This is a riff on the Harvard cocktail, which is basically a Manhattan with brandy in place of rye. But I didn't like the ratios with the port, so I turned it into a kind of Improved Cocktail (my favorite variation on the Old-Fashioned), with a base of Cognac plus small measures of cacao, ruby port, and Alpine amaro. A splash of Champagne makes it feel quite fancy and dries out the cocktail a bit.

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!

The head of the Negroni family isn’t, it might surprise you, the Negroni. The now-iconic drink is actually more like the third generation of the Campari-laced clan. The Milano-Torino was the first to mix Campari and sweet vermouth (a nod to these products’ respective origins), way back in the 1860s.

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.

The Americano mightn’t be just a lengthened Mi-To as previously assumed, but rather a genre of drink that combined vermouth with various liqueurs, especially aperitivo and amaro. Fernet-Branca was a popular option, but Campari won out by the ‘30s.

Sbagliato means “mistaken” or “bungled” in Italian. That’s a reference to the apocryphal tale told about why the Negroni Sbagliato features prosecco—and no gin. The resulting beverage is a delightful cross between the Americano and the Spritz.

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).

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.

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.

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.

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 recipe illustrates a few aspects of twenty-first-century cocktail culture that have had an effect on this month’s iconic cocktail, namely the rise of Mezcal as a base, the spicy Margarita craze, and the introduction of other fruit as supporting characters in Margarita variations. The use of a shrub also reflects popular methodologies of today’s cocktail culture.

Invented by Julio Bermejo at Tommy’s Mexican restaurant in San Francisco in 1990, this austere but extremely delicious (and my favorite!) variation on the classic gave the drink the Daiquiri treatment by using a sweetener produced from the same plant as the base spirit–agave. Though stunning with blanco tequila, I love this version even more with reposado. Rocks and salt are advised.

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 Jack Rose wasn’t invented in Paris, but it made a name for itself in the French capital’s expat scene. Though several versions exist, at times including orange juice, liqueurs, or vermouth, the version from Hugo Ensslin’s 1917 Recipes for Mixed Drinks is elemental and delicious. Our version calls on two French brandies–the Calvados as a nod to the American apple brandy of the original, and Cognac–along with a little absinthe for dimension.

Spirit-forward drinks were stars of the Cocktail Renaissance–and they haven’t strayed much from the formula that was set over 200 years ago. This recipe reflects the resurgence of “old-world” spirits like Cognac and genever as well as the return of rye as a base for cocktails. The bitters in this Old-Fashioned come in the form of amaro, a darling of contemporary American cocktail culture. This drink harkens back to my Al-Pino Old-Fashioned recipe, which I developed in 2018 (original) and 2021 (2.0) respectively.

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.