Longtime Club members might remember this one from the beta test month I ran back in August of 2020, wherein this drink was called The Tall Man from Havana. It has since become a Gigantic classic, where it began traveling under the name Havana Moon (named for the Chuck Berry song). The inspiration was the “Sloppy Joe’s,” the bar’s eponymous drink that combined brandy, port, pineapple, grenadine, and Curaçao. A very good example of the pre-tiki tropical genre.

The Mary Pickford appears in the Sloppy Joe’s books–a mix of rum, grenadine, pineapple, and maraschino liqueur. I took that inspiration, subbed crème de cacao in for the maraschino, added lime for acid, and a small measure of Cognac for vanilla and dried fruit notes. Pickford was a movie star, director and producer; I named this after her little sister, Charlotte, who was also an actor.

As you know, my historically-driven palate favors the spirits that were popular in 19th-century juleps, i.e. rye, Cognac, and rum. For my own julep recipe, I wanted to combine these three in equal parts with a favorite amaro (Braulio or dell’erborista are particularly good here, but there are many that would work!). I also decided to make the garnish do a little aromatic work, hence the nutmeg and shaved coffee bean, which hit the nose along with the mint upon first sip. The sherry float also contributes a nice aroma if desired!

This recipe, based on one from the 1850s, gives a window into what pre-Civil War juleps looked like after ice had established itself as an essential part of the drink. The mixture of Cognac and rye and the slight presence of Jamaican rum illustrate the julep’s former life as a rum drink and the preference for a brandy base during this period while also foreshadowing the rise of rye juleps that would come after the Civil War (see Dabney Julep from our Pre-Civil War Black Tavern-keepers theme). NB: crushed ice is preferred over pebble here.

Also known as flap-dragon, this Elizabethan game involves trying to pick dried fruit and nuts out of a bowl of flaming brandy. Yes, it’s dangerous and, yes, it was played by children (as well as adults) from the sixteenth century through the Victorian period. It’s closely associated with the Christmas season and, in the United States, it also became a common amusement on All Hallows’ Eve.

Back in 2020, I developed a series of three drinks for my Lords of Misrule series, including this recipe, which was originally a single-serving punch. Its ingredients tell the story of the late Tudor (i.e. Elizabethan) period, when the English became the dastardly colonizers we now know them to be. In this large-format version, brandy (either Spanish or French) comes together with funky Batavia arrack (the original punch base!), oxidized sherry, Swedish Punsch (a punch within a punch), allspice dram, tea, and sugar for a punch with notes of dried fig, tropical fruit, nuts and spices, and a hint of smokiness.

A menu for Othello Pollard’s Boston restaurant from 1803 listed Solid Arguments (foods), Agitations (acidic things), Grievances (spicy things), Superfluities (sweets) and Punishments (alcohol). Under punishments one finds “ice-punch,” a version of the already very entrenched crowd-pleasing drink served on the new craze: ice. Below is our imagined vision of what may have been in that punch.

There are two schools on the history of the Hail-storm and my suspicion is that they have both been true and different points in history. One is that “Hail-storm” is just another term for a Mint Julep, and the other is that the drink was sweetened brandy served over ice. I opted to explore the latter here, making it a nice chilled capital-C Cocktail–a drink that otherwise remained room temp for much longer than contemporaries like the Cobbler, Fix, etc.

Like many of the Black culinarians we’re learning about this month, Thomas Downing was not considered a bartender, but a restaurateur who ran an oyster cellar and catering business. But we know he served drinks at his establishment and, as Cobblers were the order of the day, I opted to create one with Madeira and brandy which were en vogue in New York City during Downing’s heyday.

Paul Girault’s original Colombe cocktail, served at Café de La Paix, was a modified Champagne cocktail fortified with Cognac and cherry and orange liqueurs. I’ve adapted it to suit our supply list this month, keeping the Cognac and orange liqueur, using grenadine to hint at the conflation of grenadine and cherry syrup, and “improving” the mixture with absinthe and Angostura bitters. The snifter is a nod to the Cognac base.

A sour that was popular at the Ritz Bar in Paris in the 1920s, the Sidecar traveled across the Atlantic and became a favorite drink in the U.S. during Prohibition. I took the spec developed by Ned King (get it? roi!) at Gigantic, which uses honey syrup in addition to orange liqueur; I decided to embrace the traditional sugar rim garnish, giving it dimension by adding chamomile.

The French 75 is traditionally made with Cognac or gin, lemon, sugar, and Champagne. I favor the Cognac version–which lives on as a New Orleans classic. I thought it would be fun to make a version inspired by Normandy, using Calvados in place of Cognac and, mirroring the grapes-on-grapes dynamic of the original, to pair the French apple brandy with dry cider in place of Champagne.

The Jack Rose wasn’t invented in Paris, but it made a name for itself in the French capital’s expat scene. Though several versions exist, at times including orange juice, liqueurs, or vermouth, the version from Hugo Ensslin’s 1917 Recipes for Mixed Drinks is elemental and delicious. Our version calls on two French brandies–the Calvados as a nod to the American apple brandy of the original, and Cognac–along with a little absinthe for dimension.

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.

By the 1860s, it was common practice to add liqueurs–Curaçao and maraschino in the early days–to the Cocktail’s original formula. The term “Fancy Cocktail” typically denotes this addition and the assurance of a lemon twist, too. “Improved Cocktails” typically layer yet more flavor, with absinthe, multiple liqueurs, or a combination of bitters. The recipe below is technically an Improved Cocktail, though omitting the absinthe will knock it down to the “Fancy” level.

The drink from which so many have sprung–the Cock-Tail originated in the late eighteenth century and, by 1806 was codified as a “bittered sling,” i.e. a combination of spirit, sugar, water, and bitters. The method of preparing the cocktail without ice yields a cool but not ice-cold drink, allowing the character of the Holland gin (genever) or French brandy (Cognac) to shine.

What ever happened to the fruit basket? There’s a very striking cover on the December 1947 edition of Gourmet that features a big fruit basket, ham, Champagne, and cigars in front of a Christmas tree. This punch is my attempt at an ode to the once-prized Christmas tradition, the noble fruit basket.

This particular style of milk punch–far milkier than the “clarified” kind–is associated closely with New Orleans, where it transitioned from being served in a large format to individual servings. The traditional base is brandy or bourbon, but our version combines brandy (specifically Cognac) with rye and spikes the whole thing with notes of coffee and chocolate.

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.

The Sazerac is an institution and I love the rye-based versions dearly. But I also like split-base recipes that recognize the Cognac roots of the cocktail (and Cognac-only versions too!). This version of the Sazerac plays up the cocktail’s “Improved” qualities, splitting the aromatic ingredients between four different products, as well as splitting the base.