My perfect Moscow mule doesn't need alcohol

My first Moscow Mule tasted like a dream, which seems obvious for me. After all, I started and ended as a vodka drinker. I love mint, I love lime, I'm a pig for ginger beer and what is cooler (and looks cooler) than a little copper mug?

"Bartender? Oh bartender, I'll take ten mules — for me — and please give the young lady whatever she wants," seems like the appropriate way to summarize my mule days. 

For me, the hardest part of sobriety is temporarily, or perhaps indefinitely saying that long sad goodbye to craft cocktails. Craft cocktails have been so important to my journey as a wild drinker because they proved to me that I wasn't that wild at all. Those fancy beverages and garnishes taught me to chase exotic taste over the feeling of being twisted. After having my first cucumber gimlet made with fresh lime —  drinking a pedestrian rusty vodka and cranberry or a God awful screwdriver seemed completely ridiculous. Craft cocktail made by mixologist are sort of unobtainable to daily drinkers unless you are at the fancy restaurant every night or lucky enough to be friends with someone who has a heightened level of drink-making skills. 

I was quiet about the immense amount of self-doubt I had when I initially ditched the booze, thinking I was going to see a bearded, man-bun having bartender with the perfect denim to flannel combo wielding a flame over a rocks glass and completely fold. But I remembered, that same kind of mixologist (I hate the word "mixologist") taught me to chase taste over the beautiful buzz that is normally accompanied by the nasty hangover.

I'm a forever sophisticated taste guy and you can accomplish that without booze, which means I can still enjoy my mule, and you can to. 

Here's my recipe, please, please don't try to make this without a copper cop.