The Sourdough Saloon in Yukon territory offers tipples containing a digit – and a British man has promised to donate three frostbitten body parts to the cause

Name: The sourtoe cocktail.

Age: 45.

Appearance: A tumbler filled with a spirit of some kind, usually whisky.

Doesn’t sound wildly interesting. There’s one additional, non-standard ingredient.

Go on ... A mummified toe.

Gulp. Indeed. But don’t gulp too hard or you might swallow it.

I’ll try not to. Where can I try this unlikely concoction? At the Sourdough Saloon in Dawson City.

Where is Dawson City? In Yukon territory, Canada. Head for Alaska and veer right, dodging the bears.

And why do they drink liquor with mummified toes? Good question. First, there’s not a lot to do in Dawson City, especially in the winter. Second, it’s good for business at the saloon. Third, the prevalence of frostbite up near the Arctic Circle means there’s a ready supply of toes to dunk in much-needed strong drinks.

Urgh! How did the tradition start? In the 1920s, miners Otto and Louie Liken did some rum smuggling on the side. On one run, while being pursued by mounties, one of the brothers – there is lively argument over which – got frostbite in a toe. To stop it becoming gangrenous, the other brother hacked – or shot – it off. They kept the trophy in their shack, where it was discovered 50 years later by an entrepreneur. In 1973, he developed the drinking ritual to prove you were a “true Yukoner”.

Any rules? “You can drink it fast, you can drink it slow, but the lips must touch the toe.” You get a certificate if you follow the rule; 100,000 people have qualified.

Is the original toe still in use? Sadly not. In 1980, it was swallowed by a local miner who was trying to beat the sourtoe record. On his 13th cocktail, his chair tipped backwards and he swallowed it. The digit was never found.

But ... Best not to ask. There have been seven toes since, with some being lost or stolen along the way.

The bar must always be on the lookout for more toes. Indeed. Enter Briton Nick Griffiths, a 46-year-old former Marine commando.

I’m sensing this may be the news peg. Well spotted. A little late in the day, but we got there. While training for the 300-mile Yukon Arctic ultramarathon, Griffiths lost three toes to frostbite. A Canadian nurse told him about the cocktail and he’s planning to send his toes to Dawson City as backup. He even hopes one day to go there and drink them.

Not literally. No, just let his lips touch them in the approved manner.

Not to be confused with: Rusty nail, the Savoy corpse reviver, Missouri mule, Madagascan pickled penis sundowner.

You made that up. Of course I did. Who would call a drink a rusty nail?

Do say: “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

Don’t say: “Can I have a sweet sherry instead?”