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.

This is a little-known Mojito riff dating from the early 1930s at Sloppy Joe’s. It has everything you’d expect from a Mojito–rum, lime, sugar, mint, and soda–but adds a little bit of “French vermouth,” which I interpret here as blanc (or bianco if it’s an Italian producer). This small change adds a slightly floral note and bolsters the lime’s acidity. I like the channel-knife lime peel garnish here along with a big bouquet of mint, of course.

The Margarita is the most popular cocktail in the U.S. and variations on the template always sell well. This is my take on an aperitivo-friendly Margarita. A split base of smoky mezcal and lightly-aged reposado come together with aperitivo wine, lime, grapefruit, and agave, for an exceedingly refreshing, sort of Italianate Margarita. A salt rim tastes great here.

This is the “root drink” for this month’s recipes. It was one of those cocktails that I thought up, tried, and loved right away! This spirit-forward, bittersweet drink is adjacent to two well-known agave-based Negroni riffs: the Rosita (tequila, sweet vermouth, dry vermouth, aperitivo liqueur) and the Oaxacan Negroni (mezcal, sweet vermouth, Campari). For a little extra bitterness, opt for a grapefruit twist; orange works great here, too.

This is an exceedingly refreshing beer cocktail that’s absolutely perfect for summer. I took inspiration from several templates: the Paloma (tequila, lime, grapefruit, sugar, soda), Radlers (beer, grapefruit), the Spaghett (domestic lager, Aperol, lemon), and the Michelada (Mexican lager, salt, lime, spice sometimes tomato juice, Clamato and other ingredients).

This year, my brilliant friend and colleague Kris Kirkland came up with a drink called the Rhinestone Cowboy for the Gigantic spring menu. It consists of mezcal, reposado tequila, Cocchi Rosa, peach liqueur, grapefruit, lime, frozen peach chunks, agave, and basil. I wanted to do something similar with strawberry, so I cut out the mezcal’s smokiness in favor of more vanilla flavor from the tequila and aperitivo liqueur. The results are delicious!

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.

‘Wassail’ comes from the Middle English wæs hæil, and from the Old Norse before that ves heill meaning something akin to “be you in good health.” This classic medieval beverage, typically made from a combination of cider, ale and, later, fortified wine, has great significance in English drinking history and was popular during the Tudor period. ‘Tis truly supreme with the eggs, but if you must omit them for dietary reasons, ‘twill be delicious all the same.

Back in 2020, I developed a series of three drinks for my Lords of Misrule series, including this recipe, which was originally a single-serving punch. Its ingredients tell the story of the late Tudor (i.e. Elizabethan) period, when the English became the dastardly colonizers we now know them to be. In this large-format version, brandy (either Spanish or French) comes together with funky Batavia arrack (the original punch base!), oxidized sherry, Swedish Punsch (a punch within a punch), allspice dram, tea, and sugar for a punch with notes of dried fig, tropical fruit, nuts and spices, and a hint of smokiness.

I wanted to do a fizz for this month (I do so love a fizz!), but all the combos I tried fell flat! Instead, I decided to eliminate the soda element and incorporate a whole egg instead of just egg white, making it a classic nineteenth-century flip. The resulting cocktail, with smoky, spiced, and tropical flavors is an excellent dessert drink befitting any cold-weather gathering.

I developed this drink for Gigantic’s Fall 2023 menu; the original recipe called for genever but, as I’ve often likened the Dutch spirit’s gentle maltiness to that of Irish whiskey, this month’s supply list set the stage for an easy substitution. This sour’s blend of citrus, banana, spices, and honey bolstering the malty and peaty spirits makes for a delightful ode to the birthplace of Drambuie.

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.

The Whiskey Sour was one of the vestiges of nineteenth-century mixology to survive Prohibition and experience broad popularity during the postwar period. This is my take on what a really good bourbon-based sour reflective of that period should be with the iconic orange-and-cherry garnish. If you make it with vanilla syrup, it’s got a really nice, subtle creamsicle flavor; egg white advised.

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 Whiskey Sour with a red wine float (aka a “claret snap”) has gone by various names including the Continental Sour and Southern Sour and, though it likely originated in Chicago, people in 1880s Boston called it the “New-York Sour,” and the name has stuck. It can be served over a large ice cube or up in a chilled coupe; at Gigantic, we favor the former.

Though the Sour template predates the Fix slightly, the latter–a Sour served over crushed ice–was an incredibly popular member of the family in the mid-nineteenth century. Our recipe is diluted with a measure of water, just like the earliest extant Fix and Sour recipes–a nod to their evolution as a single-serving punch.