In November 1921, federal prohibition officers descended on Clarendon, seizing some 200,000 gallons of moonshine and arresting 14 bootleggers in a raid The Washington Times reported as the biggest bust since alcohol had been outlawed in the U.S. 22 months earlier.
According to the Arlington Historical Society, the raid prompted threats from Arlington’s so-called “back country” men, who vowed that subsequent crackdowns on illegal booze would be met with armed resistance.
Moonshine (so named because it was often made after dark), an unaged spirit derived from corn mash, may have been contraband, but it was part of the local way of life. Unlike the high-volume traffickers targeted by law enforcement, most residents who dabbled in distilling were producing only small quantities to share with family and friends.
More than a century later, ’shine is not only legal, it’s a staple in the high art of mixology. Small-batch versions, considerably smoother than their predecessors, now line the shelves of Virginia ABC stores. At Nettie’s Tavern, an Appalachian-themed watering hole that opened in Clarendon this summer, Climax Moonshine produced in nearby Culpeper is the star of the bar’s signature Nettie’s Tea.
“It’s kind of like an orange crush, but with fresh lemon juice, house-brewed iced tea and a mint simple syrup that we also make in-house,” says owner Reese Gardner, an Arlington resident who grew up in the Allegheny Mountains near Altoona, Pennsylvania. These days, his home away from home is a cabin in West Virginia.
Nettie’s is a tribute to a woman Gardner befriended at a dive bar near Berkeley Springs. “Nettie would put moonshine in her porch tea over ice,” he says. “We’ve spiced up her version and elevated it a bit.” (Her raucous and unfiltered stories are chronicled in a memoir by the same name that Gardner self-published in July.)
Moonshine’s relatively flavorless profile, similar to vodka, lends itself to all kinds of infusions. At Nettie’s, connoisseurs can also order flights featuring seasonal variations such as cherry, apple and pickle. The ever-changing flavors, Gardner says, are also reflective of Appalachian tradition.
“Everyone trades,” he explains of the region’s barter economy. Even today, residents of small mountain communities are apt to exchange goods—from firewood and chicken eggs to venison jerky—in lieu of retail shopping. Seasonal produce is a popular commodity. “One neighbor will have apple pie, or strawberries, blueberries or pears, depending on what’s growing,” he says. And those yields inevitably find their way to the still.