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.

A menu for Othello Pollard’s Boston restaurant from 1803 listed Solid Arguments (foods), Agitations (acidic things), Grievances (spicy things), Superfluities (sweets) and Punishments (alcohol). Under punishments one finds “ice-punch,” a version of the already very entrenched crowd-pleasing drink served on the new craze: ice. Below is our imagined vision of what may have been in that punch.

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.

Like many of the Black culinarians we’re learning about this month, Thomas Downing was not considered a bartender, but a restaurateur who ran an oyster cellar and catering business. But we know he served drinks at his establishment and, as Cobblers were the order of the day, I opted to create one with Madeira and brandy which were en vogue in New York City during Downing’s heyday.

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.

For this month’s theme, I took a look at the food menus at Borscht Belt resorts–drink menus are generally more ephemeral or nonexistent and hard to find–and even though the words “melon delight” didn’t appear, I thought they’d fit right in. This drink’s kind of an oddball as far as its construction, but it works and is exceedingly refreshing.

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.

After over two and half years of Al’s Cocktail Club, we’re finally making a Bloody Mary! As a veteran of New York brunch services, I am no stranger to this drink and know how beloved they are. I didn’t want to overcomplicate things and I kind of like the idea that one could build this bloody à la minute at their table with a can of tomato juice and condiments. I used the old Fort Defiance bloody mix recipe as my guide.

One of my favorite scenes in Dirty Dancing is when Baby goes to the party the resort staff are having; she enters awkwardly carrying a watermelon and leaves suddenly kind of able to dance?! This simple vodka sour drinks like a Daiquiri, which is exactly what I want when I’ve worked up a sweat dancing to “Cry to Me” by Solomon Burke.

The Mai Tai didn’t originate in Hawaii, but in the archipelago’s postwar tourism boom, the drink was quickly adopted into its hotel and bar culture. The drink developed into a fruitier, less strictly-defined subgenre unto itself, with orange and pineapple popping up frequently. Our version opts for passionfruit (which I love), layered over my own Banana Mai Tai recipe.

I noticed this description under a Hawaiian Room drink called the Okoolehao Sling–“A zingy sling of gin and juice in a real coconut”–and took it as a prompt. I wanted to create a fruity coconutty flash-blended drink with a gin base and I couldn’t be happier with the results! Though it does appear in tiki drinks, I see coconut as belonging more to the non-tiki tropical canon we’re (mostly) focusing on this month.

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 drink originated at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel in Honolulu and is a prime example of the non-tiki tropical canon. I wanted to improve the recipe while also playing up the pre-WWII orgeat sours that came before it, like the Cameron’s Kick and the Army & Navy. I did so with bitters and an absinthe rinse–the latter touch is reminiscent of the Corpse Reviver No. 2 and the Rattlesnake.

This drink appears in the 1938 book New Orleans Drinks and How to Mix ‘Em. I chose it to kick off Margarita Month as an example of an early tequila sour. We had this on a classics menu at Gigantic, where Ned King and Kris Kirkland tweaked the spec to create this fantastic, slightly smoky riff on the original. It’s fun to do a tropical presentation with this drink (crushed ice, mint garnish, bitters dashed atop), as it’s akin to an agave-spirit Daiquiri.

The classic spec for a Margarita started firming up in the late 1930s, though not necessarily going by its now-famous name yet. The drink took hold of America in the 1950s on a grand scale and this classic version with orange liqueur served up reflects the drink’s aesthetic at the time. The sugar-salt rim sprang from my fascination with people who order sugar rims on their Margaritas, but trust me on this one–it works!

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.

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.