This classic cocktail entered the cocktail renaissance canon via Ted Saucier’s 1951 book Bottoms Up, where the recipe is credited to the Detroit Athletic Club and an Irish-born vaudeville star called Frank Fogarty. It likely came into being around 1915. The drink’s equal-parts construction balances out the strong flavors of  juniper-heavy London dry gin, herbaceous green Chartreuse, and rich maraschino.

This drink is both a relic of its original period (the years just before Prohibition) as well as of the cocktail revival of the aughts. It became an emblem of a certain kind of “golden-age” cocktail and people are still intrigued by its name and esoteric ingredients. It’s a little bit too floral for my palate these days, but it’s a great drink to have up your sleeve for friends who enjoy flowery gin drinks.

With a name like this, it’s no wonder this cocktail has survived into the modern age; originally “corpse reviver” was a catch-all term for a hangover cure, but none has been more famous than this version. The other reason it’s survived is that it appears in the Savoy Cocktail Book (1930), one of the most popular cocktail guides of the twentieth century. Its equal-parts structure, bright ingredients, and absinthe rinse make this a perennially delightful sour.

Certainly the least well-known of our drinks this month, but it’s my favorite! This one was first published in the Café Royal Cocktail Book (1937) in London. The name comes from a luxury train line that ran from New York to Chicago. My little tweak to this one is that I suggest nutmeg as a garnish (at least in fall and winter); chocolate and nutmeg are so great together, especially with the juniper and the spiced notes from the aromatized wine.

With roots in the nineteenth century, the Spritz was originally a combination of wine and carbonated water. By the 1920s and ‘30s, the classic Italian refresher solidified as a combination of bitter aperitivo liqueur, wine (or vermouth, see: Americano & Negroni Sbagliato), and soda. In the 1990s, prosecco became an essential ingredient in the Spritz.

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.

There was a period of time in the life of the Spritz, where the bubbly and wine elements were still kept separate, i.e. still wine and soda were used in concert to create a similar effect. Both of the lesser-known spritzes we’re highlighting this week are built this way. The Bicicletta combines white wine, Campari, and soda, and dates from around the 1930s.

The Giostra d’Alcol (“carousel of alcohol”) is from the same period, invented by futurist Enrico Prampolini. It combines red wine, Campari, and cedrata (a citron soda); its original recipe calls for a garnish of cheese and chocolate on a cocktail pick.

The undisputed icon of aperitivo

The low-ABV aperitivo from Padua, famous in the Spritz

The classic Venetian aperitivo

The wine-based aperitivo from the excellent Alpine producer

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.

Longtime Club members might remember this one from the beta test month I ran back in August of 2020, wherein this drink was called The Tall Man from Havana. It has since become a Gigantic classic, where it began traveling under the name Havana Moon (named for the Chuck Berry song). The inspiration was the “Sloppy Joe’s,” the bar’s eponymous drink that combined brandy, port, pineapple, grenadine, and Curaçao. A very good example of the pre-tiki tropical genre.

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.

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.