{"id":61617,"date":"2013-12-31T14:58:32","date_gmt":"2013-12-31T19:58:32","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=61617"},"modified":"2017-04-10T10:50:30","modified_gmt":"2017-04-10T14:50:30","slug":"faulkners-cocktail-of-choice","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/12\/31\/faulkners-cocktail-of-choice\/","title":{"rendered":"Faulkner\u2019s Cocktail of Choice"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"img\"<\/a><\/p>\n

When I first started working at Kings County Distillery, in the summer of 2010, I was delighted to find the job provided ample time to read. Whiskey making has its own peculiar rhythm. Each batch begins in a flurry, as one juggles a series of tasks like a line cook, but ends in a hush, with little to do but watch the languorous drip of the stills.<\/p>\n

This was in the wobbly-legged days of the company\u2019s infancy, before we moved into the grand old brick paymaster building in the Brooklyn Navy Yards. Back then we were based out of a studio space on Meadow Street with wooden floors and five-gallon steel pot stills that had to be emptied, scaldingly, by hand. (This, as our former downstairs neighbors can attest, would prove an unfortunate combination of circumstances.) During that first summer, we worked singly, in nine-hour shifts, so there was a lot of alone time. So, unless one wanted to lose one\u2019s goddamn mind in that little room, one read. <\/p>\n

Perhaps it was the environment, but I soon became keenly aware of how an author\u2019s drink of choice could perfume the pages of a novel. Fitzgerald\u2019s very language is redolent of the gin rickey; Kerouac stinks of tequila; Chandler of gimlets; Hemingway of mojitos and red wine; Poe of cognac; Wilde fumes with absinthe; while Burroughs somehow manages to isolate the weird chemical frequencies in a vodka and coke. Anne Sexton drank straight vodka, whereas Sylvia Plath wrote about vodka but mostly drank wine. Carson McCullers was coldblooded, so she drank sherry mixed with hot tea in the morning and straight bourbon at night. Bourbon was also the poison of Sherwood Anderson, Dylan Thomas, Walker Percy, and Ring Lardner. Steinbeck preferred brandy, but when he couldn\u2019t get it during Prohibition, he once appeared at a Stanford\u2013Berkeley football game wearing an overcoat lined with vials of grain alcohol, pilfered from a chemistry lab where he worked.<\/p>\n

And then there is Faulkner, the poet laureate of corn whiskey. I read Light in August<\/em> over the course of about seven shifts that first summer. A significant portion of the book concerns the exploits of a pair of bootleggers\u2014a topic with which Faulkner was familiar, having run boatfuls of illegal whiskey into New Orleans during Prohibition. There are lovely passages describing the act of drinking whiskey, which goes down \u201ccold as molasses\u201d before beginning its slow, warm uncoiling.<\/p>\n

Sherwood Anderson recalls that when he first met Faulkner in New Orleans, in 1925, Faulkner showed up wearing an overcoat that \u201cbulged strangely, so much, that at first glance, I thought he must be in some queer way deformed.\u201d Faulkner informed Anderson that he intended to stay for some time in the city, and asked if he could leave some things at Anderson\u2019s house. \u201cHis \u2018things\u2019 consisted of some six or eight half gallon jars of moon liquor he had brought with him from the country that were stowed in the pockets of the big coat.\u201d For breakfast Faulkner would eat beignets with a glass of corn liquor, and as he wrote, he kept a jug or three under his desk. Hemingway once remarked that in Faulkner he could detect the \u201cboozy courage of corn whiskey.\u201d (He meant it as an insult, but Faulkner likely wouldn\u2019t have taken it as such.)<\/p>\n

Kay Boyle wrote in The New Republic<\/em> in 1938 that there were two Faulkners, \u201cthe one who stayed down south and the one who went to war in France and mixed with foreigners and aviators.\u201d The former was elegant, a bit rambly, and \u201calmost ludicrously authentic\u201d; while the latter, inspired by the modernism of Joyce, Eliot, and Stein, was dense, allusive, Guernica<\/em>-contorted and Guernica<\/em>-grim, but always (Boyle remarked sharply) \u201ca little awed, a little unsure, provincially aware of the chances he is taking.\u201d<\/p>\n

I like to think of these two Faulkners as embodied in his two favorite cocktails: the toddy and the mint julep. The julep is High Faulknerian. Taking in the dense, lush language in his most lauded works\u2014As I Lay Dying<\/em>, The Sound and the Fury<\/em>, and Absalom, Absalom!<\/em>\u2014is precisely like burying one\u2019s nose in a tangle of fresh mint and sipping a strong bourbon. But the other Faulkner, the one who stayed down south, exemplified by the Snopes trilogy and Sanctuary<\/em> and Light in August<\/em>, is more like a cold toddy: light, citrusy, superficially graceful, yet deceptively complex.<\/p>\n

Faulkner\u2019s favorite drink is often listed as the julep, which is probably correct: his house in Oxford still displays his beloved metal julep cup. But his old standby was the toddy, which he describes \u201ccompounding \u2026 with ritualistic care.\u201d It comes in two forms, hot and cold. Faulkner\u2019s niece, Dean Faulkner Wells, clearly recalled her uncle making hot toddies and serving them to his ailing children on a silver tray. But unlike today, the cold toddy seems to have been the more popular in Faulkner\u2019s day.<\/p>\n

Recipe:<\/p>\n

2 ounces of bourbon or white whiskey
\n4 ounces of water (cold or boiling)
\nIf cold, 1 lemon slice; if hot, 1\/2 lemon, both juice + rind
\n1 teaspoon of sugar<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

The key to a toddy, according to Faulkner, is that the sugar must be dissolved into a small amount of water before the whiskey is added, otherwise it \u201clies in a little intact swirl like sand at the bottom of the glass.\u201d (One of Faulkner\u2019s short stories, \u201cAn Error in Chemistry,\u201d hinges on this point: a northern murderer, pretending to be a Southern gentleman, mistakenly mixes sugar with \u201craw whiskey\u201d; the Southerners recognize his faux pas and immediately pounce on him.) Once the sugar is dissolved, the whiskey is poured over it. Top it off, to taste, with the remaining water\u2014preferably \u201crainwater from a cistern.\u201d Add lemon and serve in a heavy glass tumbler.<\/p>\n

Robert Moor is a writer currently living in British Columbia. Read his other work at robertmoor.com<\/a>. This piece has been adapted from <\/em>The Kings County Distillery Guide to Urban Moonshining: How To Make and Drink Whiskey (Abrams). Please feel free to attend the book\u2019s launch party at the Powerhouse Arena on October 23.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I first started working at Kings County Distillery, in the summer of 2010, I was delighted to find the job provided ample time to read. Whiskey making has its own peculiar rhythm. Each batch begins in a flurry, as one juggles a series of tasks like a line cook, but ends in a hush, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":468,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5027],"tags":[7675,3529,2453,571,660,5127,5151,12075,4769,3891,2620,12074,3581],"class_list":["post-61617","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-on-food","tag-anne-sexton","tag-carson-mccullers","tag-dylan-thomas","tag-ernest-hemingway","tag-f-scott-fitzgerald","tag-jack-kerouac","tag-john-steinbeck","tag-kings-county-distillery","tag-raymond-chandler","tag-sherwood-anderson","tag-walker-percy","tag-whiskey","tag-william-faulkner"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nFaulkner\u2019s Cocktail of Choice<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"December 31, 2013 \u2013 When I first started working at Kings County Distillery, in the summer of 2010, I was delighted to find the job provided ample time to read. 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