Still, the drink was never a headliner in the United States. No classic cocktail has gone through such a sustained failure to launch as the Negroni. Too bitter for the meek, too European in temperament altogether, it sat there, gaining only the smallest of followings, mainly in San Francisco.
It wasn’t until the twenty-first century that circumstances conspired to grant the Negroni its place in the sun. The drink contained three things that young bartenders were then embracing: the neglected gin, the misunderstood vermouth, and Italian bitters, in this case Campari. These mixologists put the drink on the rocks, instead of “up,” in a Martini glass, lending it more seriousness.
Countless Negroni riffs followed in short order. (A few of the more notable ones are listed in the following pages.) Today, thousands of Negronis are passed over the bar every night. There are barrel-aged Negronis and Negronis on tap. In 2016, Campari released its own bottled Negroni.
It only took a century.
Negroni
I prefer the classic 1:1:1 proportions on a Negroni. If you like a stronger drink (and many do), go for 1½ ounces of gin.
1 ounce London dry gin
1 ounce sweet vermouth
1 ounce Campari
Orange twist
Combine all the ingredients except the orange twist in a rocks glass filled with one large piece of ice. Stir until chilled, about 30 seconds. Express an orange twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
White Negroni
WAYNE COLLINS, 2001
One of the great modern twists on the Negroni model, this drink has shown a lot of staying power since Wayne Collins, a British bartender, invented it on the fly in 2001. Collins, while working in France, was charged with making Negronis but couldn’t find any Campari or sweet vermouth, so he used what he could lay his hands on (French products like Lillet and Suze, naturally). This was the result.
1 ounce Plymouth gin
1 ounce Lillet Blanc
1 ounce Suze
Grapefruit twist
Combine all the ingredients except the grapefruit twist in a mixing glass filled with ice and stir until chilled, about 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled coupe. Express a grapefruit twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
Cynar Negroni
This Negroni variation asks for the Italian, artichoke-flavored Amaro Cynar instead of Campari. It has flown under various names, with no clear favorite. When I’m drinking one of these, I like it as well as a classic Negroni.
1 ounce London dry gin
1 ounce sweet vermouth
1 ounce Cynar
Orange twist
Combine all the ingredients except the orange twist in a rocks glass filled with one large piece of ice. Stir until chilled, about 30 seconds. Express an orange twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
Boulevardier
ERSKINE GWYNNE
Created in the 1920s by a profligate, Paris-dwelling, expatriate scion of the Vanderbilt clan, the Boulevardier is named after the magazine he briefly published there. The recipe first appeared as a footnote in Harry McElhone’s Barflies and Cocktails published in 1927. It has, over the last decade, become widely served and greatly loved. As with the Negroni, many choose to increase the amount of bourbon.
1 ounce bourbon
1 ounce sweet vermouth
1 ounce Campari
Orange twist
Combine all the ingredients except the orange twist in a rocks glass filled with one large piece of ice. Stir until chilled, about 30 seconds. Express an orange twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
Old Pal
WILLIAM ROBERTSON
From the same era as the Boulevardier, the Old Pal is made with rye and dry vermouth. This is a sharper drink, as you might expect, but one with its own flinty appeal. Credit for this one goes to journalist William “Sparrow” Robertson. As for the amount of rye, you know the drill.
1 ounce rye
1 ounce dry vermouth
1 ounce Campari
Orange twist
Combine all the ingredients except the orange twist in a rocks glass filled with one large piece of ice. Stir until chilled, about 30 seconds. Express an orange twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
Old Gal
PHIL WARD, 2016
This drink was created by Phil Ward, while working at Brooklyn’s Long Island Bar, as a sort of rounder answer to the Old Pal. The blanc vermouth, put in place of the usual dry, softens the effect of the rye and Campari.
1½ ounces rye
1 ounce blanc vermouth
1 ounce Campari
Orange twist
Combine all the ingredients except the orange twist in a rocks glass filled with one large piece of ice. Stir until chilled, about 30 seconds. Express an orange twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
Remember the Alimony
DAN GREENBAUM, 2012
This is one of the best of the modern sherry cocktails out there. Dan Greenbaum created it in 2012 at the short-lived New York City cocktail bar The Beagle. It continues to be served—but maybe only because I keep ordering it and writing about it.
1¼ ounces fino sherry
1¼ ounces Cynar
¾ ounce Beefeater gin
Orange twist
Combine all the ingredients except the orange twist in a rocks glass filled with one large piece of ice. Stir until chilled, about 30 seconds. Express an orange twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
La Perla
JACQUES BEZUIDENHAUT, 2005
A lovely and unique mixture of unusual suspects, this drink is the work of South Africa–born San Francisco bartender Jacques Bezuidenhaut. Created in 2005, it was ahead of its time in its use of tequila and sherry as base spirits.
1½ ounces reposado tequila
1½ ounces manzanilla sherry
¾ ounce pear liqueur
Lemon twist
Combine all the ingredients except the lemon twist in a mixing glass filled with ice and stir until chilled, about 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled coupe. Express a lemon twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
Black Rock Chiller
SOTHER TEAGUE, 2012
This is a stand-out example in the odd modern trend of serving drinks at room temperature. Sother Teague was a pioneer in these drinks, called scaffas, and has long served this cocktail at his bar, Amor y Amargo, in New York’s East Village.
¾ ounce Branca Menta
¾ ounce reposado tequila
¾ ounce Suze
Combine all the ingredients in a rocks glass. Stir briefly, without ice, and serve at room temperature.
Sours
Sours are sour because they contain citrus, be it lemon, lime, orange, or grapefruit juice. The category is one of the oldest in mixology and includes some of the best known and best loved and most lasting cocktails in history.
TOM COLLINS
Imagine your name was Tom Collins. It would be a bit like being John Smith, wouldn’t it? A pretty dull handle. Not much to it. Not very memorable. You might meet a Tom Collins and forget him instantly. He is, after all, literally just some Tom, Dick, or Harry.
That’s sort of how people tend to think of Tom Collins, the cocktail. It’s not really a drink people contemplate. It’s out there. It exists. But nobody really requests it and thinks they’re in for anything particularly special. It’s something of an “I give up” sort of order, a choice for a young, inexperienced drinker or an unadventurous bourgeoisie.
In fact, this is exactly what I thought of the drink when, having just turned eighteen—then the legal drinking age in Wisconsin—I ordered one (with the approval of my mother) at the Elm Grove Inn. My drinking experience up to that point was next to nil. Yet I knew, somehow, in the back of my brain, that the Tom Collins would not get me into too much trouble.
This is an unjust fate for a drink that had one of the most lively beginnings in cocktail history. A laugh riot that swept American barrooms in 1874 had
that ol’ rascal Tom at its center. The hoax would begin with some innocent being asked if he had seen Tom Collins. “Tom Collins who?” the sucker would reply. Why the Tom Collins that has been talking trash about you all over town! Once the dupe was sufficiently lured in and lathered up by these reports of slander, he was furnished with the choice bit of information that said reprobate Collins was just around the corner in the next tavern. The poor sap would then slam his glass down on the bar, hastily pay his tab, and set out in hot pursuit. Thus would begin a wild goose chase, sending him from bar to bar, in search of the elusive Collins.
This, my friends, is how America amused itself in the days before memes and GIFs.
Newspapers soon got in on the joke, posting bogus notices in their pages about how Tom Collins had been seen hopping a train or exiting a hotel or getting up to this or that mischief. Journalists had a healthier sense of humor about the practical applications of their trade back then.
You’d think that a drink that started as a joke would fade away and fade away quick. But the Tom Collins endured. It helped that it had hearty roots leading all the way back to England, where it was called John Collins and came in punch form. It also helped that it tasted great.
For some reason, modern-day writers and drinkers like to diminish this drink. They term it, with barely conceived dismissiveness, nothing more than spiked fizzy lemonade, or some such damning phrase. Maybe this is because the drink is inextricably linked with summer, and people tend to think of summer drinks as simple-minded refreshments. Or maybe it is due to the lowered expectations brought on by decades of badly made Tom Collinses, laced with toxic sour mix, or the post-Prohibition proliferation of bottled Tom Collins or collins mixes. It seems as though nary a fresh lemon was manually squeezed in service of this drink for much of the Cold War.
The only excitement visited upon the Tom Collins in the last quarter century was the recent return to shelves of Old Tom gin. Old Tom is the sweeter version of the spirit that was the original base of the drink. This was a very good development. As much as we all love and respect London dry gin, believe me: Old Tom makes a vastly superior Tom Collins. For some reason, London dry, which makes a Martini stand up straight and packs punch into a Gin and Tonic, renders a Tom Collins thin and uninteresting. The mix of juice and sugar and spirit join much more seamlessly with Old Tom. Suddenly, the drink is rich and flavorful. You might even remember it.
Tom Collins
There are now a number of Old Tom gins on the market from which to choose. Hayman’s is a fine choice, but many work well. It is worth your while experimenting with the different brands to see the wide range of Tom Collinses available to you.
2 ounces Old Tom gin
1 ounce simple syrup (1:1) (this page)
¾ ounce lemon juice
Soda water
Lemon wedge and brandied cherry (optional)
Shake the gin, syrup, and juice with ice until chilled, about 15 seconds. Strain into an ice-filled highball and top with soda water, about 1 ounce. If desired, garnish with a lemon wedge and cherry flag.
Gin Fizz
The difference between a fizz and a collins is that a fizz is not served “long” and comes without ice. But, in this case, it’s a difference with a distinction. One is a quick fix, the other a drink to linger over. Both have their time and place. Add an egg white to the shaker and you have a Silver Gin Fizz; an egg yolk, and it’s a Golden Fizz.
2 ounces gin
1 ounce simple syrup (1:1) (this page)
¾ ounce lemon juice
Soda water
Combine all the ingredients except the soda water with ice in a cocktail shaker and shake vigorously until chilled and frothy, about 15 seconds. Strain into a rocks glass. Top with soda water, about 1 ounce.
Bee’s Knees
This is a Gin Sour made with honey and a drink that’s been around since the 1920s—as you might guess from its flapper-lingo name. Never more than a minor player behind the bar, the drink was rediscovered in the current century by modern mixologists, along with the use of honey as a sweetener.
2 ounces gin
¾ ounce lemon juice
½ ounce honey syrup (1:1) (this page)
Lemon twist
Combine all the ingredients except the lemon twist in a cocktail shaker filled with ice and shake until chilled, about 15 seconds. Strain into a chilled coupe. Express a lemon twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
The Business
SASHA PETRASKE
A slight variation on the Bee’s Knees, this drink is from Sasha Petraske, the man behind the legendary modern speakeasy Milk & Honey. (Say “Bee’s Knees” fast and you’ll see where the name came from.) Petraske, who died in 2015, was devoted to classic cocktails and pared-down liquid constructions. Fittingly, this drink is an exercise in simplicity and precision. Note that the honey syrup is of the extra thickness typical to Petraske bars.
2 ounces gin
1 ounce lime juice
¾ ounce rich honey syrup (3:1) (this page)
Lemon twist
Combine all the ingredients except the lemon twist in a cocktail shaker filled with ice and shake until chilled, about 15 seconds. Strain into a chilled coupe. Express a lemon twist over the drink and drop into the glass.
Cosmonaut
SASHA PETRASKE
Another succinct Sasha Petraske creation, this is his sly retort to the popularity of the Cosmopolitan, as the name coyly indicates. Indeed, the drink, piquant and slightly fruity, fills much the same purpose, tastewise, as that ubiquitous cocktail—only more so.
2 ounces gin
¾ ounce lemon juice
1 bar spoon raspberry preserves
Combine all the ingredients in a cocktail shaker filled with ice and shake until chilled, about 15 seconds. Strain into a chilled coupe.
WHISKEY SOUR
The Whiskey Sour can’t catch a break. It had its heyday back in the late 1800s when people couldn’t get enough of it. But that was the last time it was trendy. Since then, it has been one of the last kids to be picked for the team. (Every classic cocktail, however prosaic its status may be today, was the cat’s meow once upon a time.)
Even during the cocktail renaissance of the last twenty years, it has enjoyed a Rodney Dangerfield existence at best (“I don’t get no respect,” etc.). David Wondrich, the most eminent drinks historian of our time, delivered the hapless Whiskey Sour a knock-out punch in the pages of Esquire at the turn of the twenty-first century, calling it, “the fried-egg sandwich of American mixology: simple, dull, reliable in a pinch. It’s nourishing, all right, but not a drink for cocktail time, that hour of luminous blue when the more decorative and flush sectors of civilization exchange witticisms over icy glasses of invigorating drink. Uh-uh. Then, you want gin, vermouth, or some combination of the two. Or, of course, a Manhattan. Something dressy. This? The cocktail in its undershirt.”
Ouch.
I hereby take umbrage, and not just because I consider the egg sandwich one of New York’s great culinary triumphs. Why such disdain for a drink that lives in the same neighborhood as the vaunted Daiquiri and wildly popular Margarita? Those two drinks are considered seamless liquid poetry, while the Whiskey Sour, for some reason, is thought of as a glass of whiskey at which some clod has thoughtlessly thrown some lemon and sugar.
Without a doubt, the Whiskey Sour suffered more than most drinks during the cocktail’s dark ages, made from coast to coast with rancid and off-putting sour mix, instead of fresh juice. But prepared properly (watch your proportions), with vigor (shake that thing!), love (use good whiskey and fresh citrus), and alacrity (pour and serve immediately), the Whiskey Sour is a lively and ridiculously delicious drink that can’t help but bend your lips into a smile.
As to recipes, you can argue until the bartender turns the stools upside down just how strong, sweet, or tart you think a good Whiskey Sour should be. My ideal follows. If you don’t have simple syrup, a heaping bar spoon of sugar will d
o. Shake it hard so that you end up with little splinters of ice on the surface of the drink.
A lot of otherwise sensible bartenders like to garnish this drink with a cherry-orange slice “flag.” To me, that’s like taking a dog with a perfectly handsome natural coat and dressing it in a Christmas sweater. Let’s leave the drink its dignity, shall we?
Whiskey Sour
This drink doesn’t need a top-shelf bourbon, but it does benefit from an above-average and decently aged (more than six years) bourbon. I like Evan Williams Single Barrel or Henry McKenna bonded 10-year-old, both of which have punch and flavor to burn.
3-Ingredient Cocktails Page 4