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.

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.

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.

This Alexander cousin is, by all accounts, original to Bryant’s Cocktail Lounge in Milwaukie, circa the early 1940s. Like the Grasshopper, the Pink Squirrel is traditionally made with two flavorful liqueurs and either cream or ice cream, but our version dries things out and adds a touch of bitterness with brandy, blanc quinquina, and a barspoon of Peychaud’s. I like the dusting of cocoa powder, both aesthetically and for the way it bolsters the crème de cacao.

I first encountered this cocktail when I was assigned a story about the Metexa for Punch. Originally, it called for blanc quinquina, blanco tequila, and Swedish punsch, a liqueur with notes of spice, citrus and tea. I was fascinated by the structure of the drink, which leaned heavily on the fortified wine. For this version, the wine stays in the starring role, but I swapped out the moody, broody Swedish punsch in favor of summery apricot liqueur and added a little spicy habanero shrub and saline for dimension.

This tequila sour with orange juice and grenadine sounds a lot like a precursor to the Tequila Sunrise, so I created a Jalisco that is a lime-and-orange tequila sour balanced with rich simple and flavored with a touch of habanero shrub. In place of grenadine, I reached for the Campari that was already on our supply list. It makes for a far more balanced “sink” than grenadine and the visual is stunning!

The original standard-bearer drink of the California Tropical movement (later known as “tiki). This is the first and best example of the Don the Beachcomber method of splitting each element in a Planter’s Punch (rum, juice, sweetener) between multiple products to create complexity. Imitations sprung up almost immediately and the Zombie helped to spread “tiki” around the world.

Another early Don the Beachcomber drink, the Cobra’s Fang originally called for a blend of pot-stilled Jamaican rum and aged Demerara 151. A close cousin to the original Zombie, at its heart is a combination of lime, orange, passion fruit and falernum, with Angostura bitters and absinthe. At Gigantic, we simplify the base to just an ounce-and-a-half of 151 (reflecting the slightly later Kon-Tiki version) and amp up the spiced notes with cinnamon syrup.

Originally the Demerara Dry Float was built on aged and overproof Demerara rums, maraschino liqueur, passion fruit, lots of lime, a touch of lemon, and demerara syrup. It came in a distinctive glass with the overproof rum in a shot glass on the side. The Mai-Kai also served a version of this cocktail for decades.Gigantic's version is similar to the one served at Latitude 29 in New Orleans, which is done in the style of a Daiquiri.

It's no surprise that brandies have often been used in cocktails royale and these two drinks are excellent examples of the form. They have the same basic underlying concept: a champagne cocktail with absinthe and bitters and a bit of brandy (apple for the Deauville, grape for the Casino). I also give the option here of using pineapple syrup, which is a nod to the 1925 drink, Train Bleu, as well as Harry Johnson's Gilded-Age Saratoga spec.

I knew I really wanted to have a gin drink in the mix for our Parisian Cocktails Royale theme, and I found this one in a lesser known book called Recette des Cocktails pour 1929 by E. Milhorat and J. Alimbau. Its combination of London dry gin and cherry liqueur, plus Angostura bitters, makes for a spiced fruit-and-pine base upon which to layer dry, bubbly wine. It’s my favorite this month!

With a name like this, it’s no wonder this cocktail has survived into the modern age; originally “corpse reviver” was a catch-all term for a hangover cure, but none has been more famous than this version. The other reason it’s survived is that it appears in the Savoy Cocktail Book (1930), one of the most popular cocktail guides of the twentieth century. Its equal-parts structure, bright ingredients, and absinthe rinse make this a perennially delightful sour.

Certainly the least well-known of our drinks this month, but it’s my favorite! This one was first published in the Café Royal Cocktail Book (1937) in London. The name comes from a luxury train line that ran from New York to Chicago. My little tweak to this one is that I suggest nutmeg as a garnish (at least in fall and winter); chocolate and nutmeg are so great together, especially with the juniper and the spiced notes from the aromatized wine.

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.