So begins the history of the Orange Crush, a drink whose popularity quickly spread, making it a summertime staple at bars and crab shacks not just in Maryland, but all along the Mid-Atlantic coast. Nearly 30 years on, its legend has reached a new inflection point. Thanks to swift legislative action this summer, the Orange Crush is set to become the official state cocktail of the great state of … Delaware.
Yes, the state located just to the north of the drink’s actual cradle was the one to give it this distinction, a move that recognizes the drink’s ascension — but might just be ruffling a few Old Bay-scented feathers.
“Meet you at the boardwalk at noon,” joked Derek Brown, a Washington-based drinks expert who grew up in Maryland. Brown was careful to say that while many Delaware bars make a good crush, bragging rights for the drink should still rightly belong to his native state. “On one side, I do recognize that Delaware has that claim — they’ve made a good Orange Crush,” Brown said. “However, this legislation is a little like saying, ‘I went to your house and stole something and it’s mine now.’ Saying that possession is nine-tenths of the law doesn’t make it so.”
The bill establishing the drink in the First State’s firmament, which the state legislature adopted late last month and now awaits the governor’s pen, does not — exactly — attempt to rewrite the drink’s history. “The Orange Crush cocktail is claimed to have been originated by bartenders in Ocean City, Maryland in 1995,” the legislation states (the added emphasis is ours). But it goes on to make bolder pronouncements: “the Orange Crush has been made famous and become synonymous with Dewey Beach, Delaware,” it reads. And it calls out a legendary beach-town establishment. “The Starboard in Dewey Beach, Delaware perfected the Orange Crush and serves the most Orange Crush cocktails of any bar in Delaware every beach season,” it continues.
But even that last claim isn’t sitting so well with certain Marylanders. “Well, we’ve had it perfected since 1995,” said Lauren Rolleston, a server at the Harborside Bar & Grill who described herself as a born-and-bred Marylander. Rolleston seemed miffed about the neighboring state’s move on the signature cocktail, but stopped short of trash talk. “If Delaware wants to take credit for it, well I don’t know how we feel about that,” she said, with a tone that suggested she pretty much did know how to feel.
Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-Md.) struck a generous note — with just the barest hint of well-disguised shade. “Marylanders aren’t shy about our state pride — we happily share what we have to offer with the nation,” he told The Washington Post in an emailed statement. “That’s why I consider it a compliment that our Eastern Shore neighbors like our Orange Crush so much. But to get the real thing, everyone knows that you have to come to Maryland — I’d be happy to host my Delaware colleagues anytime so they can find out for themselves!”
In other words, the gentlemen from Delaware are oh-so politely invited to get crushed.
The matter even came up on Capitol Hill: During a Wednesday hearing about the March collapse of Baltimore’s Francis Scott Key Bridge, Van Hollen brought up the issue of the cocktail, calling out Sen. Tom Carper (D-Del.). “But Senator Cardin and I are willing to forgive this transgression by the state of Delaware since you’re cooperating with us as a good neighbor on other issues,” Van Hollen allowed.
It’s not like Maryland could ever hide the crush’s light under a crab bushel, anyway. Since its invention, the drink has crept up and down the Eastern Seaboard, with sightings on menus from Florida to New York. It’s most often found in waterfront and beach towns, but it has begun soaking its way into landlocked regions, too.
And even Delawareans are attempting intrastate diplomacy — to a point. “We know we didn’t invent it,” says Steve “Monty” Montgomery, the longtime co-owner of the Starboard. “We’ve just grown it and grown it.”
Perhaps Maryland simply should have moved faster to claim dibs on the drink. The state does not currently have an official cocktail of its own, although in 1998, it designated a state drink: milk.
With the drink’s popularity and increasing reach, it’s possible that it might someday take a spot in the pantheon of classic American cocktails. That status might take more time to attain, Brown says. He found parallels between the crush and the Cape Codder, a similarly simple mixture of vodka and cranberry juice. That drink, which also has strong geographic associations, hails from the mid-1960s. “The Orange Crush just isn’t yet old enough to be considered classic,” he said. “A lot more people have to know it and like it.”
Over the years, the drink has seen its variants multiply. Grapefruit crushes are popular. Old-fashioned crushes might swap bourbon for the vodka. A “skinny” crush uses club soda instead of sweetened.
One thing drink-slingers on either side of the state line can agree on? A crush absolutely must be made with fresh juice. That makes it a more time-consuming drink to serve (and expensive, too, given rising prices on everything, including citrus). But it’s essential, according to Marylanders and Delawareans alike. Crush connoisseurs know to look for an old-fashioned metal juicer sitting atop the bar as a good sign that an establishment is serving true-to-style drinks.
“People try to copy them and make them with orange juice on a gun or a can — and I laugh, because that’s not a true crush,” Montgomery says.
Rolleston concurs. “That,” she says, “is just a screwdriver.”
It’s fun to argue about the mechanics of the Orange Crush. It’s more fun to drink one. In the spirit of community, here are six of our favorite places to get crushed — in Ocean City, at the Delaware beaches, and in D.C., too.
D.C.
801: A sister bar to Dewey’s Starboard and Bethany’s Mango’s, the rooftop bar at 801 features a juicer front and center. While there are variants made with mezcal or limes, nothing beats a straight-up Orange Crush — especially when the price drops to $7 at happy hour.
801 Florida Ave. NW. 801dc.com
Lyman’s Tavern: The owners of the Columbia Heights pinball bar are regular visitors to Dewey Beach, and it shows in their dedicated crush menu. Choose from classics like orange and grapefruit, or try the Strawberry Crush, which adds juice from muddled fruit to lime vodka and soda.
3720 14th St. NW. lymanstaverndc.com.
Maryland
Harborside Bar and Grill: The spiritual home of the Orange Crush sits next to a row of boats along a West Ocean City pier. The no-frills dock bar is packed with customers sipping an endless stream of crushes while listening to live music.
12841 Harbor Rd., Ocean City. weocharborside.com.
M.R. Ducks: Ocean City has adopted the Crush as its own, and you’ll find juicers atop bars at Boardwalk haunts (Hammerhead’s) and biker-friendly dives (the Bearded Clam). On a recent trip, no crush satisfied like a juicy grapefruit version at the venerable M.R. Ducks, paired with waterfront sunset views.
311 Talbot St., Ocean City. mrducks.com.
Delaware
The Starboard: Some might argue whether the Starboard “perfected” the Orange Crush, but there’s no denying that the Dewey Beach hotspot makes a lot of them. For something different, try the Mexican Catapult with tequila and freshly squeezed ruby red grapefruit juice.
2009 Coastal Highway, Dewey Beach. thestarboard.com.
Big Chill Surf Club: Located above the sand in the Delaware Seashore State Park, the Big Chill’s offerings include a Jack Daniels-based crush — think of it as a whiskey-and-orange on vacation — and a refreshing cherry vodka with lime.
27099 Coastal Highway, Bethany Beach. bigchillbeachclub.com.
