I first tasted the Mustang cocktail in Montana, on a long, sun-baked summer road trip. After a day spent kicking up dust on old backcountry roads, I wandered into a battered roadhouse marked by a neon horseshoe. Behind the bar was Frank, a leathery old cowboy with a grin like creased leather. He poured me his “signature,” and as soon as I took that first sip – bright, bracing, and mint-kissed – I knew I’d found my new warm-weather standby.
Where the Mustang truly originated is anyone’s guess. Frank insisted it was his grandfather’s invention, polished during the dry Prohibition years, while others in town floated stories of western saloons and resourceful travelers. Wherever it came from, by the 1960s it had become a hush-hush word-of-mouth classic, especially along wide-open highways.
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What made it stand out? Simplicity. It was built on no-nonsense flavors: tart citrus, a slap of fragrant mint, enough sweetness to soften the sharp edges, and the steady warmth of white rum. Nothing fussy – just the kind of easy summer drink you want when you’re dusty, thirsty, and ready to prop your feet up.
Over the years, I’ve made a thousand little variations, tweaking for mood and fridge contents, but I always come back to Frank’s core recipe. It’s become my reliable “company’s here!” drink, and the quickest path to refreshment after mowing the lawn or wrestling with a batch of grill smoke.
Here’s how I do it:
Ingredients:
- 2 oz white rum (I grab Bacardi, but honestly, anything that isn’t bottom-shelf does the trick)
- 1 oz fresh lime juice (bottled stuff just doesn’t cut it)
- ½ oz simple syrup
- A small handful of fresh mint (8-10 leaves or so)
- Club soda, to top
- Splash of grenadine
- Plenty of ice
A highball or Collins glass is ideal – anything tall enough for lots of ice and fizz.
Mixing Instructions:
- Drop mint leaves into your shaker and gently muddle them. Don’t crush them to bits – just enough to release the aroma without turning things bitter.
- Pour in the rum, lime juice, and simple syrup.
- Add ice, cover, and shake until your hands get chilly (about 15 seconds).
- Strain into a glass packed with fresh ice.
- Top off with club soda (a couple of ounces usually; let your taste decide).
- Float a little grenadine over the top for a lazy sunset swirl.
- If the mood strikes, garnish with more mint and a lime wheel.
If you want a booze-free version, just leave out the rum and add a bit more lime juice and club soda. It’s not quite magic, but it’s still mighty nice.
This cocktail is the unsung hero of spicy meals. I’ve served Mustangs with tongue-tingling street tacos, and even my mother-in-law – famously wary of heat – downed hers just fine. It’s lovely with anything from grilled chicken to a simple fruit salad, proof that you don’t need fancy food or complicated drinks to impress.
The recipe forgives a lot. When my mint patch is looking sorry, I’ll swap in basil, which gives a twist that’s subtle but fresh. Dark rum works too if you’re out of the white stuff; it gives the drink a deeper note. I’ve even used agave syrup one lazy night instead of simple syrup – nobody complained.
And if you have stubborn friends who scoff at rum-based cocktails, hand them a Mustang (maybe keep the label secret for the first round). It’s won over more than a few skeptics in my backyard. There’s something about the brightness and balance, especially in the dog days of summer, that just wins people over.
Frank, for the record, would probably make a face at my habit of shaking in a dash or two of hot sauce for a “spicy Mustang,” but I think he’d come around. That warm slow burn is pretty much the perfect echo of a Montana sunset – unexpected, but just right.
