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.

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.

Though this title makes reference to the ‘tini craze of the mid-1980s through ‘90s, it’s actually based on the drink that’s arguably the progenitor of the whole ‘tini family: the Lemon Drop. The cocktail was invented at Henry Africa’s, San Francisco’s iconic fern bar. With its mix of vodka, lemon juice, sugar and, often, orange liqueur, and its presentation in a sugar-rimmed glass, the Lemon Drop is a descendant of the Sidecar. Here, we skip the sugar rim and swap in peach liqueur.

This frozen Daiquiri riff brings us into the later twentieth century, when most people began to experience the Daiquiri in blended form and, often, with more in the way of artificial flavorings. Chain restaurants latched onto the Strawberry Daiquiri, as did tourist destinations in hot climates, like New Orleans or Key West. That said, the combination of rum, lime, sugar, and strawberries is exceedingly pleasing, especially when the strawberries have been roasted to concentrate their sweetness.

This version of the Daiquiri is based on a 1920s recipe (the “Daiquiri No. 3”) from the Floridita Bar in Havana. Beginning the following decade, the Floridita started serving these frappé with the use of electric blenders, which were a new invention at the time. In this recipe, I’m referencing an older frappé style, serving the drink over crushed or pebble ice. It goes without saying, but Ernest Hemingway was endlessly fond of this drink.

As we saw with our Proto-Daiquiri recipe, the trifecta of rum, lime, and sugar is a classic Caribbean combinatioN that long predates the Daiquiri. This version reflects new styles of rum that emerged in the late nineteenth century. To this classic-as-they-come spec, I’ve made a couple of subtle tweaks: the oils from a piece of lime peel add texture, while a pinch of salt provides a counterpoint to the sweet-tart profile of the drink.

Ned King helped me immensely in planning this month, including bringing this post-WWII Zombie to my attention. Though different from the 1930s Zombie, this version reads as a direct descendent of Planter’s Punch. I’ve made a couple of changes to Ned’s spec based on what we have on hand this month.

This is a Don the Beachcomber original from 1937. Ned King has spent a lot of time perfecting this recipe, which is fresh and bright. We’ve taken a couple of small liberties to minimize our supply list, but the spirit of Ned’s spec for this early tiki classic shines through.