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.

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.

This drink name has encompassed a wide range of specs since the turn of the twentieth century, but once it settled in New Orleans, it became the drink that’s still made there today. The now-classic version has aspects of other New Orleans classics, like the Grasshopper and the Ramos Gin Fizz, and its unique combination of ingredients make it sort of like a minty eggnog. The dessert-like drink is said to be the ideal way to begin your Mardi Gras morning.

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.

The original Absinthe Frappé emerged in the later nineteenth century and was one of the first drinks to put absinthe in a starring role. Taking the traditional concept of chilling and diluting absinthe to bring out its flavors and make it palatable, this elegant cocktail is shaken with ice and served over crushed ice. Though anisette is the traditional liqueur in the spec, I found the combination of crème de menthe and fresh mint to be ideal here.

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.

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.

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.

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 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.

The Brainstorm Cocktail was one of several Irish whiskey classics to come out of the early twentieth century. The original recipe combines the Hibernian spirit with dry vermouth and Bénédictine in a template resembling an Improved Cocktail. Our version ditches the boozy herbal liqueur for in favor of crème de banane, and borrows the absinthe spritz and frozen glass presentation from the Sazerac.

Around 1900, a new style of Martini emerged that featured a drier form of gin (specifically Plymouth) and dry vermouth. One example of this style is a variation called the Marguerite. Its ratio is 1:1 in some recipes and 2:1 (gin:vermouth) in others. Orange bitters and anisette also made their way into these specs. This version is a synthesis of extant recipes, with the pleasant addition of blanc vermouth.

Tom Bullock’s Martinez-like Horse Thief Cocktail is perfect as is. What I decided on was to make this a batched version of his original spec, frozen until very cold, and served in frozen, absinthe-spritzed glasses à la Sazerac. I find the result is exceedingly elegant.

An egg-and-cream-laced sour that hews pretty closely to Tom Bullock’s Dream. We’ve swapped in absinthe for the crème de menthe and, with the addition of our cordial, we’ve given the whole thing a Creamsicle, nay Dreamsicle flavor profile.

When I was a young art history student, I ran into a lot of works marked “in the style of” or “a painting after” so and so. Bullock was one of the great figures of the pre- Prohibition era and I felt this naming trope appropriate. He typically served cocktails like this up, a refined presentation we honor here.