This Bourbon Iced Tea is the perfect cocktail for summertime "porch sittin’ and afternoon sippin"

I am pretty sure no one needs to be convinced of how important — how much a part of the culture — iced tea, sweet tea specifically, is in the South. Evidence abounds that as a whole southerners zealously love it, and it is ever-present in homes and restaurants throughout all the southern states.

Yes, I know, the South did not invent sweet tea — or big hair or monogramed towels, for that matter — but we have “southernized” it to the point of it being paradigmatic of our culture.

As far as our tea goes, we like it with lots of ice, and we like it teeth-meltingly sweet, or at least that is how our collective reputation precedes us. Exactly what constitutes proper sweetness is debatable, but I can attest that we drink and serve tea with gusto any day of any season and it is on the menu for all occasions. We like it in sickness and in health, no matter rain or shine, and we intend to never part with it. It is our forever and ever and always. (I feel I should add an Amen.) 

Sweet tea on a hot, balmy summer day revives and refreshes a body like few other things in this world, and perfectly sweet tea is where this ideal porch sipping cocktail starts.

I can all but promise, one sip will bring you back to the South if you have ever spent time here, and a few more sips might inspire you to pick up that Faulkner novel you never finished. You will fast be dreaming of a cool breeze under a canopy of mossy live oaks and waxing poetic about longleaf southern pines and fragrant magnolias. Bourbon and sweet tea enhanced with a little citrus; you would be hard pressed to find a cocktail more satisfying. 

I still make my own tea. It is nostalgic for me and a ritual of sorts: get out tea pitcher, boil water, open tea bags, steep tea, add sugar, remove bags… Maybe you too have a recipe or way of making tea that has been repeated so often over your lifetime that is now muscle memory, no longer requiring thought. Perhaps your method is your grandmother’s or a favorite aunt’s or uncle’s.

If, like me, you still make your own tea, then you and I may be of a dwindling few who have not turned it over to Milo’s or some other bottled tea company. I hear Milo’s, in those lovely plastic gallon milk jugs, is just great. I can hear my tacky-judgy voice as I write that, and I should reign it in. People absolutely love Milo’s tea (and others) and claim it is better than or just as good as any they have ever had. Heck, I have probably had it and not even known it, but I, for one, have not and will not be buying it. I have my principles. 

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When you are served a particularly excellent glass of tea and want the specifics from its maker, it can be nearly impossible to pin down. Despite being made nearly daily in many households and being as relied upon as one’s recipe for cornbread or deviled eggs, few can tell you their exact proportions. The conversation will go something like this: 

“Well, let’s see. My ice tea pitcher is a half gallon, but of course I don’t fill it up all the way. But for my pitcher, I use one family size tea bag or two normal sized bags [Lipton or Luzianne will be specified]. Now, the sugar scoop in my canister is a half cup, and I use two scoops . . . but not full scoops. My grandmother put two full scoops, but I always “shorted” a bit to make it a little less unhealthy. My husband swears by adding a pinch of baking soda, but I can’t tell the difference one way or the other. He says it improves the ‘tannin and lignin extraction from the tea leaves,’ and I guess his family thought that was important. We never did that.”

Bourbon Iced Tea Slush, as well as pitchers of Bourbon Iced Tea, were summertime staples at family and friends’ river and bay houses. My friends and I would invariably migrate to the sweeping wrap-around, screened-in porches that were common to these pretty homes on the water. Typically, these gatherings occurred when a big Sunday sit-down dinner was planned.

Everyone stayed in their church clothes, or slightly pared down versions, (truth be told: not all of us had even made it to church that morning), and we enjoyed taking it easy, stretching out the last of the weekend, relaxing as the bright glaring afternoon light slowly faded into soft pastel shades that made the colors of the trees even greener. Lots of laughter and both serious and casual conversations, mostly stemming from what had been in the Sunday paper that morning, kept the atmosphere lively, but it was college football, not politics, back then that elicited the most passionate disagreements and verbal assaults. 

Of course, not all of us drank bourbon; in fact, as I recall, it was mostly the over-50 crowd and mostly the men. Not all the iced tea was spiked, and not all the tea was even sweet. But as I remember, the “unsweet” was not in one of the pretty pitchers, but rather in plastic pitchers with “UNSWEET” written on a piece of masking tape and affixed to the top, like it was being punished for being so plain. 

Those were good days. I loved those days and those beautiful evenings filled with quick wit and sassy banter, and this cocktail tastes just like all of it poured into a glass.