaken cocktail. It’s a little fancy, but it’s really just a fruit nappy on a stem. And the stem is useful to keep the heat of your hand from warming the beverage.
Julep cup. The traditional julep cup is an elegant sterling silver tumbler without a handle, often with decorative beading around the base. There’s a certain worldliness to all that elegance. A stainless steel version is, however, a bit less worldly, especially if you put the glass to use to hold cut flowers or herbs when you are not enjoying a julep.
Flute glass. This is usually used for Champagne and other sparkling wines because it holds the bubbles. It is, however, a worldly glass. We should all remember that in the olden days, people were perfectly happy drinking Champagne from coupe glasses.
Martini glass. The epitome of fancy. A Mennonite uses this V-shaped glass only when they want to push the envelope on acceptable worldliness.
Hurricane glass. This is a very, very worldly glass. You can maybe use one of these for a margarita, but only if you received it in a gift or in a box at an auction that included many, much more sensible items.
Mennonite Flavours
While Mennonite communities live all around the world and eat the foods of their surroundings, two groups of Mennonites have developed food traditions with particular flavour profiles. Mennonites first migrated from Switzerland, the Alsace, and south Germany to North America in the 17th century and, together with other German Americans, developed what would become known as Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine. Known for the perhaps apocryphal axiom that all meals should have a balance of seven sweets and seven sours, the cocktails that honour this Mennonite tradition feature sweets and sours that are in homage to the jams and pickles that grace Pennsylvania Dutch tables.