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Created by Chef Remy
Ripe Georgia peaches muddled with good bourbon, brightened with fresh lemon and wildflower honey, then crowned with spicy ginger beer over crushed ice. Summer hospitality in a glass.
Good bourbon and ripe peaches belong together like New Orleans and jazz. Both are Southern. Both are honest. Both deserve respect.
I first made this drink at Lagniappe during a scorching August when a farmer friend showed up with two crates of Georgia peaches so ripe they perfumed the entire kitchen. We had a crowd on the patio that night, the kind of humid evening where even the ceiling fans seemed to sweat. I muddled those peaches with bourbon and whatever else I could find, and by midnight we had converted the entire bar to peach smashes. Sometimes the best recipes happen when you stop thinking and start tasting.
The key here is layering your flavors the same way you would season a gumbo. The peach provides the base note, sweet and fragrant. The bourbon adds depth and warmth. Lemon brightens everything, honey softens the edges, and ginger beer brings the heat that makes your mouth pay attention. Every element has a job. None is optional.
This is a generous drink for generous occasions. Backyard barbecues, front porch sitting, any gathering where time moves slow and company moves slower. At Lagniappe, we serve these by the pitcher when the weather turns warm. You should too.
Quantity
1
pitted and cut into wedges
Quantity
2 ounces
Quantity
1 ounce
about 1 lemon
Quantity
3/4 ounce
equal parts honey and warm water, mixed until dissolved
Quantity
6-8, plus a sprig for garnish
Quantity
4 ounces
well-chilled
Quantity
as needed
Quantity
1 thin slice
for garnish
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| ripe Georgia peachpitted and cut into wedges | 1 |
| good bourbon | 2 ounces |
| fresh lemon juiceabout 1 lemon | 1 ounce |
| honey syrupequal parts honey and warm water, mixed until dissolved | 3/4 ounce |
| fresh mint leaves | 6-8, plus a sprig for garnish |
| spicy ginger beerwell-chilled | 4 ounces |
| crushed ice | as needed |
| peach slice (optional)for garnish | 1 thin slice |
Start with a peach that smells like summer. Hold it close and breathe in. If it does not perfume the air around it, put it back and find one that does. The fruit should yield slightly when pressed near the stem, with skin that blushes deep gold and crimson. This is the foundation of everything. A mediocre peach makes a mediocre drink, no matter how good your bourbon.
Drop three or four peach wedges into a sturdy cocktail shaker or mixing glass. Add the mint leaves on top. Now here is where most folks go wrong: they beat the life out of everything. You want to press and twist, not pulverize. Five or six firm presses with your muddler, rotating as you go. The peach should release its juice and the mint should give up its oils without turning to green confetti. You should smell both immediately, bright and sweet and herbal.
Pour in your bourbon. Use something with character, a wheated bourbon or a high-rye that can stand up to the fruit without disappearing. Add the fresh lemon juice and honey syrup. The honey rounds out the peach's natural sweetness while the lemon keeps everything from becoming cloying. Fill the shaker with regular ice cubes and shake hard for twelve to fifteen seconds. You want it cold, you want it mixed, you want tiny ice chips starting to form.
Fill a rocks glass or a short tumbler with crushed ice, packing it loosely to the rim. Strain the bourbon mixture through a fine-mesh strainer to catch the peach pulp and mint bits. Some folks skip this step and drink it chunky. That is their business. I like a cleaner sip with all the flavor and none of the debris. The liquid should be a gorgeous sunset color, somewhere between amber and rose.
Top with the ginger beer, pouring slowly down the inside of the glass so it does not foam over. The ginger beer must be cold and it must be spicy. Those sweet, mild versions have no place here. You want the burn to cut through the sweetness, to make the drink interesting. Stir gently once or twice with a bar spoon to marry everything together without losing all the fizz.
Tuck a fresh peach slice against the inside of the glass where it catches the light. Slap a mint sprig between your palms to wake up the oils, then nestle it into the crushed ice. Hand it to someone you care about and watch their face when they take the first sip. That is the whole point of making drinks: the moment of sharing.
1 serving (about 320g)
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