In his passage above, Boothby is referring to the fact that the bitters in a cocktail will mitigate the sensation of the fumatic harshness of alcohol, and that the desired nature of a true cocktail is that it should strike the palate as little more than a tamed version of the alcoholic product(s) it is made from. This is actual mixology in a way that memorizing a few dozen recipes for so-called ‘classic cocktails’ never will be. The true cocktail was just one type of the many types of mixed drinks intimately understood by American bar-tenders and drinkers of yore.
Boothby probably had no inkling that people would ever mis-read cocktail for mixed drink in his passage, but, the word has gathered a lot of cultural baggage since then.
We can see that, like the TWA menu he encountered, even Fussell was prone to forget himself. He suggests that the impulse toward fake elegance would cause the middle class to say, “Let’s discuss it over drinks.” He seems to have failed to think fully in the fake-elegant way of the middle-class and has forgotten to abandon drink in favor of cocktail – even though that is exactly the conversion he suggests in the first passage. The more completely fake-elegant saying would be: “Let’s discuss it over cocktails.”
Think of this when, after pointing out that a drink is not a cocktail according to traditional mixology, you are told by some bar creature: “Cocktails have changed.”
True cocktails still exist in the original mixological sense. They include the Old-fashioned Whiskey Cocktail, the Sazerac (or Zazarack) Cocktail, and, since there is sugar in vermouth wine, the Camparinete (a.k.a. Negroni) Cocktail or the Manhattan Cocktail.
It’s not that cocktails have changed so much as that fake elegance has taken up the word cocktail – and has made it almost meaningless.
If julep had been the drink-word taken up by middle-class fake elegance, we would today have julep napkins, julep dresses, julep waitresses, julep specialists, julep books, julep parties, Tales of the Julep, craft juleps, julep bars, julep culture, the julep renaissance and the Museum of the American Julep. Yes, that is how ridiculous all of those phrases sound to me with the word cocktail in them instead.
Several years ago, in an online forum, someone indicated to me that, while he understood the original mixological meaning of the word cocktail, he saw no problem with using it to mean mixed drink. He then added, “But, Martini is a whole nuther thing [sic].” To that, my good friend and bar-tender Greg Bryson exclaimed, “It’s exactly the same thing!”
The bar creature on the forum probably didn’t realize that he was only making a distinction in the lexicon of fake elegance rather than in mixology. In some circles, it seems that the word cocktail can be used with empty, fake elegance, but not the word Martini.
It really can’t be denied that a bar-tender who knows better but still clings to the willy-nilly use of the word cocktail for drinks such as the Whiskey Sour, the Sidecar and endless others (as well as everything related to mixed drinks) is doing nothing more than maintaining fake elegance — and the vocabulary thereof.