A year after World War II, Americans were intrigued by one of their more notorious allies. Some went as far as to suggest that the Moscow Mule, made with the white whiskey most associated with Russia, was a heady olive branch. Although we'd like to encourage such claims of goodwill, we must not misrepresent the true tale of this ersatz classic of a mixed drink. Made with 2 ounces vodka and an ounce of lime juice topped with 4 ounces ginger beer, the Moscow Mule was merely the marketing ploy of John G. Martin of Heublein Inc., an East Coast spirits and food distributor. Anyone that has tried one would agree that the Moscow Mule is a cool vodka libation with a slow ginger burn that warms the blood on a cold winter night.

The Moscow Mule became a national favourite in just a few years. Martin was a farseeing flack who even contemplated selling low-fat foods long before most. But he was first determined to get Americans to try something few had ever considered - vodka. His timing, however, wasn't ideal and his decision to buy a vodka distiller - a spirit almost unheard of in the States during the '30s - nearly got him fired.

The vodka was Smirnov, originally owned by a family of the same name, whose members started life as serfs before eventually rising to near royalty by pawning off their spirit to czars during the late 1800s. When the family became the official purveyor of vodka to the court of Nicholas II, the Bolsheviks weren't so understanding, and in 1918 the faction turned the Smirnovs' distillery into a garage. The family recipe made it to France via an older Smirnov brother and was sold to another Russian émigré before making it into the hands of Martin, with the Anglicised name Smirnoff.

Several years after Heublein purchased the vodka distillery, the company still relied on sales from its A-1 steak sauce, and the VP's purchase had become known as "Martin's folly." To save face, Martin hit the road with Smirnoff vodka in tow. The sales trip wasn't going too well, so while in Hollywood - presumably visiting the pretty, young, but now-forgotten actress who later became his wife - he decided to stop at the Cock 'n' Bull for dinner and drinks. Known as the oasis of Sunset Strip, the Cock 'n' Bull was then owned by Jack Morgan, a fine restaurateur who was losing money fast trying to sell the ginger beer he made on the side. Morgan had a friend who was also experiencing business troubles, only she was trying to offload mugs made in a copper factory she had inherited. The three sat down and concocted a Moscow Mule, which was to be served in and sold with a 5-ounce copper cup with an embossed kicking mule on one side. Besides garnishing the drink with a lime wedge, the marketeers added a twist of cucumber peel and claimed the drink had the kick of a mule. Before shoving off, Martin took a snapshot of the drink with a Cock 'n' Bull bartender to show mixers at his next watering hole - proof of the drink's popularity and its success with the competition down the street.

Martin didn't let his marketing efforts rest there. By the time the New York Daily News' front page flashed a photo of local bartenders parading down city streets with banners patriotically declaring, "We can do without the Moscow Mule," Heublein explained that Smirnoff had long stopped serving those nasty Commies. In fact, the distiller was making its vodka with 100-percent American grain in the bastion of the motherland, New England.

The Yanks bought both the story and the spirit, and as James Brady (author of The Coldest War) shows, the Moscow Mule became associated with the innocence of youth: "We were 21 or 22 and sure we would always be young ... we drove up the Shirley Highway to Washington weekends to chase girls, which it was okay to call them then, and fall in love and dance close as people did to the big-band music of that year and drink Manhattans and a new vodka drink called a Moscow Mule. And when you look back on it now, it seems as wonderful and yet unreal as an MGM musical."

Older, perhaps wiser, and not terribly worried about a Red scare, most admit to giving in to this drink more for its story than for its taste. Any bartender at any bar can make it well, and some will even take it with ginger ale instead of ginger beer, though most people skip the cucumber peel. Besides, it's always a pleasant reminder that it's been awhile since that whole Sputnik incident.

"There is only one vodka left," Peter the Great, former czar of Russia, wrote to his wife from Paris. "I don't know what to do." I would have suggested mixing the vodka in Moscow Mules to make it last longer. Of course, the Mule still has yet to be spotted in Russia, and the natives both then and now might be indignant about mixing anything with their spirit, but this cocktail-inspired mixed drink is perfect for the practical host. As easily made for one as for twelve, the Moscow Mule garners interest equally well when served at a cocktail soiree or an after-game bash. It's also safe in the hands of the novice mixer.

In fact, the Moscow Mule is the perfect drink for the not-so-helpful friend who insists on helping the host. Although I certainly wouldn't advocate it, even a child could mix 2 ounces vodka with an ounce of lime juice in a Collins glass filled with ice, and then top it with 4 ounces ginger beer, before tossing in a lime wedge. So assign the task of mixing this drink to those guests you'd like to keep out of your hair, as you enjoy serving hors d'oeuvres and milling around with the other guests.

The only difficult element of making this drink is finding the ginger beer, which actually comes in both a spirituous and strictly soda version. For the Mule, use the latter version, typically found or ordered at specialty food and beverage stores. If you actually have the option of several ginger beer brands, opt for the one that's the least sweet. Ginger ale may be substituted, though be warned: It'll be palatable, but far from memorable. If ginger beer is not available in your town, look for either a ginger or ginger beer syrup. Ginger syrup also can be bought at specialty food shops, as well as health-food stores. We've only come across ginger beer syrup at shops in England. If you can't find either concentrate or if you find one that's too sweet, add a few dashes of Angostura bitters or even an extra squeeze of lime to your Moscow Mules.

That last trick is from a bartender at the Savoy Hotel in London. The bartender actually tops his Mules with a few sprigs of mint. Although admittedly attractive, the look is a little too similar to that of the Mint Julep, a classic cocktail requiring a very different mind-set to sip. Remember, part of serving up cocktails well is giving imbibers what they expect with a slight, unexpected twist. By no means is this a criticism of the Savoy. First off, the English may have helped popularise the julep, but they certainly have no interest in the States' version of it and would have no expectation of ever being served it. Besides, they're most used to sipping Mules straight from the can. Fortunately, this unseemly habit - fuelled by yet another Smirnoff marketing campaign - is on the way out thanks to the London Evening Standard's exposé on the matter. "All you young suckers on snazzy, copper-coloured bottles!" cried the paper last June, "That Smirnoff Moscow Mule you are drinking - the summer's drink - is actually a 50-year-old recipe. Worse still, provided you can invest in a bottle of vodka you could make your own Mule for much less than the £2.50 [US$4.25] bars are charging per bottle." The cost is particularly outrageous considering you can buy an original Moscow Mule copper cup at flea markets for only $2. Careful readers will have noted that I promote the Moscow Mule as a cool vodka libation with a slow ginger burn that warms the blood on cold winter nights, while the Standard tags it as a summer drink. To this, we first point out that England has never been known for its weather and then that even San Francisco is cold enough to warrant an occasional nip of the Mule during summer.

The Standard goes on to report something that I can't quite believe but like the idea of nonetheless. According to the paper's bar contacts, including the Savoy's head barman, Peter Dorelli, a drink similar to the Moscow Mule was made during Prohibition using vodka diluted with ginger cordial and soda water. I have yet to come across a cordial made primarily with ginger, but if I did, I'd certainly give it a try. Determined Europeans, especially the French who are blessed with the most and the best liqueurs, can most easily find this cordial if it still exists. As to whether Americans were drinking the Moscow Mule before it was officially the Mule, well, I doubt it. The research shows that though there was a gin Mule cocktail and then a frightening Mule's Hind Leg concoction made with cordials and maple syrup, there were no mules from Moscow, let alone cocktails made with vodka during the '30s.

So sadly, I give credit where credit's due for the creation of this drink and suggest that you lead guests in a toast to Smirnoff's John G. Martin. According to The New York Times, there couldn't have been a better or more intriguing man: "Of all the captains of industry in the United States, past or present, John Gilbert Martin was one of the most unlikely, and most unforgettable. He bore no resemblance to the politically correct archetype of the American businessman, the research-oriented profit-driven three-piece suit." Whenever sipping the drink this man created, we can't help but wonder if Martin ever felt guilty for starting a craze at the now-defunct Cock 'n' Bull for vodka, a spirit "without distinctive character, aroma, taste, or colour."

Moscow Mule

2 ounces vodka

1 ounce lime juice

4 ounces ginger beer

Use vodka that has been stored in a freezer. The ginger beer and fruit should have been stored in a refrigerator. Stir vodka and juice together well in a copper mug or a chilled Collins glass. Add fresh cracked ice and a swizzle stick; top with ginger beer. Garnish with a lime wedge.
Variation: Ginger ale may be substituted for ginger beer.