A Good Drink that is Also Laughable


I often chuckle while witnessing bar-tenders today mimicking advances in drink-making that were revolutionary in 1855 – and thinking them to be new.

One example is as using sugar syrup (instead of dry sugar) in true cocktails and stirring them cold through plenty of ice.

Today, bar-tenders imagine that applying the above methods to the Old-fashioned Whiskey Cocktail improves it. They are right – but the improvement was already done within a few years of 1855. It was then that method for making the Whiskey Cocktail were changed to take advantage of pure water and ice suddenly becoming cheap and plentiful, allowing for simple syrup to be cheap and plenty of ice to be available for stirring with and straining from.

Modern bar-tenders, you’re almost there. All you have to do now to catch up with 1855 is to strain your Whiskey Cocktail just as you would a Manhattan Cocktail – and, for the same reasons.

Of course, if you don’t know the traditional meaning of the word cocktail, you probably are a little lost here. Come take my classes.

Suffice it to say that once the Whiskey Cocktail was made with sugar syrup and stirred with ice and strained into a goblet for a perfectly cold drink that would never get further diluted, the older, inferior way of making the Whiskey Cocktail produced the drink that after 1855 was called the Old-fashioned Whiskey Cocktail.

Yes, I am saying the the Old-fashioned Whiskey Cocktail (probably just “Old Fashioned” to some benighted readers) is inferior to the Whiskey Cocktail. Between 1860 and 1900, the Whiskey Cocktail, made the modern way and strained and served without any ice, was one of the most commonly-served drink in American bars. It was served more commonly during those forty years than the Old-fashioned Whiskey Cocktail. What a shame that the inferior of the two is the only one that is easy to obtain in our own time.

Now modern bar-tenders are making the Whiskey Cocktail almost as good as it was in 1855 (if only they would stop serving it on ice) and imagining that this is something new and the product of sensitive consideration. It is laughable.

Likewise devoid of any traditional knowledge is the imagining that there is something new – down to giving it a new typological name – to the so-called Lift.

Truth be told, this type of drink goes at least as far back as 1883. An American bar-tender from then would look at the so-called Bourbon Lift and recognize it to be an especially-fancy reworking of the Bourbon Puff. If had I been the bar-tender that created it, I would have made clear through naming it that I understood American mixological tradition and history enough to call if a Puff – instead of making up a new name that suggests ignorance of tradition. I also would have understood it to be far too fancy to just call it the Bourbon Puff. I might have called it the Special Bourbon Puff or maybe the Bohemian Cowboy Puff. But a plain name for a fancy drink, combined with an obvious ignorance of American drink types (a consequence of the grasping overuse of ‘cocktail’), shrouds the publication of a very good drink in the mists of ignorance.

Camparinete/Campari-Mixte Cocktails vs. the Negroni Cup

Not Negroni

Is the drink above a Negroni? It certainly is not. I can tell just by looking at it.

I see a lot of ‘study’ on the origins of ‘the’ ‘Negroni.’

When we take the name we have for a drink and project it onto mixers and recipes that never used that name for the drink, we are making the story about us and our notions.

That’s fine. But, it’s not good scholarship.

What actually happened is not that the mixers and namers of the very similar, both-1929-published, Camparinete Cocktail and Campari Mixte Cocktail ‘invented’ ‘the first Negronis.’ They didn’t use that name and would have thought it strange for anyone to suggest that they should. Their drinks have clear chronological priority over any extant evidence of any drink called ‘Negroni.’ Biographical data about any of the historical men with the name ‘Negroni’ is not evidence for the existence of the drink during any of their lifetimes. If I call a new drink tomorrow the Lincoln Cocktail… well, you get the point. We have to stick to the textual record. Here it is (you might want to click on the chart to enlarge it):

Camparinete Cocktail vs Negroni Cup chart

It is not the problem of the first mixers of the Camparinete and Campari Mixte Cocktails that the name of an altogether different drink from the 1940’s has been applied to their drinks.

Don’t be fooled by the superficial similarity suggested by the simple listing of ingredients between the Camparinete or Campari Mixte Cocktails and the Negroni Cup. Make either of the two cocktails and then make the cup and witness how different types of tipples can express the same liquors to rather different effects. [I don’t know… perhaps I’m just a super-taster.]

Camparinete Cocktail

Negroni Cup

This mentally-lazy lumping of all sorts of things together under the blanket misnomer of ‘cocktails’ is an intellectual crime that gets well-intended people to waste a lot of time trying to find the ‘original’ drink recipes for tipples as we misunderstand them today.

Don’t get me started on “the” so-called “Old-fashioned!”

A Taste of Things to Come –Two Teaser Pages

Greetings to all!

I am a little bit excited about the project I am working my way through now. I hope that it might be useful as a ‘behind the stick’ resource for a few people who have asked about the prospects of an Elemental Mixology app for use while making drinks.

It might also over time become a way for people to learn something about mixological tradition even if they will never be able to attend an Elemental Mixology course.

What I am referring to is a ‘studies’ section of the Elemental Mixology website that will give descriptions, basic forms, and selected specific drinks for every genre, sub-genre and family of tipple (a word for alcoholic drinks that is playful without violating the traditional meaning of the word ‘cocktail’ — imagine how much better and honoring of the old tradition  Tipple Tales would have been over Tales of the Cocktail).

Elemental Mixology alumni will understand what a large undertaking this is.

In the meantime, here are two teaser pages:



Some of the links and buttons already work and others do not. Feel free to explore. I will be posting news of the completion of the tipples section of the website as soon as it is done.

Drink of the Day: Pimm’s Number One Cup [a true cup and a drink that was wrong to include in Boardwalk Empire]

Judged according to the classic concept of the cup, the drink so often served as the Pimm’s Number One Cup (so called for the inclusion of the flavored gin liqueur called Pimm’s Liqueur Number One) is not a cup at all. For it to be a true cup, it would have to be based on wine with only a minority amount of carbonated soft-drink. A traditional British ginger wine (a flat grape-raisin wine fermented with ginger) serves the purpose well, but there must be a wine base.

Historical Cup Definitions
  • “Cool-Cup. A beverage so called, usually composed of wine, water, lemon-peel, sugar and borage; and introduced at tables in warm weather.”
    English Dictionary  (Johnson, Todd and Chalmers; 1835)
  • “Cup. A beverage made with wine, usually iced, and with flavoring herbs.”
    Thesaurus Dictionary of the English Language  (Francis March; 1906)
  • “cup, n. 11. A name for various beverages consisting of wine sweetened and flavoured with various ingredients and usually iced; as claret-cup, etc.”
    Oxford English Dictionary  (Oxford University Press; 1928)
  • “CUP – A beverage made of wine, usually iced, and with flavoring herbs and fruits, served in garnished pitchers, to be poured at table.”
    Bottoms Up  (Ted Saucier; 1951)

There is much confusion between the mixed drink of the middle nineteenth century called Pimm’s Cup and the bottled liqueur launched around 1930 called Pimm’s Liqueur Number One.

In the middle nineteenth century, James Pimm made and sold a mixed drink he called, “Pimm’s Cup” in his oyster restaurant in London. It was based on wine, stiffened with a little gin, and contained the sorts of aromatic ingredients in cups at the time. The success of that drink led Pimm to offer “Pimm’s Cup Number Two,” and so on. Like the first Pimm’s Cup, these were drinks mixed in the restaurant rather than bottle products.

In 1865, Pimm sold his restaurant. In 1887, under yet new ownership, the restaurant became a franchise as “Pimm’s Oyster Houses.” When did the company that operated Pimm’s Oyster Houses decide to get into the business of selling bottled drinks? The first patent for Pimm’s Liqueur Number One in the U.S.A. was filed in 1933. One might think that the year 1933 has more to do with the repeal of the Volstead act. But, the patent in Canada, with much closer economic and cultural ties to Britain, and a country that never had prohibition, the patent is dated 1937. The patent in Kenya, then a direct British colony, was obtained in 1932. 1932 is probably very close in time to the original British patent and launch date of bottled Pimm’s liqueur. 1930 is probably a very close educated guess for the first launch, anywhere, of Pimm’s liqueur as a bottled product.

But, since awareness of the cup as type of drink with a clear, essential, identity, it is understandable that imperfectly-educated drinks scholars who read of James Pimm serving his Pimm’s Cup in 1851 will confuse that mixed drink for the bottled product.

Even though Pimm’s liqueur was not around until about 1930, it was meant to be the rump ingredient in a Pimm’s Cup. This is much like Falernum liqueur was meant to be the rump of Falernum Punch, which it could be transformed into by adding fresh lime juice. Likewise, Swedish Punch Liqueur can be transformed into Swedish Punch by mixing in fresh lemon juice. To transform Pimm’s liqueur into a Pimm’s cup, one would have to add the ingredients that would have been left out of the liqueur because they are not shelf stable enough to be bottled with it. One ingredient would certainly be the little bit of charged water found in any cup. The other might be the wine base. The most appropriate wine base might be traditional British ginger wine (a flat grape-raisin wine fermented with ginger).

Assuming the Englishmen had not by 1930 forgotten the form of the quintessentially-English cup, it seems likely that the first Pimm’s Cups made with bottled Pimm’s liqueur was still made as a true cup, rather than as the Pimm’s & Ginger-ale Highball or Pimm’s & Lemon-lime Highball that is almost universally served under its name today.

Perhaps some American bar-tender trying to service an Englishman’s request sometime after 1933 (when Pimm’s liqueur was first imported to the U.S.A.), having no ginger wine in the bar (and not even knowing what it was) simply used ginger ale instead and made the more familiar (to him) highball-type drink. We can’t know about that, of course. But the Pimm’s Number One Cup is a much better drink than the fancy Pimm’s Number One Highball that is passed for it almost everywhere. Try it.

P.S.  There is a scene in the television series “Boardwalk Empire” where a character speaks just after the Volstead Act has gone into effect (‘prohibition’) in 1920 of needing Pimm’s Liqueur Number One for the Pimm’s Number One Cup. But, in 1920, bottled Pimm’s liqueur had not yet ever been imported to the U.S.A., and probably didn’t even exist yet.

The Rise of the Spurious Cocktails, or, 1910: The Year the Cocktail Fell

When I first began teaching mixology according to the old, American tradition back in 2008, it was perhaps a bit more surprising to bar-tenders that anyone would keep to the purist idea of what a cocktail is. It was not unusual for the objection of “Cocktails have changed” to be lodged. My response has not changed since those days. It’s not that true cocktails have changed. They really haven’t changed very much. It’s more the case that the use of the word ‘cocktail’ has changed to include many types of drinks that were formerly known by different names.

There was a time when I supposed that this change in the use of the word ‘cocktail’ was due to the Volstead Act and the period of ‘prohibition’ that it ushered in. But, that is not the case. Around 2009, I began to notice from pre-Volstead Act sources that the change in the use of the word cocktail had clearly begun before 1920 (when the Volstead Act went into effect).

When it comes to objects, the Oxford English Dictionary defines the word ‘spurious’ as:

“3. Superficially resembling or simulating, but lacking the genuine character or qualities of, something; not true or genuine; false, sham, counterfeit:”

In this post, I will trace the rise of the spurious cocktails — those single-serving drinks of other genres that are often served in stemmed glassware and always falsely called cocktails. Their names are legion and well-known: Sidecar, Whiskey Sour, Cosmopolitan, Daiquiri, etc. Of course, for a sour (a punch, really) such as all those are — or even a flip or a blossom — to be called a cocktail required the breaking of the traditional drink-related understanding of the word. And so, this post will also trace the breaking of the American cocktail.

This posting should not be misunderstood as suggesting that the only good drinks are true cocktails. Neither should this posting be taken as evaluation of any of the historical drinks or published recipes in any way other than for the genre they actually belong to as published in their sources. This will be an evaluation simply of what the authors (and therefore many of the readers) of the historical publications meant (or didn’t) when they used the word ‘cocktail.’

I cannot strongly enough advise reading this post through. It will give you understanding of an important aspect of old drink books (and the historic loss of traditional mixology) that, so far, has escaped the notice of every last celebrated name hired to write the forwards for the contemporary reprint editions of these books.

Here is the key by which to understand the indication of true recipe item types throughout this post. [Click on any image in the posting to enlarge it for better reading.]

RSC 001

If the names of the above genres are unfamiliar to you, it will suffice to notice as you read this post that the more colored highlighting of drink names in any source below, the farther that author was from the traditional concept of what a cocktail is. It is also worth noting that the non-highlighted drink names that appear in italics are for non-bittered slings. If the cocktail is just another name for the bittered sling (which it is), then omitting the bitters from a drink that is otherwise like a cocktail means that the drink is just a sling of some sort, and not a true cocktail. True cocktails are just one sub-genre of the slings. They will be indicated here by being underlined.

Spurious cocktails have been published in books going all the way back to Jerry Thomas. The so-called Soda Cocktail was nothing more than bitters added to cold soda water or lemon-flavored soda water.

RSC 1862 Thomas

92.3% of the items named ‘cocktail’ in Jerry Thomas’ 1862 book, How to Mix Drinks, actually are cocktails according to traditional understanding. I would say that it has a cocktail accuracy rating of 92.3.%

Next, let’s look below at the relevant entries from Harry Johnson’s 1882 book, Harry Johnson’s New and Improved Bartender’s Manual. Its cocktail accuracy rate is 90.9%

RSC 1882 Johnson

Below are the relevant items from O.H. Byron’s 1884 book, Modern Bar-Tenders’ Guide. It has a cocktail accuracy rating of 95.5% (the all time high, as far as I know).

RSC 1884 Byron

Next is the 1887 book, Jerry Thomas’ Bar-Tender’s Guide. It is doubtful that the book was actually written by the then-late Jerry Thomas. The authors removed the so-called Soda Cocktail from the cocktail section and put it in the “Temperance Drinks” section — where it belongs. They also indicated in a note under the so-called Coffee Cocktail (actually fitting the flip sub-genre of the possets) that they did not consider the drink to truly be a cocktail. With that in mind, one could argue that this book has a cocktail accuracy rating of 100%. However, since the drink (and its recipe) was left in the cocktail section, I find that the cocktail accuracy rating of this book is 94.7%. Below are the drinks in question.

RSC 1887 Dick & Fitzgerald

Below is the information we want from Harry Johnson’s 1888 book, Harry Johnson’s New and Improved Illustrated Bartender’s Manual. It has a cocktail accuracy rating of 92.3%. The rating is higher than Johnson’s earlier book since he added more true cocktails without adding any spurious ones.

RSC 1888 Johnson

Next, below, is the pertinent data from William Boothby’s 1891 book, American Bar-Tender. Its cocktail accuracy rating is 85.7% — the earliest here to slip from a ‘A’ grade to a ‘B.’

RSC 1891 Boothby

Next is William Schmidt’s 1892 book, Flowing Bowl. It seems to have been the first to list any non-bittered slings and even punches in the cocktail section. Schmidt was very much ahead of his time in so blurring the concept of the cocktail. The non-bittered slings are closely related to cocktails, but no one before him had called such drinks cocktails. Neither does any source after Schmidt call such drink cocktails for another decade. Schmidt’s book has a cocktail accuracy rating of 80%.  If we feel like being generous and count the non-bittered slings together with the bittered slings as ‘cocktails’ (which I do not favor), the book would have a cocktail accuracy rating of 92%. Below are the relevant items.

RSC 1892 Schmidt

Next, below, we have one of my all-time favorite books on tipples, George Kappeler’s 1895, Modern American Drinks. Its cocktail accuracy rating is back into the ‘A’ grade territory. Kappeler was the first drink-writing American bar-tender to include food items as cocktails, the so-called Clam Cocktail and the so-called Oyster Cocktail. But, his book also represents a sort of zenith in the history of the true cocktail. He remains mostly as faithful to the traditional cocktail as the books that came before him, and gives us a massively increased repertoire of them.

RSC 1895 Kappeler

Below is the pertinent data from Tim Daly’s 1903 book, Daly’s Bartenders’ Encyclopedia. It is very rooted in the old tradition and has a cocktail accuracy rating of 91.9%

RSC 1903 Daly

Next, below, is the great little Gorham Cocktail Book of 1905. As far as I know, it is the only true cocktail book that has ever been published. It was a book that only gave recipes for cocktails — not sours, coolers, blossoms, punches, highballs, fizzes, daisies, etc. Therefore, it isn’t surprising that its cocktail accuracy rating is also in the ‘A’ grade range with an even 90%. Below are all of the recipe items from the entire book.

RSC 1905 Gorham

Below is the information from Charles Mahoney’s 1905 book, Hoffman House Bartender’s Guide. Mahoney lists a punch and a non-bittered sling as cocktails. It seems no one else had done that since William Schmidt thirteen years earlier. Mahoney’s book has a cocktail accuracy rating of 83.7%. If we count the non-bittered slings as cocktails, the rating becomes 86%.

RSC 1905 Mahoney

Next, below, is the data from William Boothby’s 1908 book, World’s Drinks and How to Mix Them. In this book, Boothby explicitly wrote, “The idea of making any liquor into a cocktail was conceived only for the purpose of removing the sharp, raw taste peculiar to all plain liquors.Therefore it is not necessary to use a combination of cordials, essences or lemon juices as some ‘bar creatures’ do…” Of all drink writers of yore, only Boothby bothered to write out what was widely understood about the cocktail, it should strike the palate as little more than the liquor(s) it is made of, only slightly sweetened and diluted and with bitters added to remove the fumatic harshness of the ethanol. Thank you, William Boothby, for preserving that common bit of knowledge so that contemporary ‘bar creatures’ today might yet learn and repent! Boothby’s 1908 book is massively important for anyone studying American tipple tradition. It includes the oldest-known recipes for the Bronx Cocktail, the Sazerac Cocktail, and the Gibson [sling].

That said, Boothby’s 1908 book included as cocktails two non-bittered slings — the Gibson and the Zaza. Previous bar-tenders would have added bitters to Boothby’s two non-bittered slings and made them cocktails, since that’s what they were called. For the Gibson, Boothby even felt the need to explicitly write, “No bitters should ever be used in making this drink, but an olive is sometimes added.” He knew many bar-tenders would otherwise want to add bitters. And, yes, that’s an olive, not an onion. The Gibson is the original name for what people today call the ‘classic’ Martini.

Boothby’s 1908 book has a cocktail accuracy rating of 81.4%. If we feel like being generous and count the non-bittered slings together with the bittered slings as ‘cocktails’ (which I do not favor), the book would have a cocktail accuracy rating of 86%. Either way, the grade is a very-solidly passing ‘B.’

RSC 1908 Boothby

Up until this point in history, no blossoms (liquor modified by lesser-or-equal parts succulent juice) had been called cocktails in any tipple book. That is because they were a relatively new type of drink. It seems like no one knew what to call them at first. Some writers called them punches and others called them cocktails. In fact, it wasn’t until the 1930’s that the term blossom seems to have become accepted in published sources as name for a type of drink. In Jacob Grohusko’s 1916 edition of his book, Jack’s Manual, blossoms are listed as cocktails and there are quite a few of them. As you can see below, Grohusko’s book presents a wild expansion of the meme of listing non-bittered slings as cocktails. It really isn’t clear that Grohusko ever did know the traditional concept of the cocktail that Boothby published just before. Grohusko’s 1910 book has a cocktail accuracy rating of 47.4%. This number quantifies a drastic falling away from tradition by this source, and would be marked as a failing ‘F’ grade. If we want to be generous and include non-bittered slings as cocktails, the book’s cocktail accuracy rating would be 86.9%

RSC 1910 Grohusko

We can see that the cocktail is broken in Grohusko’s 1910 book in about the same way as it is now — just not quite as extremely so. But, was that the turning point?

The next source below, Jacques Straub’s 1914 book, Drinks, reinforces the then-new paradigm. It includes more drinks called ‘cocktail’ than any other pre-1920 book. It’s cocktail accuracy rating is 42.7% — again a failing ‘F’ grade. If we generously include non-bittered slings as cocktails, the grade rises to 87.5%

RSC 1914 Straub

In 1916, Grohusko published an up-dated edition of his book, Jack’s Manual. The 1916 edition is actually the one wrongly sold as the 1910 reprint — tisk, tisk, tisk. As can be seen below, the 1916 edition has a cocktail accuracy rating of 43.8% — still a failing ‘F’ grade. Counting non-bittered slings as cocktails boosts the rating to 83.3%

RSC 1916 Grohusko

Below is the information from Thomas Bullock’s 1917 book, Ideal Bartender. It has a cocktail accuracy rating of 32.4% — a failing ‘F’ grade. If we count non-bittered slings as cocktails, the rating rises to 64.9%.

RSC 1917 Bullock

Finally, below, we have the evaluation of Hugo Ensslin’s 1917 book, How to Mix Drinks. Instead of Grohusko’s practice of running all drinks together in roughly alphabetic fashion, regardless of genre, Ensslin returns to having a dedicated cocktail section. But, that seems to amount to very little. Look at the colored highlighting of so many drinks from his cocktail section. Each one of those is something not only other than a cocktail — they aren’t even slings. Sadly, Ensslin’s concept of what a cocktail is seems just as befuddled and empty as that of post-1920 books such as Harry Craddock’s Savoy Cocktail Book (sic). Ensslin’s book has a cocktail accuracy rating of just 30.7 percent — a miserably failing ‘F’ grade worthy of books from the 1930’s! Even if we are generous and allow the counting of non-bittered slings as bittered slings (cocktails), the book only reaches a rating of 61.3%.

RSC 1917 Ensslin

In summation, I think that it is clear that whether we say that the (concept of the) American cocktail was broken in 1910 or not, by 1917 it surely was. That means that it really is not accurate to carry on accusing the Volstead Act of being the culprit. The American cocktail was broken before ‘prohibition’ ever got its hands on it.

The question is: why? I have thought very much about what broke the cocktail around 1910. It is possible that the growing fame of the cocktail had already driven enough people to seek them out that there were more people with interest in cocktails than those with awareness of what they were. It’s also possible that the preference among some (undoubtedly alcoholic) men for the un-bittered, stiffer, alcoholic sensation of the Gibson and other non-bittered slings was the first crack in the cocktail. Perhaps the growing stigmatization of drinking alcohol had some negative affect on the profession and training standards of tending bar. Perhaps all of these were factors. I have no really substantial hypothesis.

Let’s not wait for some celebrated drinks historian to realize that they haven’t even begun to understand this historic phenomenon. They still seem too busy wrapping themselves up in the glamorous veneer and positive social bias associated by many with the word cocktail to have anything worthwhile to say about this. But, perhaps one of you, my readers, will have some insight on this history and share it.

Now, go stir up a good Whiskey Cocktail, strain it and drink it — but, for Bacchus’ sake, not from a coupe!

Elemental Mixology Cited by Simon Difford & Karen Fick

[This posting should be read with a posting I wrote in 2012, and a posting I wrote in 2013 — also on the Campari Mixte / Camparinete / Negroni subject]

I was pleased to discover that Elemental Mixology was quoted in the Negroni article by Simon Difford and Karen Fick. Thank you, Simon and Karen!

I do want to make clear that I do not consider any of the drinks mentioned to have necessarily ‘come from’ any of the others.

The late-ancient Greek scholar, Diogenes Laertius (or perhaps his now non-extant sources), saw connections in thought between various of the ancient philosophers and presented his book, Lives and Opinions of Eminent Philosophers, in chronological, tidy, student-pupil relationships. By focusing on personalities and relationships, he seems to have missed much of what was remarkable in the development of philosophical thought — the most important aspect, really.

Likewise, it would be a gross error of over-simplification to say that the Dundorado Cocktail begat the Campari Mixte Cocktail, which begat the Camparinete Cocktail, which begat the Negroni Cocktail.

What is more likely is that people naturally experimented with slightly modifying gin-based cocktails that were sweetened with vermouth wine.

This required virtually no inspiration – vermouth wine was practically the default sweetener in all new true cocktails created after around 1900. The success of the Martini Cocktail had established that specifically gin-based cocktails sweetened with vermouth wine were worth experimenting with.

Furthermore, cinchona bitters (such as Calisaya and Campari) had been getting the attention of bar-tenders and drinkers since the 1890’s.

Such true cocktails as the 1895 Dundorado, the 1929 Campari Mixte, and the 1934 Camparinete (all that might be called ‘the Negroni’ today — or versions of it) would have been obvious drinks to make to any slightly-curious bar-tender. We can’t really be surprised (or even consider it inspired) that multiple similar recipes would show up in exactly the time-frame they did — independently of each other.

“Who invented the Negroni?” ‘Invented’ – don’t make me laugh! Given the understanding of drinks at the time, combined with the availability of the products needed, it was always going to happen, sooner or later, in one place or another. Whoever first mixed a drink that would be called ‘the Negroni’ today probably barely beat out the next guy who made the something very similar not knowing anyone else was doing it. Such a drink was almost surely made by multiple bar-tenders before one of them happened to become more widely known and published.

P.S. – None of this should be interpreted as my saying that Simon Difford and Karen Fick have written a ‘begat’-focused history of these drinks. Their article doesn’t necessarily read that way.

Fun Thing of the Day: the Hanford Cocktail from 1912

One of the things I am sure to mention at least once in any mixing course I teach is that what people think of today as the ‘classic Martini’ [dry gin, dry vermouth, no bitters, stirred through ice, strained into the goblet and garnished with a pickled green olive] was more-originally called the Gibson. Often someone will say that they thought the Gibson was “a Martini with an onion in it” [instead of the olive]. That’s to be expected — I was taught the same thing years ago. At that point I show the historical record of the Gibson, to indicate that there being no bitters in the drink was much more important to its identity than the olive (yes, olive — not onion) that was the earliest-mentioned garniture for the drink. The slide show starts with the following image.

Gibsons 1898 1908

But what of “a Martini with an onion?” Where did that come from?

Maybe it came from the Hanford Cocktail.

I found this drink mentioned in the Saturday, July 13th, 1912 edition of the Tacoma Times.

Hanford Cocktail 19120713

All those so-called Gibsons might actually be more historically accurate if called Hanfords!

Whence the Mai-Tai? — Hey Vic, Step Aside for the Lady!

Bergeron - 1956 letter detail 002

Though the Mai Tai drink is mentioned in newspapers as early as 1955, the earliest extant recipe for the Mai-Tai is in a letter that ‘Trader Vic’ Bergeron wrote in May of 1956. Someone had written, apparently asking for the recipe for the drink she had encountered while at Bergeron’s Hawaiian establishment. The sole subject of Vic’s reply letter is the Mai Tai drink, but he simply referred to it as “the Mai Tai as served here and at the Royal Hawaiian.” He does not in any way claim the drink as being his own creation in the 1956 letter. Around 1970, Bergeron did forcefully claim to be the drink’s originator, and that he had done so in 1944 using old, traditional rum (17-year old Wray and Nephew Jamaican rum).

I have long suspected that Bergeron was being less than truthful in 1970. I suspect he mentioned a discontinued rum to allege an earlier creation of the drink. I further suspect that he put his own idea of the meaning of the name into the mouths of a couple of ‘white’ American friends to give the name a mythos that made sense to him while supporting his allegations. This couple allegedly spontaneously described the drink in Polynesian language (because they had supposedly in 1944 been visiting Tahiti) as being “mai tai,” and so on, as the oft-repeated-and-uncritically-swallowed story goes.

Because he had such an obvious motive, and because to me his 1970 story claiming creation of the Mai Tai seems both a little too convenient and a little too contrived, I have doubted Vic’s honesty in this matter.

So, I wondered what person or thing named anything like Mai Tai might have had enough cultural currency in no more than a decade before the earliest known mention of the drink and recipe in 1956.

There are items in newspapers from that period that mention a cat being named Mai Tai and other items about a sailboat named Mai Tai. Both come in the middle of the 1950’s and before the earliest known mention of any drink bearing the same name. To me this suggests the possibility that the cat, the boat and the drink were all named after another Mai Tai.

Mai Tai Sing was a Chinese-American dancer and actress. She was born in Oakland, California and in the late 1940’s was working as a lead dancer at the Forbidden City. She is pictured at center-top in the following photograph.

Mai Tai Sing and the Forbidden City Dancers

The Forbidden City was a Chinese-American-owned nightclub that was also a destination for those caught up in the post-war explosion of tiki culture. The place is specifically mentioned in work exploring the contribution of Chinese-American nightclubs to the development of tiki culture.

Further amplifying her exposure at the time, Mai Tai Sing appeared as a dancer in the 1951 movie, the Golden Horde – and played the role of Soo Lee in 1953’s Forbidden (starring Tony Curtis).

All of this puts Mai Tai Sing in the right time and very much in the right place – both geographically and culturally.

After decades of managing nightclubs such as the Rickshaw in San Francisco and Trappers in the Hyatt Waikiki, Mai Tai Sing is now retired. She might be asked by someone if she remembers ever hearing that a drink had been named after her. Of course, it could have been without her ever knowing it.

It should be noted that her given name is Mai, and her married name is Tai Sing. But, in the 1940’s and 1950’s, she was usually presented as “Mai Tai Sing” and a great many people not familiar with Chinese names might have referred to her as “Mai Tai.”

The evidence that the Mai-Tai drink was named after Mai Tai Sing is not conclusive in any way. It is circumstantial, but strongly so. It satisfies the need to show ‘motive, means and opportunity,’ so to speak. I also find it to require less of a leap of faith than to believe the account supplied very late in the day (1970) by someone (‘Trader Vic’) whose ego was clearly involved in getting the public to believe his story of being the drink’s creator (back in 1944, allegedly) instead of Don ‘the Beachcomber,” with whom Vic was was chief participant in a battle between two cranky, old men over past glory.

I suspect that neither of them created the drink. I have a feeling that it was made by some unsung, non-Chinese, bar-tender working in a tiki establishment in the San Francisco Bay area some time between 1949 and 1953. My hunch is that the drink was good enough that it quickly outpaced the moderate and localized fame of its namesake — the beautiful Mai Tai Sing.

Mai Tai Sing

Second Drink of the Day – The Fix

It has been said (in a thoroughly modern gloss) that the traditional American drink known as the fix is essentially a sour made fancy with pineapple syrup. That simply isn’t true according to historical sources. What is true according to virtually all pre-1920 fixes is that they are short punches always served with ice in them, where the sour is a a short punch not served with ice. That is the irreducible difference between fixes and sours – traditionally-speaking.

Below is a survey of some recipes for fixes that were published before 1920.


Of the ten recipes above, five are plain – being sweetened only with plain sugar. The other five are fancy – with four being at least partially sweetened with flavored syrup and the other with both flavored syrup and liqueur.

Assuming medium-sized lemons or bartender’s lime (Citrus aurantifolia, a.k.a. the Key lime), the sour juice amount ranges from about ¼ fl-oz. (“¼ lemon” or “1 lime”) all the way to about 1 fl-oz. (“juice of one lemon”). The most common amount for the sour juice is about ½ fl-oz., being either the juice of half a medium lemon or about 3 dashes from a bottle with a standard-sized mouth.

Four of the recipes include a slight amount of water suitable for dissolving sugar with. One includes “enough water” to make the drink fill the glassware. Only one explicitly includes a relatively large amount of water. Four of the recipes have no added water as a measured separate ingredient at all.

All ten of the recipes indicate that the drink will be served with ice in it. Eight of them indicate shaved or finely-crushed ice. One indicates cracked ice, and another indicates just “ice.”

The mixing method for most of the above is to stir the drink in the same ice it will be served in – making many pre-1920 fixes essentially the same as many post-1933 swizzles. The method in the last recipe, from 1914, seems most modern in that the drink is shaken and then strained over fresh ice.

Surveying pre-1920 fixes (including many not shown here) for majority opinion, reduced to a minimal set of features, this author finds that fixes are short punches (being made without added, liquid water as a measured ingredient) that are always served with ice in them. Your last Whiskey Sour might have been more of a Whiskey Fix!

As the nineteenth century drew to a close, punches began being published in recipes with less and less added water as a listed ingredient.


Notice that the earlier sources use a full fluid-ounce of water (half a wine-glass), but that the later ones use just enough to dissolve the sugar with. This development led to standard punches often being essentially the same as fixes. I like to call this historical phenomenon the ‘fixification’ of punches.


Notice that in the above source, the fix and the punch have become very similar, being made with at least ½ fl-oz. of sour juice (3 dashes), without any more water than needed to dissolve sugar with, and served in ice with fruity garniture and straw.

It may be tempting to conclude that the main difference in flavor between the two drinks above is that the punch is sweetened with plain sugar where the fix is sweetened with a fancy syrup (pineapple). But, as shown on the previous page, recipes for fixes were also often completely void of any fancy sweetener. In fact, some historical sources regularly made their fixes plain and their punches fancy.


Before the Volstead Act (prohibition in the U.S.A.), swizzles were thought of as an especially Caribbean, crushed ice version of the American cocktail and did not usually contain any juice. This type of drink was not any more immune to the punchification of drinks, in general, than the true cocktail. After the repeal of the Volstead Act in 1933, swizzles appear in books as punches generally (with sour juice) – and especially in an additionally-aromatized twist on the form of the old fix, in crushed ice.


Is a fix any less worthy than a sour? Of course it isn’t! Does a fix need pineapple syrup to be good? Of course it doesn’t. My favorite fixes don’t have it. One of the best fixes ever is the serano-accented rye whiskey fix known as the Future Fix — a drink by my friend, Greg Bryson.

Here are some of the ways I like to make my fixes: