There are two very similar crème de noyaux-laced recipes for Martini-like drinks that emerged in London and Paris during the 1920s: the Old Etonian and the Fairbank Cocktail. The former features a 1:1 ratio of dry gin to blanc quinquina, while the latter tips the scale in the gin direction and calls for dry vermouth instead of quinquina. Both have a slight almondy flavor and reflect the “wetter” Martini style of the period.

Dating to 1922 and Harry’s ABC of Mixing Cocktails, the original recipe for the Jockey Club is basically like a Brandy Crusta with London dry gin in place of the brandy and crème de noyaux in place of maraschino. I decided to take these ingredients and structure it more like a Sidecar, upping the liqueur and citrus components while still retaining the bitters, which I quite like.

Given how intertwined the histories of cocktails and musical theater have been, it’s no surprise that Gilbert & Sullivan’s most problematic operetta has a cocktail named after it. The Mikado–originally an Improved Brandy Cocktail with crème de noyaux, Curaçao, orgeat, and Angostura bitters–has an ancestor in the Japanese Cocktail (brandy, orgeat, bitters) from 1862. Our version ditches the Curaçao and orgeat in favor of crème de cacao and blanc quinquina; a grapefruit twist bolsters the bitterness.

This Alexander cousin is, by all accounts, original to Bryant’s Cocktail Lounge in Milwaukie, circa the early 1940s. Like the Grasshopper, the Pink Squirrel is traditionally made with two flavorful liqueurs and either cream or ice cream, but our version dries things out and adds a touch of bitterness with brandy, blanc quinquina, and a barspoon of Peychaud’s. I like the dusting of cocoa powder, both aesthetically and for the way it bolsters the crème de cacao.

The Pink Lady is a drink originating in the 1910s that features a split base of dry gin and apple brandy. Most specs include egg white and some include cream. I based our version on Harry McElhone’s recipe from his ABC of Mixing Cocktails, published in London in 1922, which does include both egg white and cream. Gorgeous color, delicious, and looks so good with a bitters design on top.

One of the most famous tropical drinks of all time, the Piña Colada as we know it emerged in the late 1950s and early '60s in Puerto Rico, though close antecedents had existed before. This is Molly Gajdosik's excellent recipe, which they say was inspired by Garret Richard's spec. It's complicated but so worth it!

The Tom Collins had yet another life after World War II. That’s like four lives now! The postwar suburbanization of the United States, combined with the lasting effects of Prohibition, severely narrowed the once-massive canon of American drinks–but the Collins remained. In this period, it solidified into the classic form we know today; meanwhile, the John Collins ditched genever in favor of American whiskey. I added the Angostura bitters based on a 1949 recipe from the Esquire Handbook for Hosts.

The original standard-bearer drink of the California Tropical movement (later known as “tiki). This is the first and best example of the Don the Beachcomber method of splitting each element in a Planter’s Punch (rum, juice, sweetener) between multiple products to create complexity. Imitations sprung up almost immediately and the Zombie helped to spread “tiki” around the world.

Another early Don the Beachcomber drink, the Cobra’s Fang originally called for a blend of pot-stilled Jamaican rum and aged Demerara 151. A close cousin to the original Zombie, at its heart is a combination of lime, orange, passion fruit and falernum, with Angostura bitters and absinthe. At Gigantic, we simplify the base to just an ounce-and-a-half of 151 (reflecting the slightly later Kon-Tiki version) and amp up the spiced notes with cinnamon syrup.

Though some form of the Skull & Bones appears on a 1940s menu from Don the Beachcomber, the version this recipe is based on dates to the 1960s. It was recounted by Tony Ramos, who had worked at Don the Beachcomber locations in Palm Springs and San Diego, as well as the Luau and the China Trader in Burbank. The Skull & Bones is a wonderfully layered cocktail that’s also striking in presentation–and it’s always a favorite on the Gigantic tiki menu.

The Chocolate Martini is an interesting member of our motley ‘tini crew this month, as it claims roots in the postwar era. The possibly apocryphal story is that Rock Hudson and Elizabeth Taylor invented it on the set of Giant (1956), which is a stunning movie that was filmed mostly in Marfa, Texas. The sweet vodka-based concoction was adopted by the ‘tini craze in the ‘80s and ‘90s and it’s still ordered in bars today by lovers of dessert drinks.

It's no surprise that brandies have often been used in cocktails royale and these two drinks are excellent examples of the form. They have the same basic underlying concept: a champagne cocktail with absinthe and bitters and a bit of brandy (apple for the Deauville, grape for the Casino). I also give the option here of using pineapple syrup, which is a nod to the 1925 drink, Train Bleu, as well as Harry Johnson's Gilded-Age Saratoga spec.

I knew I really wanted to have a gin drink in the mix for our Parisian Cocktails Royale theme, and I found this one in a lesser known book called Recette des Cocktails pour 1929 by E. Milhorat and J. Alimbau. Its combination of London dry gin and cherry liqueur, plus Angostura bitters, makes for a spiced fruit-and-pine base upon which to layer dry, bubbly wine. It’s my favorite this month!

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.