As you know, my historically-driven palate favors the spirits that were popular in 19th-century juleps, i.e. rye, Cognac, and rum. For my own julep recipe, I wanted to combine these three in equal parts with a favorite amaro (Braulio or dell’erborista are particularly good here, but there are many that would work!). I also decided to make the garnish do a little aromatic work, hence the nutmeg and shaved coffee bean, which hit the nose along with the mint upon first sip. The sherry float also contributes a nice aroma if desired!

This is probably the drink that first comes to mind when you think of juleps (unless your brain is stuck in the 19th century like me)! The bourbon-based julep is the one that has survived into the modern age, thanks in no small part to its connection with the Kentucky Derby. For this recipe, I wanted it to be exceedingly elemental. Since we’ve combined the sugar and mint in our mint syrup already, this julep requires but two ingredients (plus a big bouquet of mint, of course). It is simplicity at its finest!

This recipe, based on one from the 1850s, gives a window into what pre-Civil War juleps looked like after ice had established itself as an essential part of the drink. The mixture of Cognac and rye and the slight presence of Jamaican rum illustrate the julep’s former life as a rum drink and the preference for a brandy base during this period while also foreshadowing the rise of rye juleps that would come after the Civil War (see Dabney Julep from our Pre-Civil War Black Tavern-keepers theme). NB: crushed ice is preferred over pebble here.

What’s a julep before it becomes an iced drink? Why, a Mint Sling, of course! During the eighteenth century the eastern seaboard was awash with minty, rum-based slings that also traveled under the name julep. Because we are used to chilled beverages (especially with juleps on the mind), I decided to give this tavern drink the batch-n-freeze treatment; the result is a very pleasing pour that tastes like an aged rum mojito sans ice and soda.

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.

Sometimes called Black Stripe, this drink is a toddy-like mixture of rum, molasses, and hot or cold water that comes from the same seafaring roots at Calibogus (and, indeed, early versions at sea contained spruce ale). Blackstrap was one of the most popular tavern drinks of the late eighteenth through mid-nineteenth centuries in rural New England. Our version uses nineteenth-century techniques to revive this forgotten Rum Old-Fashioned ancestor.

This drink is another that was emblematic of American culture in the days of the early Republic but has since been forgotten. Popular in winter, as they were traditionally served hot, Apple Toddy recipes, including the one in Jerry Thomas’s 1862 book, typically call for mixing apple brandy with hot water and baked apple, and topped with nutmeg. Our version is a little more complex, with notes of cranberry, vanilla, spices, and ginger.

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.

Say what you will about The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, but the episodes that take place in the Catskills are a feast for the eyes and a window into what these Borscht Belt resorts looked like. Though, as you know, I like my martinis with gin and a ratio of 2:1, I wanted to create a dry martini with a strong herbal quality… and a vodka base. The dill infusion works really well here.

This is one of those great drinks that sprang from the unique mix of ingredients on this month’s supply list. The resulting cocktail is a delightful 2:1 mezcal-and-gin martini with blanc vermouth, saline, optional spicy note, and a touch of honey. Keep a bottle of these in the freezer for when an afternoon outdoor hang turned into an all-evening affair and you suddenly have several thirsty friends at your house.

I developed this stirred cocktail recipe for a class I taught online back in March of 2022. Its flavor profile–smoky, honeyed, and bitter–was inspired by those first grilling sessions of spring. It’s strong enough to stand up to a cool evening but fits in well on a warm day, too.

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.

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.

The Widow’s Kiss was first published in 1895’s Modern American Drinks by George Kappeler. The original recipe calls for apple brandy with equal measures of Bénédictine and yellow Chartreuse, plus Angostura bitters. Our take is dry and spirit-forward and switches out the Chartreuse in favor of Alpine amaro, which nods to the Alpine origins of Chartreuse and also does the work of the bitters. It’s got a Rusty Nail vibe that I really love.

A stirred drink from The Hoffman House Bartender’s Guide (1905), the Automobile Cocktail consists of equal parts Scotch, Old Tom gin, and Italian vermouth, plus a little gum syrup and orange bitters. I took this template and subbed in apple brandy for the Scotch, using alpine amaro in place of bitters, and sweetening with fig syrup. It’s Martinez-esque, but feels perfect for November with apple and pronounced piney notes. “Motor wagon” was a term used by some early car makers.

This drink is essentially a Vieux Carré with coffee liqueur subbed in for the Bénédictine, but with a touch of absinthe–influenced by both the Sazerac and Cocktail à la Louisiane. The cocktail bears a resemblance to my After-Dinner Manhattan from a few years back, which I designed for a customer who was craving coffee in her nightcap.

The Sazerac is an institution and I love the rye-based versions dearly. But I also like split-base recipes that recognize the Cognac roots of the cocktail (and Cognac-only versions too!). This version of the Sazerac plays up the cocktail’s “Improved” qualities, splitting the aromatic ingredients between four different products, as well as splitting the base.