This classic cocktail entered the cocktail renaissance canon via Ted Saucier’s 1951 book Bottoms Up, where the recipe is credited to the Detroit Athletic Club and an Irish-born vaudeville star called Frank Fogarty. It likely came into being around 1915. The drink’s equal-parts construction balances out the strong flavors of  juniper-heavy London dry gin, herbaceous green Chartreuse, and rich maraschino.

This drink is both a relic of its original period (the years just before Prohibition) as well as of the cocktail revival of the aughts. It became an emblem of a certain kind of “golden-age” cocktail and people are still intrigued by its name and esoteric ingredients. It’s a little bit too floral for my palate these days, but it’s a great drink to have up your sleeve for friends who enjoy flowery gin drinks.

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!

The Cameron’s Kick is a 1920s London classic invented by Harry MacElhone at Ciro’s. He brought it to Paris a couple years later, when he bought the bar at “sank-roo-doe-noo” (5 Rue Daunou) aka Harry’s New-York Bar. The spec published here is how we make it at Gigantic, with a split base of blended Scotch and Irish whiskey with the drink’s classic one-two punch of lemon and orgeat plus Angostura bitters and a float of peaty single malt.

Whiskey Sours with egg white came into favor in the 1920s, almost certainly a product of the vibrant cocktail scene that flourished overseas during Prohibition. It has been called the Boston Sour by some, including, unsurprisingly, the Old Mr. Boston Official Bartender’s Guide, first published in the 1930s. The Rattlesnake, a Savoy Cocktail Book drink, is a Boston Sour with absinthe.

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.

This version of the Daiquiri is based on a 1920s recipe (the “Daiquiri No. 3”) from the Floridita Bar in Havana. Beginning the following decade, the Floridita started serving these frappé with the use of electric blenders, which were a new invention at the time. In this recipe, I’m referencing an older frappé style, serving the drink over crushed or pebble ice. It goes without saying, but Ernest Hemingway was endlessly fond of this drink.

If you were around for Scotch month back in February, you’ll know that I love smoky flavors with grapefruit. This drink takes its structure from the Corpse Reviver No. 2, but borrows the Diki-Diki’s unique combination of Calvados, punsch, and grapefruit. I named this one after Gilbert Rumbold, who illustrated The Savoy Cocktail Book.

I’m not a huge fan of the oft recycled origin stories for cocktails, but I have a soft spot for the one behind the Bentley, which inspired this cocktail. The British racing team won Le Mans in 1927 and the celebration at the Savoy included a signature cocktail built on Calvados and Dubonnet rouge. I took the original formula and added dimension with flavors of juniper, tea, citrus, and black pepper.

Strong, stirred drinks featuring multi-spirit bases are all over The Savoy Cocktail Book. This one was particularly inspired by the Twelve Miles Out cocktail, which featured Calvados, Bacardi rum, and Swedish punsch, and was named for an American silent film that debuted in 1927. Ours is a smoky apple tribute to the stirred and strong drinks served at the Savoy, hence the name.

Here’s a nice little aperitif with multiple inspirations behind it. It’s an ode to the apple brandy highballs from The Savoy Cocktail Book, but also pays tribute to the Norman tradition of Calva-Tonic. We double up the quinine in this version, which gets its tannic baseline from rouge quinquina.