Bitters

This Mint Julep is the quintessential American cocktail, so regal that it sits at the summit of cocktail Olympus next to classics like the Martini, the Manhattan, and the Sazerac. It hails from Kentucky and Virginia and is enjoyed throughout the South. We know for sure it was consumed as early as 1790, particularly in the summertime. A particular type of spearmint, Kentucky Colonel, is best suited for the preparation of this cocktail, commonly served in a silver or pewter cup to keep it chilled longer. Since 1938, it has been the official drink of the Kentucky Derby, where up to 120,000 mint juleps are served over the period of two days. There are many historical and regional versions: some use bourbon, others brandy; some only tap the mint, others pulverize it into a paste. We favor a bourbon recipe in which fresh spearmint is bruised with a ladle, then sugar, bitters, and bourbon are added; the mixture is chilled overnight so the mint releases all the flavors and essential oils into the whiskey, then strained the following day for final julep preparation. To simplify this process so the julep can be made to order, we use our own homemade Mint Syrup.

The return of the Aviation cocktail signaled the rebirth of the classic cocktail. Using ingredients that were obscure a mere ten years ago, this drink is simple and snappy and speaks of the era surrounding Prohibition. The original Aviation cocktail was created in the early years of the twentieth century by one of us—a New York bartender, Hugo Ensslin, who was the head bartender at the Wallick Hotel. Probably his intention was to celebrate the Wright Brothers and other achievements in flight made at that time. Ensslin also published the recipe in his book, Recipes for Mixed Drinks, which appeared in 1916 and in which he called for dry gin, lemon juice, maraschino, and crème de violette. We must assume that the crème de violette Ensslin had at his disposal is different than the ones we have today, as the drink does not turn sky-blue. Harry Craddock left out the crème de violette in The Savoy Cocktail Book and so did many others. Only recently have we begun to see the emergence of really high-quality crème de violette on the market—but it still remains to be seen if it will catch on beyond cocktail geekery. We add a touch of aromatic bitters at the end to dazzle your nose and create depth.

The original Champagne cocktail recipe illustrates the simplest incarnation of the cocktail in general: spirits or wines mixed with sugar, bitters, and water. Over the years, some recipes for the Champagne Cocktail called for the addition of brandy or cognac for a stronger kick and bigger body. But no matter what goes into it, the drink has always been the choice of prominent and well-heeled U.S. citizens because champagne commands a lofty price and is a status symbol in America. We at Employees Only choose to make this cocktail with Curaçao, specifically Grand Marnier. We find that it adds more flavor notes and blends more effortlessly than does cognac. It’s a misconception that one must use the finest Champagne in this cocktail. Please do not destroy a masterful tête de cuvee with bitters and sugar. Use a well-rounded nonvintage brut, which has the bones for such a cocktail.

This cocktail is an Employees Only variation on the Champagne Cocktail (page 56). In champagne production, when the pinot noir skins are left to touch the juice, they add color and a soft touch of tannins. The result is some of the best aperitif wine available: rosé champagne. Other sparkling wine producers emulate this with rosé varietals, most notably the Spanish with Cava. These wines are truly magnificent, and their affordability makes them very suitable for mixed drinks. Cava rosé has a body and level of dryness ideal for adding sugar, bitters, and Campari to create a sultry variation on the classic Champagne Cocktail. This cocktail is very sexy and inviting and makes a superb aperitif, as well as a great choice for pairing with antipasti, mezes, tapas, or seafood appetizers.

The original recipe for the Vesper was created not by a bartender but by popular spy novelist Ian Fleming. In Fleming’s 1953 book Casino Royale, Agent 007 instructs the bartender to prepare him a Martini with “Three measures of Gordon’s, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it very well until it’s ice cold, then add a large, thin slice of lemon.” Bond named this drink after Vesper Lynd, his first love interest in the series. Kina Lillet vermouth, with its flavor notes of quinine, no longer exists, so we replaced it with Lillet Blanc and a dash of Angostura bitters. We opted for a blend of Charbay clear vodka and Plymouth Navy Strength gin to finish off our interpretation. This is the cocktail that introduced the phrase “shaken, not stirred,” which changed Martini drinking forever. Thank you, Mr. Bond.

The Sazerac was invented by pharmacist Antoine Amedee Peychaud in New Orleans sometime in the early 1800s. In his French Quarter drugstore, M. Peychaud served his concoction of Sazerac cognac, absinthe, sugar, and his homemade bitters in the large end of an egg cup—what the French call a coquetier. (There had been speculation that the word cocktail comes from the mispronunciation of coquetier, but this myth has been disproven.) Later, rye whiskey replaced Sazerac cognac because it was more readily available, but the name stayed. The traditional making of a Sazerac is a ritual still practiced in New Orleans. It begins with the bartender pouring Herbsaint into a rocks glass, then tossing the glass in the air while yelling “Sazerac!” Coating the inside of a glass with liquor is referred to as “seasoning” the glass. The glass is then chilled as the cocktail is made. At Employees Only, we make Sazeracs by seasoning the glass with our Absinthe Bitters, and we use Angostura bitters in addition to Peychaud’s.

Pêche bourbon is simply the French way of saying “peach bourbon.” These two items are as compatible a pairing as strawberries and vanilla. We wanted to showcase our peach-infused bourbon without overshadowing any of its subtle beauty. We blended it in the most straightforward way, with sugar and Peychaud’s bitters, then followed the ritual used to make the classic Sazerac cocktail (opposite): we first “season” the serving glass with French peach cordial. The ingredients swirl together in a slow dance, exciting the palate, then leaving it longing for more. This is a very delicate yet powerful cocktail. It is a great aperitif; it pairs well with grilled meats and seafood; and it is sublime as an after-dinner drink with a fruit tart or cake.

Whether or not this drink is truly an ancestor of today’s Dry Gin Martini (with which it has little in common), it is a great model in the cocktail fossil record because it showcases how certain ingredients were used before the twentieth century: back in the day, maraschino liqueur and orange Curaçao were two cordials used interchangeably (depending on availability) as sweeteners in cocktails. Vermouth was always sweet Italian red vermouth; French or dry vermouth were not popular in cocktail making until the end of the nineteenth century. Legend says this drink was named for the small Northern California town where a Gold Rush miner ordered “one for the road” before heading for the hills.

In the mythology of classic mixology, the Martinez is purported to be the predecessor to the Dry Gin Martini. When we researched the original version of this cocktail, though, we saw very little resemblance to what people today refer to as a Martini. In an act of artistic interpretation, we devised a recipe to be the “missing link” to articulate the evolution of these two iconic cocktails. In doing so, we created a more dry—and more exciting—flavor profile than that of the original Martinez. Our missing link provides an experience with a beginning, middle, and finish that lingers, leaving you craving more. This is best achieved with the combination of Beefeater 24 gin, accents of maraschino liqueur, and the super velvetiness of Dolin Blanc vermouth. Finally, our own homemade Absinthe Bitters round it out and add incredible depth. This drink has been offered on our aperitif menu since we opened Employees Only. It goes great with raw oysters or raw bar of any kind and works well with summery salads and seared scallops.

Most people today understand a Manhattan to be bourbon whiskey with a dash of vermouth, shaken or stirred—little more than a nice way to order a big shot of whiskey. Only recently have people once again acknowledged the necessity of bitters in the recipe. What happened? Prohibition all but annihilated rye whiskey production in this country; by the end of World War II, America had embraced Canadian whiskies as rye, even though most are made of a blend of grains. When we first began bartending, it was common for Manhattans to be made with Seagram’s VO or Crown Royal. But in the early 1990s, bartenders making Manhattans gravitated toward newly released single-barrel and small-batch bourbons to meet the expectations of the luxury crowd. As with Martinis, these customers demanded only a whisper of vermouth so as not to destroy the precious whiskey. Our recipe is an excellent expression of a Manhattan made with soft-natured bourbon. Rye whiskey makes a sharp, racy alternative. As for cherries, keep clear of the big artificial ones floating in eerie red dye. Pit fresh cherries and soak them for a few days in amaretto or cherry liqueur instead.

The Manhattan cocktail we serve is not to be confused with the contemporary Manhattan. This recipe first appeared in the latter part of the nineteenth century and is referenced in later editions of How to Mix Drinks or the Bon Vivant’s Companion as well as Harry Johnson’s 1882 Bartenders’ Manual. This forgotten formula has a higher ratio of sweet vermouth to rye whiskey, with an accent of orange Curaçao and Boker’s bitters, served straight up with a lemon twist. Cherries in Manhattans came later as the mixture evolved into a different cocktail. The subtle mingling of flavors in this version illustrates an older style of drink making. Of course, as with any epic cocktail, there are several conflicting stories about its origins. Our favorite version has Winston Churchill’s mother, Jennie, ordering its creation for the celebration of Samuel Tilden’s election as governor of New York at the Manhattan Club. As exciting as this may sound, it seems that little Winston had more to do with disproving the theory. At the time of the election, Lady Churchill was in England giving birth to Winston, and the only noted celebration for Tilden actually coincided with the day of Winston Churchill’s christening.

Now the official cocktail of New Orleans, this spicy, heady concoction was the creation of a Creole apothecary named Peychaud whose medicinal tinctures became after-hours cocktails with the addition of whiskey and sugar.

Two types of bitters give this drink its characteristic flavor.

My friend Christopher Day is skilled in the art of mixing a proper drink, so I asked him one inebriated evening if he wouldn’t mind making me a cocktail using Sriracha. In what seemed like mere seconds, a beautiful crimson creation appeared in my hand; it was not only delicious, but also packed quite a punch. We chose the seemingly innocuous name La Caridad in homage to a very dear mutual friend who—like the drink—reels you in with a snazzy, sophisticated appearance and blends it with a touch of intriguing spice that keeps bringing you back for more.

The classic Campari-based cocktail, the Negroni, is equal parts Campari, gin, and sweet vermouth. Starting with the classic formula but then deviating from it, I replace the piney flavor of gin with the naturally acidic apple and pear, boosted by the warmth of Calvados apple brandy. The orange bitters give the drink a dry finish so it’s not overly sweet.

This variation on a Manhattan was created by longtime Lantern bar goddess Kristen Johnson and christened by Lantern lexicographer Phil Morrison. When naming his first novel, Thomas Wolfe is said to have been inspired by an engraving of a John Milton poem on a stone statue of an angel in a cemetery in Hendersonville, North Carolina, not too far from Levering Orchard: Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth: And, O ye Dolphins, waft the hapless youth.

Go festive with this floral, slightly fizzy punch, replete with decorative ice mold.

Your neighbor saw your 5,000-watt crèche with the Light-Up Holy Family and raised you Three Luminous-Halo'd Wise Men. You countered by adding the Animated Waving Santa and Nodding Reindeer to your roof; he got the Ho! Ho! Hover-Over-the-House Motion-Sensored Santa Sleigh Track. Before contemplating your next move, relax with a sparkling, ginger-infused refresher and review the inconvenient truth of your kilowatt hours.