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.

One of many ale-based proto-cocktails popular in eighteenth-century American taverns, I like to think of the Calibogus as the piney cousin of the Rattle-skull. The original Calibogus would have been a simple mixture of rum and spruce ale (a popular antiscorbutic for sailors), possibly flavored with lime juice and a sweetener like molasses. I decided to adapt this recipe by using ubiquitous, hoppy IPA for the ale component and an apple brandy base because it marries nicely with the ale and citrus.

Shrubs were a popular method of preserving fruit in New England during the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Though almost all apple cider in those days was fermented, I saw an opportunity here to build a non-alcoholic drink reflecting this month’s historical milieu with sweet, non-alcoholic cider, cranberry shrub, and our ginger-molasses syrup, with lemon juice to bolster the acid and salt and cayenne to liven things up.

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.

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.

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.