This is probably the drink that first comes to mind when you think of juleps (unless your brain is stuck in the 19th century like me)! The bourbon-based julep is the one that has survived into the modern age, thanks in no small part to its connection with the Kentucky Derby. For this recipe, I wanted it to be exceedingly elemental. Since we’ve combined the sugar and mint in our mint syrup already, this julep requires but two ingredients (plus a big bouquet of mint, of course). It is simplicity at its finest!

This obscure gem from the Savoy Cocktail Book (1930) illustrates the power of absinthe as the sole base for a sour. Because of the strength of the base spirit, the ratios of this drink are all topsy-turvy in a most intriguing way–two parts lemon to one part each absinthe and simple syrup; a touch of saline is advised. It sits on the edge of being too tart, but this sour’s complex herbaceous undertones keep you coming back for another sip until, suddenly, you’ve finished it.

Ernest Hemingway is associated with a fair few drinks, but this is one that he invented, or at least was the first to publish a recipe for. The simple mix of absinthe and Champagne was featured in a 1935 book of writers’ favorite cocktails called So Red the Nose, or, Breath in the Afternoon. Many modern variations add a little simple syrup, which I like for texture here; bitters and a lemon twist push it pleasantly into Champagne Cocktail territory.

As I was developing this month’s recipes (originating with the Isle of Skye and Cameron’s Kick), I saw the potential for a Rusty Nail-Godfather “mash-up” that would please any fan of stirred, spirit-forward drinks. The resulting cocktail is the best of both worlds–heather and honey from the Drambuie and nutty almond flavor and texture from the orgeat. Though both are associated with the postwar “bachelor drinks” boom, the Rusty Nail dates to the 1930s, far before the birth of the disco-era Godfather.

The Mai Tai didn’t originate in Hawaii, but in the archipelago’s postwar tourism boom, the drink was quickly adopted into its hotel and bar culture. The drink developed into a fruitier, less strictly-defined subgenre unto itself, with orange and pineapple popping up frequently. Our version opts for passionfruit (which I love), layered over my own Banana Mai Tai recipe.

I noticed this description under a Hawaiian Room drink called the Okoolehao Sling–“A zingy sling of gin and juice in a real coconut”–and took it as a prompt. I wanted to create a fruity coconutty flash-blended drink with a gin base and I couldn’t be happier with the results! Though it does appear in tiki drinks, I see coconut as belonging more to the non-tiki tropical canon we’re (mostly) focusing on this month.

The Halekulani–a whiskey-based sour with lemon, orange, pineapple, demerara sugar, grenadine, and bitters–has always intrigued me. Another non-rum tropical drink from Hawaiian hotel history, this one originated at the House Without a Key Lounge at Waikiki’s Halekulani Hotel. I decided to turn this into a stirred, spirit-forward drink–the result is a tropical Improved Cocktail with a nod to all of the original elements, plus our banana mix and a touch of absinthe.

This drink originated at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Honolulu and is a prime example of the non-tiki tropical canon. I wanted to improve the recipe while also playing up the pre-WWII orgeat sours that came before it, like the Cameron’s Kick and the Army & Navy. I did so with bitters and an absinthe rinse–the latter touch is reminiscent of the Corpse Reviver No. 2 and the Rattlesnake.

This drink appears in the 1938 book New Orleans Drinks and How to Mix ‘Em. I chose it to kick off Margarita Month as an example of an early tequila sour. We had this on a classics menu at Gigantic, where Ned King and Kris Kirkland tweaked the spec to create this fantastic, slightly smoky riff on the original. It’s fun to do a tropical presentation with this drink (crushed ice, mint garnish, bitters dashed atop), as it’s akin to an agave-spirit Daiquiri.

The classic spec for a Margarita started firming up in the late 1930s, though not necessarily going by its now-famous name yet. The drink took hold of America in the 1950s on a grand scale and this classic version with orange liqueur served up reflects the drink’s aesthetic at the time. The sugar-salt rim sprang from my fascination with people who order sugar rims on their Margaritas, but trust me on this one–it works!

Spirit-forward drinks were stars of the Cocktail Renaissance–and they haven’t strayed much from the formula that was set over 200 years ago. This recipe reflects the resurgence of “old-world” spirits like Cognac and genever as well as the return of rye as a base for cocktails. The bitters in this Old-Fashioned come in the form of amaro, a darling of contemporary American cocktail culture. This drink harkens back to my Al-Pino Old-Fashioned recipe, which I developed in 2018 (original) and 2021 (2.0) respectively.

When, in the post-Civil War era, Fancy & Improved Cocktails came on the scene followed by the Vermouth Cocktail and Manhattan, people needed a way to order the more elemental Cocktail and the term “Old-Fashioned” was applied to the simple spirits-sugar-water-bitters formula. This version is an attempt to capture what happened to the Cocktail during the twentieth century–we stop short of muddling fruit but cherry syrup and stirring with an expressed orange peel give it a subtly similar effect. Rye and bourbon are both popular bases for this iteration of the drink.

This drink is essentially a Vieux Carré with coffee liqueur subbed in for the Bénédictine, but with a touch of absinthe–influenced by both the Sazerac and Cocktail à la Louisiane. The cocktail bears a resemblance to my After-Dinner Manhattan from a few years back, which I designed for a customer who was craving coffee in her nightcap.

Nothing could ever top the Fort Defiance Irish Coffee; built like a boozy Americano and sweetened with a basic simple syrup, it’s the pinnacle of the form. However, I was intrigued by the idea of adding some tropical flair to this classic, and I like what the lime and banana achieve here. I named this version after the county where the Shannon Airport is located, an important place in the history of Irish Coffee.

As the twentieth century progressed, the Martini became increasingly dry. After Prohibition, the ratio had shifted from 2:1 to 3:1, which I think is the optimal Dry Martini spec. For this particular recipe, I encourage you to find a really beautiful gin to showcase over the standard London Dry options. I love the simplicity of a single olive on a pick here.

The Mai Tai is Victor “Trader Vic” Bergeron’s most famous creation and one of the great drinks of the tiki canon. Rum expert Shannon Mustipher’s version offers the ingenious introduction of a small measure of unaged rhum agricole. I’ve made just a couple of slight alterations based on our supply list.

Planter’s Punch is a centuries-old Caribbean recipe and was the basis for Donn Beach’s earliest “Rum Rhapsodies.” St. John Frizell and his bar staff at Gage & Tollner serve this excellent rendition of the classic, which appeared on the G&T cocktail list in the 1940s, and likely before.

Ned King helped me immensely in planning this month, including bringing this post-WWII Zombie to my attention. Though different from the 1930s Zombie, this version reads as a direct descendent of Planter’s Punch. I’ve made a couple of changes to Ned’s spec based on what we have on hand this month.

This is a Don the Beachcomber original from 1937. Ned King has spent a lot of time perfecting this recipe, which is fresh and bright. We’ve taken a couple of small liberties to minimize our supply list, but the spirit of Ned’s spec for this early tiki classic shines through.