Originally published in 1939 in Charles H. Baker, Jr.’s Gentleman’s Companion, this drink was invented in Havana–either by Wil P. Taylor or Eddie Woelke, who worked for the Hotel Nacional and Casino Nacional respectively. I was inspired by Juyoung Kang’s spec (which I learned about through doing a story on it for Punch), but I put my own spin on it by choosing to use lemon instead of lime.

This is a bonus recipe this month, as it doesn’t fit neatly into any of our prescribed categories. I took inspiration from two drinks: the Golden Glove, a blended orange-inflected Daiquiri from El Floridita in the 1930s, and the Derby Daiquiri, also orangey and dating from the late 1950s, it was an entry into the Rums of Puerto Rico competition. From these, I created a creamsicle-esque rum sour that’s a great addition to our recipe collection this month.

This is the drink that represents the properly-tiki contingent within this month’s recipe collection. Dating to the late 1940s, this rum sour features tiki favorite falernum, as well as orange liqueur; Trader Vic’s book actually calls for Cointreau, but many modern bartenders use Curaçao. I added a touch of simple syrup as well as Angostura, which has a great conversation with the spices in the falernum.

By all accounts, this drink was first published in a RonRico rum recipe pamphlet. Presaging the Swampwater’s combination of green Chartreuse, pineapple, and lime, this complex rum sour also features crème de cacao. I added vanilla syrup and fresh mint for our Club version, and I also have a tequila-based version on Gigantic’s spring menu with yellow Chartreuse called Fun in Acapulco!

The Bali Bali, hailing from the Bali Ha’i at the Beach in New Orleans, is the lesser-known sibling of the Fog Cutter. At first I was stumped about how to bring all the various spirits, juices, and sweeteners into balance, but when it dawned on me that I could structure it like a 1950s Zombie, everything fell into place. I particularly love this presentation, especially if you can get your hands on a vintage tiki-style Collins like the Siestaware glass pictured.

Here’s a delicious blended Gimlet that’s got a great texture to it. Done in the style of blended Cuban Daiquiris like the Golden Glove, this ice-cold drink combines juniper with spices and tart lime for a refreshing, time-travelin’ good time. This drink was popular at both the China Trader in Burbank and Tiki-Ti on Sunset Boulevard during the 1960s.

This is one of three drinks called the Tropical Itch in the tiki canon. It’s not Harry Yee’s original from the Hawaiian Village (bourbon, passionfruit) or Joe Scialom’s version (vodka, rum, mango) from the Shepheard’s Hotel in Cairo, but the gin-rum-mango version from the Kon-Tiki Chicago. Our version adds in some dark rum and cashew orgeat for richness and texture. No back scratcher garnish cause that’s just not my style (and I think it’s kinda gross).

The Saturn is probably the most famous gin-based tiki drink, at least in the twenty-first century. It began life as Filipino-American bartender Popo Galsini’s entry in the International Bartender’s Association’s World Cocktail Championship in 1967. Galsini’s original spec called for gink passion fruit, lemon, orgeat, and falernum. Our Club version swaps in cashew orgeat for the classic almond variety and opts for a blended version, though many prefer their Saturns flash-blended.

The original Angel’s Kiss appears in Harry McElhone’s 1922 book and is simply crème de cacao and cream, layered in a liqueur glass; later recipes add layers of crème Yvette and prunelle. Our Angel’s Kiss recipe reflects more complex members of the Pousse Café family. Its inclusion in this month’s Valentine’s theme is also due to its connection with the ladies’ drink genre and romantic, or even sexy, naming tropes.

This drink comes from Charles H. Baker, Jr.'s 1939 Gentleman’s Companion and is attributed to a bartender named Toyama at a Yokohama dance hall called the Romance Cabaret. The original spec he recorded is a mixture of Cognac, cherry brandy, lime cordial, and lime juice, either shaken or blended. I swapped out the sweet cherry brandy for eau de vie and added chocolate and vanilla flavors for an exceedingly pleasing brandy sour.

The original Lovers’ Delight is quite mysterious; included in a 1937 book out of New Orleans, it simply calls for dry gin to be shaken with “orange ice,” strained, and garnished with nutmeg. I was so intrigued by the orange ice and immediately thought of a citrus granita which, with its little hints of vanilla and chocolate, would be a great standalone dessert or palate cleanser. But I decided to enhance it with a chilled, flavor-packed mixture of Campari, gin, and kirschwasser, finished with sea salt and lemon zest!

The original Passion comes from a book published in London in 1934 called 1700 Cocktails for the Man Behind the Bar by R. de Fleury. It combined equal parts Plymouth gin and passion fruit juice, accented with a dash of absinthe. I took inspiration from a London classic from 70 years later–the Dry Daiquiri–adding Campari and a flamed orange twist and, doubling down on the aughts London vibe, it’s definitely got the Pornstar Martini combo of passionfruit and vanilla, too.

This refreshing mocktail is a kind of Improved Ginger Ale, accented with lemon, raspberry, and Angostura bitters. The name makes me think about the moment in time when the first three Jack’s Manual editions were published (1908, 1910, 1916), the rise of the temperance movement, and teetotalers seeking entertainment at musical and theatrical performances given in auditoriums.

Simply listed as “Milk Shake” in Jack’s Manual, the original version of this drink is just raspberry syrup and milk, shaken with ice. I wanted to make a chocolatey version with more going on, so I made a kind of chocolate-raspberry milk base and added a scoop of chocolate ice cream on top with walnuts, reflecting the rise of the ice cream parlor and its relationship with the temperance movement.

There are a few drinks with the word Elk in the name–Ccoktails, Fizzes, and egg-white Sours. It could be related to the majestic animal, of course, but more likely it’s related to the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, founded soon after the Civil War. This one is a grape juice-based drink with layers of citrus and spice, plus, in our version, true-to-period pineapple syrup.

Acid phosphate was a staple of soda fountains–an acidic solution made with salts of calcium, magnesium, and potassium. Not so easy to come by these days, so I built this recipe with citric acid. Otherwise, it’s pretty close to the recipe in Jack’s Manual, with the additions of vanilla extract and orange oil (it’s shaken with a peel), which bring it even further into Orange Julius territory.

Inspired by Miracle on 34th Street (1947) and the “double-strength” Martinis prepared so Mrs. Shellhammer will agree to letting Kris Kringle live with her and her husband, who is the toy department chief. I decided to make them “double-pine” with extra juniper-y gin, rosemary-infused vermouth, pine liqueur, and a touch of Chartreuse Élixir Végétal. It tastes like a Christmas tree. Garnished with a quick-pickled cranberry on a pick, which looks stunning in a coupe or Martini glass.

I got this idea in my head watching The Bishop's Wife (1947), the story of an angel played by Cary Grant who's trying to save a self-imporant young bishop from losing sight of what's important. In the movie, there's rag-tag children's choir at the little inner-city parish of St. Timothy's (the bishop's former post); given that sherbet punch is thoroughly postwar, I thought the kids in the choir would appreciate this one, and so might the kids in your world! I also made it balanced to please those adults who aren't partaking.

Christmas in Connecticut, a 1945 comedy set in New England features a character called Jefferson Jones who is a returning war hero who had been stuck on a life raft for 18 days and fantasized about real food, including chocolate cake and ice cream. I adore Tom & Jerry and I’m super into this version which features rye whiskey and chocolate stout–it’s the most custardy hot chocolate you’ve ever had. Best enjoyed in a horse-drawn sleigh.

During the part of It’s a Wonderful Life when George Bailey is seeing what the world would be like if he’d never been born. They’re in the town’s bar, which, without George, has turned into a rough and depressing rather than convivial spot. Clarence tries to order a flaming rum punch, then asks instead for “mulled wine, heavy on the cinnamon and light on the cloves.” I decided to combine the two and made sure to use ingredients popular during Clarence’s day, including a mulled wine recipe from Jerry Thomas’s 1862 book.