With Cinco de Mayo occupying pretty much the same space-time as that colossal full moon last weekend, references such as “la luna magnifico” and “la luna loco” found themselves entering the neighborhood vernacular. And, once the horses up here in the Heber foothills caught wind that the Kentucky Derby was also to be stirred into that day’s fiesta, well, lunacy, both equine and humanoid, became the order of the day.
Just a glance at the quite cluttered kitchen countertop last Saturday morning and you could tell something big was in the offing. What was up, of course, was a major cultural convergence and I, for one, had my ducks in line. The various component parts were in place.
You’d believe me if I said that way more thought and time went into hand-crafting and artistically embellishing my heirloom-quality Kentucky Derby hat than went into the built-from-scratch mint juleps, wouldn’t you? I didn’t think so. Opting for an original custom Joe Quinliven signature chapeau from the Bertagnole Ranch Collection in lieu of some less-lurid off-the-shelf model from Nordstrom, I did turn a few heads, however.
With Cinco de Mayo inhabiting all 24 hours of the day-in-question and the Derby, pitched as “the greatest two minutes in sports,” taking up, pre- and post-race hullabaloo notwithstanding, about 1/720th of that, you’d think most of the energy involved would be directed toward celebrating the Mexican victory over the French in 1862.
You’d think that! And, as far as the culinary arts were concerned, that’s the way it went down. But, actually, the runny huevos rancheros, prefab tamales, wannabe taquitos, and thick kahlua coffees were pretty much effort-free. There was way more energy expended muddling the mint for the juleps than for all the Mexican fare combined.
Somehow the Derby began to take center stage over Cinco de Mayo, which had always been, along with St. Patrick’s Day, a holy day of obligation among us jack-pagans on the street. We revered the manner in which the Norte Americano culture had so seamlessly co-opted, libation-wise, the celebrated Battle of Pueblo down Mexico way during the Lincoln administration.
Nothing is sacred or safe when it comes to thirsty gringos on the lam from the ordinary, and that made the vibe on Cinco Saturday all the weirder when mint juleps and horseflesh-on-the-backstretch caught and passed the favorite, an iced-down batch of margaritas, at the 16th pole.
Blame it on the moon, I say. I’ve done the Kentucky Derby on the 5th of May more than once and have never had a problem giving each culture and sensibility its due. But on those occasions, la luna never once appeared as full of itself as it did last weekend. There was just no escaping the seductive powers of that humongous orb as it began tending toward the infrared portion of the electromagnetic spectrum.
Once it got overhead, you had to squint to see the horses you could hear running laps around their pastures. Air being forced through flared nostrils competed with hooves at a gallop throughout the neighborhood and there was no doubt as to what influence they were under. They were running for their own roses and they didn’t need no stinkin’ Churchill Downs.
In the end, all three entities very much held their own. One of the deepest Kentucky Derby fields in memory provided a wildly exciting come-from-behind stretch-run victory for the underdog West Coast thoroughbred, “I’ll Have Another.” And, at the same time, the “Mint Jaylep” concocted in honor of the Derby by your humble scribe was lauded as the best ever for the occasion by the mixologist himself.
And, of course, there’s the south-of-the-border food and music on the forefront of this, the 150th anniversary of the battle that first gave us Yanquis the Cinco de Mayo siren’s call to sample premium tequilas while behaving foolishly, singing loudly, and dancing ecstatically. Viva la revolución!
But, in these parts anyway, it was all about the moon la luna. “Moonscreen” couldn’t be found on shelves throughout the county. There had been a run on it. Many moonbathers went unprotected as they lolled throughout the night amid sage and rabbitbrush. It was sheer lunacy!
Lucky for me, my Kentucky Derby lid kept the dangerous rays at bay. Not to mention the small-batch bourbon, which, after it had bonded with the well-muddled mint, proved, at its molecular level, to be a quite adequate internal moonscreen, general anesthetic and mood elevator.
So next time a “perigee full moon” is converging for another rendezvous with the Kentucky Derby and Cinco de Mayo, get your mint-muddler game face on and put your money on, first, the Mexicans against the French and, second, whatever West Coast pony crawls out of the barn. A lunatic move, to be sure but out here on the fringe near the 16th pole, anything can happen.
Jay Meehan is a culture junkie and an observer, participant, and chronicler of the Park City and Wasatch County social scenes for the past 40 years.