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Robert Krueger, our bar manager, discovered the New Yorker in a vintage copy of Booth’s cocktail book from the late 1930s. It is an offshoot of the New York Sour, with the addition of club soda. Think of it as a rye Collins with a float of red wine. The New Yorker is tall and fizzy, great for a hot day, and certainly stunning to look at. This cocktail is also a great culinary example of how substituting or adding one ingredient can drastically change the style and feel of a cocktail. The club soda changes the character from a simple sour into a long drink, which changes the perception of consumption by reducing the acidity and intensity in each sip. Whereas a Whiskey Sour is more a late-evening and cold-weather drink, the New Yorker tends to be more of a lazy-afternoon and summertime treat.

They say that the Hemingway Daiquiri was invented for Ernest Hemingway in the La Floradita bar in Cuba. Whether the stories are true or false, no person in history can match Ernest Hemingway as an Olympian cocktail connoisseur.

The Whiskey Sour is the pinnacle of the sour cocktail family and unarguably its most famous member. In Harry Johnson’s Bartenders’ Manual, the preferred method is to stir together sugar, water, and lemon juice before shaking with whiskey. During the dark ages of the cocktail in the 1970s and ’80s, it was turned into a two-ingredient drink in which cheap blended whiskey was poured over ice with sweet-and-sour mix from a soda gun. However, the real Whiskey Sour has been resurrected and can be made in its pure form almost anywhere that has a decent cocktail menu, even by aspiring actors working as bartenders. It is a very straightforward cocktail with a strong base of whiskey mixed with simple syrup and sour, freshly squeezed lemon juice. To bring together the body, add a splash of orange juice—just realize that with more than a splash, this drink becomes a Stone Sour. It is a fairly easy drink that can help you master the balance between sweet and sour to spirit. Make sure you shake it enough so that a thin foam rests on the surface—that is the hallmark for Whiskey Sour fans.

We will not simply turn a blind eye to the contemporary version of the Old Fashioned—it was the first cocktail we were taught that used bitters. Somewhere between the 1890s and 1930s, what probably started out as an ornamental garnish of orange and cherry fell into the mixing glass and got muddled with sugar and bitters. We see evidence of this drink in Burke’s Complete Cocktail and Drinking Recipes from 1936, in which the fruit is muddled, whereas during the same period Old Mr. Boston Bartender’s Guide continued to add the fruit after making the drink. More than likely it was a trick used during Prohibition to mask poor-quality booze that stuck with many and was passed down over the generations. Today, many look down on this version of the cocktail, mostly because of the use of commercial, artificial maraschino cherries. Many young cocktail enthusiasts may not have enjoyed this cocktail in its original form, so we offer this restoration for them.

We discovered the New York Sour in the summer of 2003 while we were researching cocktails to put on the opening drink list for Keith McNally’s Schiller’s Liquor Bar on the Lower East Side. Visually inviting, this sour is deep yellow with a crimson band of red wine floating on top. The origin of the cocktail is shrouded in mystery, but it is certain that it was served at several New York City speakeasies in the late 1920s. It was no surprise to discover that this cocktail was New York’s Prohibition-era favorite, probably because the lemon juice, sugar, and wine camouflaged and successfully balanced the bad watered-down whiskey common in those days. It was the cool drink to have, and people who ordered it were “in the know.” Think of it as the Prohibition-era Cosmo—or any other status-symbol cocktail that clearly advertises itself in appearance. Made with better ingredients, the cocktail became a masterpiece of complex flavors and mouthfeel. A chef friend of ours once remarked that this drink is like sangria à la minute—and one of the few cocktails that can be successfully paired with a main course.

This Grand Fashioned was the first-place winner of Grand Marnier and the New York Film Festival’s Independent Cocktail Festival in 1999, long before we ever opened Employees Only. The idea was to get two ounces of Grand Marnier into a cocktail without being cloyingly sweet. To balance this much Curaçao, we muddle fresh blood oranges with lime juice, sugar, and dashes of Angostura bitters. This cocktail looked so much like the contemporary recipe for an Old Fashioned that the name just took over. For the competition, we garnished the drink with a kumquat that had to be tediously scored and peeled to resemble a “blossom,” then stained inside with grenadine. You can imagine our surprise when, upon winning, we were told we would need to make five hundred of these cocktails at the premiere for All About My Mother by director Pedro Almodóvar. The Grand Fashioned is so rich and luscious that it can be consumed as an after-dinner drink.

Stunning to look at, the Greenwich Sour is rich and frothy, with a band of red wine floating on top. It is a variation of a Prohibition classic, the New York Sour. The key difference between the two is that we have add an egg white in our take, a practice common throughout the history of making sours. Many people today are wary about consuming raw eggs for fear of salmonella. The risk of contamination is actually quite low and ca be reduced even more by using eggs from free-range chickens; add high-proof spirit to that, and the chances of getting sick are reduced to almost nothing. The egg white adds texture to the cocktail by trapping air and requires a very long hard shake to create the necessary consistency. Many bartenders will shake the egg white on its own first to begin this process. To give the Greenwich Sour its necessary backbone, it is important to use high-proof whiskey to cut through the sour body. The wine’s tannins add depth to the cocktail and complete its finish.

The name “Old Fashioned” here refers to what was once known as the Whiskey Cocktail. It is a cocktail in the simplest terms: spirit, water, bitters, and sugar. Sometime in the late 1800s, the use of the word “cocktail” broadened far beyond its original definition, so it was necessary to come up with a new moniker to distinguish the older cousin. Many self-described purists will argue that there is only one way to make this drink properly. We disagree. So if you decide to order a whiskey cocktail as an Old Fashioned, be precise about what you want. Intentionally being ambiguous about your order is just a nice way of being obnoxious.

According to David Wondrich, the Whiskey Smash comes from the Baroque Age (see opposite page) of the cocktail. Obviously, it served as inspiration for our seasonal Ginger Smash cocktails, but it is in all its features a julep—the only difference being that the Smash has some ornamental fruits for garnish and is always shaken so that the mint is “smashed”—hence the name. From all the smashes in the Baroque Age, it appears that the Brandy Smash was the most popular (same drink, different base spirit—try it out for yourself), but somehow the whiskey version stuck with us. Maybe sampling Dale DeGroff’s rocking peach whiskey smash sealed the deal for us, or maybe it was just that we loved the term “smashed.” In any case, this is a very simple drink to make, and we suggest that you use our homemade Mint Syrup in place of simple syrup for a far more dimensional cocktail experience. This cocktail is one of the very few that contains no juice but nevertheless should be shaken and smashed.

The Mojito was born at the La Bodeguita del Medio in Havana, Cuba, in the 1940s. Legend has it that Ernest Hemingway wrote “My Mojito in La Bodeguita,” which still can be read today, hanging on the wall. Others claim that this was a forgery, a marketing ploy of the restaurant owners to promote their mojito cocktail and bring in tourists after communism took over. Over the last decade, the Mojito has quietly become one of the most recognized drinks in the world. Today, people carelessly consume it regardless of the season or weather. But somewhere along the way, the mojito has been reconfigured as a short, stout, bittersweet rum hybrid of muddled lime wedges and pulverized mint. Then a friend of ours who went to film school in Cuba came back and pointed out that mojitos were supposed to be tall, light, and fizzy, clean and effervescent. We brought it back to its true form and labeled it the Havana-Style Mojito. Although it never made it onto our menu, it is the closest you can get to a true mojito without the luxury of Havana Club Cuban rum. It is a fantastic cocktail—but please don’t order it while there is snow on the ground.

The Grapefruit Gimlet (see photo) came as an inspiration upon tasting Charbay ruby red grapefruit vodka. Unlike other flavored vodkas, this producer actually uses real fruit in a natural process of infusion. Charbay pays Texas ruby red grapefruit growers premium prices to leave the fruit on the tree until they are overripe. Then they are shipped to California, where father-and-son distillers Miles and Marko Karakasevic grind the whole fruits—skins, pulp, and juice—then let them sit in alcohol for six months to extract the real fruit flavor. This essence is then strained and added to clear vodka. The result of this infusion is unlike any other flavored vodka. The beauty of our Grapefruit Gimlet is that it consists of only three ingredients: Charbay grapefruit vodka, fresh lime juice, and agave nectar. This recipe is very simple to make and really accentuates the grapefruit vodka. Make it and taste it and you’ll feel like you’ve just bitten into a sweet, ripe ruby red grapefruit through the skin. It’s refreshing and full flavored, and it begs for another sip.

The story of the Roselle highlights the creative process at Employees Only. After seeking a hibiscus cordial, bar manager Robert Krueger infused the dried blossoms into syrup for a delicious result. The citrus and floral elements immediately suggested a pairing with gin, and the botanicals in Tanqueray No. 10 specifically led to grapefruit. A quick shake revealed that the red of the hibiscus turns an iridescent rose when mixed—inspiring the drink’s name. The resulting drink is a reminder that a confident bartender should never be afraid of mixing a pink drink—or of drinking one, for that matter.

The name “French 75” refers to the most deadly and accurate artillery piece of World War I: the 75-mm field gun. Some credit WWI French-American flying ace Raoul Lufbery as the creator, who poured a little cognac into his beloved champagne for added kick. Other recipes list gin as the main ingredient in what is basically a Tom Collins with champagne instead of club soda. This recipe is first seen in The Savoy Cocktail Book; author Harry Craddock notes that it “hits with remarkable precision.” Across the pond, the French 75 was made popular at New York’s infamous Stork Club, which opened during Prohibition and survived into the 1960s. Looking back at the historical cocktail record, it seems most likely that this cocktail began as the gin version, then makers shifted to cognac in order to make the drink a bit more French.

The Millionaire Cocktail is not as romanticized as the South Side or as revered as a Whiskey Sour. Little is known about this Prohibition-era cocktail except that it was a popular name for cocktails of that time. We have found five different cocktails carrying the moniker, with recipes varying from whiskey to rum to gin. Even Harry Craddock, author of The Savoy Cocktail Book, listed two completely unrelated recipes as Millionaire Cocktail No. 1 and Millionaire Cocktail No. 2. The first consists of Jamaican rum, apricot brandy, sloe gin, lime juice, and grenadine; the second has anisette, egg white, gin, and absinthe. We have provided the Millionaire recipe from The How and When cocktail book by Hyman Gale and Gerald F. Marco, first printed in 1938. Although it inspired the name for our Billionaire Cocktail (page 64), we have made some slight adjustments to the proportions and added lemon juice for balance.

By the time Sex in the City featured Carrie and the Cosmo, we were already killing this contemporary cocktail during our tenure at Pravda in the late 1990s. Our recipe stood out in the world of popular downtown nightlife destinations as the hallmark of what a Cosmopolitan should be; light pink and citrusy, with ice shards and foam surrounding a flamed orange peel. Although it speaks to trendy fashionistas, when made properly the Cosmopolitan can be a tasty libation. Clubs and marketing agencies later bastardized this drink with Rose’s lime juice, cheap triple sec, and enough cranberry juice to cure a bladder infection.

This cocktail was created in a flash of inspiration to showcase overproof whiskey by offsetting it with wonderfully lush and flavorful ingredients. Strong Baker’s 107-proof bourbon serves as the backbone to the cocktail, providing vigor and heat. This is balanced with our rich homemade grenadine and fresh lemon juice to give a delightful sweet-and-sour balance. The Absinthe Bitters’ anise essence rounds out the cocktail, giving it a classic feel and third dimension. After conceiving the recipe, we were stumped for a name until we realized it was quite similar to a version of the Prohibition classic Millionaire Cocktail (page 66). Because of inflation and the fact that ours is a “richer” cocktail, we named it the Billionaire Cocktail.

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.

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 Americano is the quintessential Italian aperitivo. When it was first created at Gaspare Campari’s bar in Milan in the 1860s, it was named Milano-Torino for its two main ingredients: Campari from Milan and Cinzano from Turin. The drink quickly became popular as an afternoon quencher at outdoor caffès in the Italian piazzas. The name changed during Prohibition due to the mass of thirsty American tourists who fell in love with it. Some fifty years later, this drink would inspire one of the most fantastic aperitifs ever: the Negroni (page 42). It is little noted that the Americano is the first cocktail that James Bond orders in Ian Fleming’s first novel Casino Royale, long before he orders a Martini.