This cocktail takes the Daiquiri’s triumvirate of rum, lime and sugar and adds elements from several sours (including the Sophisticate, which was a major influence on this spec) in the Sloppy Joe’s bar manuals from the ‘30s: crème de cacao, vermouth, and egg white. I absolutely love the way this drink turned out, and it’s extra versatile because there are two garnish options: the perennial bitters design or cold weather-friendly dusting of cocoa powder.

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.

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.

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.

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.

John Dabney was so famous for his Mint Juleps that his obituary claimed that he “concocted more mint juleps than any man in the country.” His were rye-based, piled high with crushed ice and garnished with abandon. One description of a Dabney Julep listed mint, a strawberry, cherry, a slice of pineapple, and a pink rose as garnishes.

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.

I noticed this description under a Hawaiian Room drink called the Okoolehao Sling–“A zingy sling of gin and juice in a real coconut”–and took it as a prompt. I wanted to create a fruity coconutty flash-blended drink with a gin base and I couldn’t be happier with the results! Though it does appear in tiki drinks, I see coconut as belonging more to the non-tiki tropical canon we’re (mostly) focusing on this month.

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.

When, in the post-Civil War era, Fancy & Improved Cocktails came on the scene followed by the Vermouth Cocktail and Manhattan, people needed a way to order the more elemental Cocktail and the term “Old-Fashioned” was applied to the simple spirits-sugar-water-bitters formula. This version is an attempt to capture what happened to the Cocktail during the twentieth century–we stop short of muddling fruit but cherry syrup and stirring with an expressed orange peel give it a subtly similar effect. Rye and bourbon are both popular bases for this iteration of the drink.

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.

Call me old-fashioned, but I love Champagne for New Year’s. Is there anything more classic? Though I do like classic Collins-esque Champagne cocktails like the French 75 (especially the Cognac-based kind), a stirred, spirituous base topped with bubbles is more my speed. This one is somehow wintry and tropical all at once, and ever-so-festive.

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.

I love the classic idea of having nuts, chocolate, and dried fruit with coffee and port after dinner. For this recipe, I leaned on the idea of Sangarees and Cobblers, layering flavors over a tannic base and drying the whole thing out with a half-ounce of rye. Pebble ice and a very Victorian garnish make this one quite festive indeed.

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.