For this flip, I took post-Civil War technique and style and applied it to pre-Civil War ingredients. As we saw with our At Loggerheads a few years back, flips in the eighteenth century were ale-based and served hot. But the Gilded Age brought ice and shakers into the equation and, though beer-based versions did exist (especially with porter), fortified wine as well as spirits took over as the most common base. I love the flavor of this drink, the walnut adds this really pleasant bitterness to the whole thing; it kind of tastes like melted pumpkin ice cream with walnuts on top.

Spirit-forward drinks were exceedingly popular in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century–from Bumbo to Slings, Toddies, Cock-tails, and Black Strap, they’re all just variations on sweetened, diluted spirits. The Cock-tail, of course, is the one with bitters in it. I love maple and walnut together and it works beautifully with the sherry base. Though this recipe features a complex “Improved Cocktail” structure (which dates to later in the 1800s), it could very well have existed during our period of interest!

I always like to include a beer cocktail when we travel to this time and place because they were so incredibly common, it’s almost lying not to have one! Beers brewed with a pumpkin base (once known as pompion ales) originated in the years before the Revolutionary War and pumpkin ales line shelves every fall to this day. This autumnal beer cocktail is named for the original town center in Conway, Massachusetts, which is also the name of this month's theme. This drink is, then, sort of like a title track!

This is an imagined punch that might have been from the early republic with favorite products of the period, all of which would have been available for purchase in olde New English taverns. Aged rum and brandy is just about a classic eighteenth-century punch base as you’ll find and the sherry gives it this wonderful nutty, oxidized flavor. There’s a noble history of using oranges in punch and I really like what it’s doing here! And I really love orange with maple, it’s such an autumnal combination for me; this combo is also featured in my most popular BA recipe ever, the Applejack Sour. And in fact, we’re doing this with apple brandy instead of rum at Gigantic this fall, and it’s delicious both ways!

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 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.

One of many ale-based proto-cocktails popular in eighteenth-century American taverns, I like to think of the Calibogus as the piney cousin of the Rattle-skull. The original Calibogus would have been a simple mixture of rum and spruce ale (a popular antiscorbutic for sailors), possibly flavored with lime juice and a sweetener like molasses. I decided to adapt this recipe by using ubiquitous, hoppy IPA for the ale component and an apple brandy base because it marries nicely with the ale and citrus.

Shrubs were a popular method of preserving fruit in New England during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Though almost all apple cider in those days was fermented, I saw an opportunity here to build a non-alcoholic drink reflecting this month’s historical milieu with sweet, non-alcoholic cider, cranberry shrub, and our ginger-molasses syrup, with lemon juice to bolster the acid and salt and cayenne to liven things up.

Sometimes called Black Stripe, this drink is a toddy-like mixture of rum, molasses, and hot or cold water that comes from the same seafaring roots at Calibogus (and, indeed, early versions at sea contained spruce ale). Blackstrap was one of the most popular tavern drinks of the late eighteenth through mid-nineteenth centuries in rural New England. Our version uses nineteenth-century techniques to revive this forgotten Rum Old-Fashioned ancestor.

This drink is another that was emblematic of American culture in the days of the early Republic but has since been forgotten. Popular in winter, as they were traditionally served hot, Apple Toddy recipes, including the one in Jerry Thomas’s 1862 book, typically call for mixing apple brandy with hot water and baked apple, and topped with nutmeg. Our version is a little more complex, with notes of cranberry, vanilla, spices, and ginger.

Milk Punch–the kind we now differentiate as “clarified”–goes back to at least the early eighteenth century. It’s made by curdling warm milk in a punch mixture then straining it and, thanks to the magic of science, the milk solids make the mixture clear (hence the term “clarified”). Ours has aged rum, Madeira, lime, green tea, sugar, spices, and, well, milk.

Hot Buttered Rum is a drink that has, blessedly, survived into the twenty-first century thanks in large part to its popularity around the holidays. At its most elemental, it’s just rum, sugar, spices, butter, and hot water. I didn’t want to make this variation too overly complicated, but the walnut liqueur, as well as the pumpkin and miso flavors in the syrup, amp up all the best parts of this simple classic while giving it a bit more dimension.

The Stone Fence is a much-mythologized olde Yankee drink consisting of aged rum and hard cider. Supposedly Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys drank a ton of Stone Fences before storming Ticonderoga. In this simple mix of ingredients, I saw the opportunity to play with a bit of anachronism and apply a nineteenth-century template (the Collins) to this eighteenth-century classic.

I love making all manner of Cobblers during the summer when every month brings a new bounty of fresh fruit. But I’ve always wanted to adapt a Cobbler for peak fall and Madeira is the perfect wine for it. I love looking at old pear and apple varietal names and took the name for this drink from a type of pear that’s still grown in western Massachusetts.

Tavern culture was deeply tied with ports, in part because some of its most notable drinks were born at sea, but also because so much of taverns’ stock was imported. The combination of rum and brandy was a common one in eighteenth-century punches, and Madeira was a wildly popular imported wine. Our punch is flavored with a plethora of other valuable imports: spices, ginger, lime, and tea.

The flip began as a sailors’ drink and swiftly infiltrated the taverns of England and “British America.” There, it became a hot drink ー a mixture of ale, spirit, egg, sugar and spices, and sometimes other ingredients. Flips were warmed and frothed by submerging a hot iron poker, called a flip-dog or loggerhead, that had been heated in the tavern hearth. If you’re “at loggerheads” with someone, try offering them a mug of this ー ‘tis hard to stay angry with such a comfort in hand.

Bumbo, or “Bombo” is a rum sling sweetened, diluted spirit flavored with spices. Rum was a major force in eighteenth-century life, whether it was imported from the Caribbean (that was the best stuff) or produced locally in New England from molasses, the most famous of which was produced in Medford, Massachusetts. Like the whole toddy-sling family, Bumbo is among the nearest antecedents of the capital-C Cocktail.

The flip began as a sailors’ drink and swiftly infiltrated the taverns of England and “British America.” There, it became a hot drink ー a mixture of ale, spirit, egg, sugar and spices, and sometimes other ingredients. Flips were warmed and frothed by submerging a hot iron poker, called a flip-dog or loggerhead, that had been heated in the tavern hearth. If you’re “at loggerheads” with someone, try offering them a mug of this ー ‘tis hard to stay angry with such a comfort in hand.

This imagined Julep is one I think could have existed in the 1860s in New England, where October brings Concord grapes, and sage and apples are abundant.

Adapted from Jerry Thomas’s 1862 Fancy Brandy Cocktail recipe, this variation on an Old-Fashioned puts boiled cider in the role of sweetener, which lends a certain dimension to the whole.