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.

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.

Certainly the least well-known of our drinks this month, but it’s my favorite! This one was first published in the Café Royal Cocktail Book (1937) in London. The name comes from a luxury train line that ran from New York to Chicago. My little tweak to this one is that I suggest nutmeg as a garnish (at least in fall and winter); chocolate and nutmeg are so great together, especially with the juniper and the spiced notes from the aromatized wine.

The Negroni emerged circa 1920, but doesn’t show up in bar manuals under that name until the ‘40s, when its equal parts mixture of London dry gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari. It was adopted as a favorite of cocktail revivalists in the aughts and 2010s, which has spawned countless variations.

Syllabub is a wine- or cider-based, cream- and egg white-laced drink dating to the Elizabethan period. I added gin for a little Christmas pine flavor and opted for honey over sugar, which has a beautiful conversation with the rose, lemon, and cinnamon. Syllabub, and with its cousin posset, are often cited as predecessors to flip, eggnog, and Tom & Jerry. Over time, syllabub became more and more solid, morphing into an alcohol-laced dessert rather than a drink.

This recipe is an offshoot of a cobbler I developed in 2022. I love this punch version that I adapted for a vernal equinox dance party at my dear friend Michael’s painting studio. It’s fresh and bright with herbal, vegetal, and tannic notes and plenty of botanicals, too, from the blanc vermouth and gin. And the color can’t be beat!

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 Sour is such a part of our culture that it’s hard to digest the fact that it was once a revelation. When it began to rise in popularity around the Civil War period, it was a convenient way to drink something like a Punch in a single serving, without all the fanfare of its more baroque cousin, the Fix. This version, perhaps the most “aperitiki” of our “tropitivo” drinks this month, reads like a pineapple Gimlet that’s ready for the piazza.

The Fizz as a category was popular in the last few decades of the nineteenth century and the first two of the twentieth. This drink is based specifically on the Ramos Gin Fizz, which emerged in the 1880s at the Imperial Cabinet Saloon in New Orleans. Traditionally, it consists of gin, lemon and lime, sugar, orange flower water, cream, egg white, and soda. I saw an opportunity to play with the citrus, and use Aperol and banana liqueur that combine for a fruity profile, almost like creamy strawberry-banana.

I wanted to demonstrate a fancy application for our Club Pimm’s, and I immediately thought of doing a Pimm’s Cup Royale, i.e. topped with Champagne. I also wanted to integrate some of the traditional fruit and mint that are used in Pimm’s Cups and decided a Cobbler format would be the perfect vehicle. Served over crushed or pebble ice, our Pimm’s Royale is, naturally, garnished with abandon.

Here’s a fun serving suggestion for our homemade Club Pimm’s and our cucumber-lemon shrub: a do-it-yourself Pimm’s bar for your next gathering! I’m happy to say that this concept caters to drinkers and non-drinkers alike, so everyone will feel taken care of at your spring (or summer!) soirée.

I see our Club Pimm’s as a pre-batched cocktail, apéritif, and digestif all in one. It occurred to me that, served in the style of amaro caldo, it would make an excellent, warming beverage for a chilly evening or a rainy Sunday afternoon–both common in April where I live. Adjust the recipe below to suit the size of your serving vessel.

I’ve long dreamt of creating my own homemade Pimm’s. The original Pimm’s No.1 is great, but I wanted to come up with something with pronounced bitterness, more body and oomph. I’m really excited about what I came up with–it is both a complete standalone cocktail and an excellent ingredient in mixed drinks.

The Martinez and other early “Martinis,” were a lot like the first Manhattan recipes. Many such recipes called for a 2:1 ratio of vermouth to gin–which you are welcome to try! I went with 1:1 here. The gin, of course, would have been in the sweetened Old Tom style or Holland gin, aka genever. Lemon is traditional, but I went with an orange twist, wrapped around a cherry for visual interest.

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.

As the twentieth century progressed, the Martini became increasingly dry. After Prohibition, the ratio had shifted from 2:1 to 3:1, which I think is the optimal Dry Martini spec. For this particular recipe, I encourage you to find a really beautiful gin to showcase over the standard London Dry options. I love the simplicity of a single olive on a pick here.

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.

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.