Recipes

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

I named this punch after the subtitle of Shakespeare’s comedy “Twelfth Night”: A wonderfully boozy play merits a suitably potent (and fun) drink. The whiskey-based punch includes nutmeg and cinnamon, flavors that evoke the winter holiday from which the play takes its title — but it’s delicious any time of year. Be sure to prepare the oleo-saccharum in advance.

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

The name and color of this cocktail may bring to mind sunlight playing on the East River (or, if you prefer, the arguably more romantic Gowanus Canal). Whatever it evokes, it’s delicious — a bold but balanced blend of botanical flavors from floral gin, gentian liqueur and Aperol. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Though it may seem demure, lavender should be handled with a delicate touch in drinks lest it overpower other ingredients. Here, gently deployed, it lends its gorgeous floral flavor and aroma to a tall, icy and refreshing cobbler. A small measure of crème de violette deepens the floral nature of this drink and adds a faint purplish haze. (The name honors the brilliant Ealing Studios comedy, "The Lavender Hill Mob," starring Alec Guinness).

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

This cocktail — essentially a tequila sour softened by elderflower liqueur and gilded with a garnish of flower petals and toasted sunflower seeds (which add a surprising crunch) — aspires to capture some of the unambiguous cheerfulness most of us associate with sunflowers and serve it in a glass. It’s named for William Blake’s decidedly ambiguous poem, “Ah! Sunflower.”

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

S.S. Field calls this early concoction “a drink that may have helped to change and improve our history but that two centuries of history have neither changed nor improved.” Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Presumably with tongue in cheek, Field writes that “the inevitability of a 16th-century Rum Sour — sweetened with sugar and garnished with a pineapple stick — is well-nigh undeniable.” I do not share his sense of inevitability, but I do love the cocktail. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

The earliest known recipe for this bracing little number appears in the magnificently named 1935 cocktail book, "So Red the Nose, or — Breath in the Afternoon," to which many famous authors of the day contributed recipes. This one came from Ernest Hemingway, who explained: “This was arrived at by the author and three officers of H.M.S. Danae after having spent seven hours overboard trying to get Capt. Bra Saunders’ fishing boat off a bank where she had gone with us in a N.W. gale.” Even under less dramatic circumstances, it’s a drink that packs a punch. Pastis is often substituted for the absinthe, but if you want to be as Hemingwayesque as possible, stick to the original specs.

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Gates Otsuji of the bar Le Bain at the Standard Hotel in New York created this refined, but lively spritzer. It riffs on the popular Aperol spritz, but, Otsuji notes, “the addition of vodka raises the A.B.V. of the cocktail just enough to take it from aperitif to anytime, and the orange juice adds some body to the texture." Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Originally a slushie of sorts devised by the legendary chef Escoffier, Punch Romaine is perhaps best remembered, according to Talia Baiocchi and Leslie Pariseau in their book, "Spritz," as “the sixth course of the Titanic’s final first-class dinner.” If you can get past the drink's tragic history, this updated version (adapted from Spritz) is beautiful — and beautifully refreshing. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Jill Dobias, of the East Village restaurant Joe and Misses Doe, is a master of creative cocktails with irreverent names. The Clam in a Can is her spicy, beery riff on an oyster shooter. It also brings a michelada to my mind. Be sure to get your cans very clean and very cold before making the drinks. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

My friend Michael Sharkey is one of the best home bartenders I know, and he sometimes surprises me with delicious new creations when I visit. His latest is the Eye of the Komodo (he originally christened it Ojo del Komodo — but I botched and Anglicized it, probably because I think the Eye of the Komodo sounds more like a ‘60s horror movie). Built on a foundation of what Michael calls “lizard liquid” and fortified by mezcal, it is bright green, satisfyingly spicy and garnished with a vegetal “eyeball.” What’s not to love? Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

This is “one of Don the Beachcomber's baroque 1940s masterpieces,” Jeff Berry says, and he didn’t change a thing when he put it on the menu at Latitude 29. Yes, that’s quite a long list of ingredients, but they coalesce into a memorable drink and a classic, quintessential tiki experience. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Does a cocktail have to include rum in order to be considered a tiki drink? No — gin will do just fine, too. Jeff Berry created this for Beachbum Berry’s Latitude 29 in New Orleans, and it has become one of its most popular menu items. Ginger liqueur and cinnamon syrup give this gently effervescent number a spicy kick. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Franky Marshall of the Brooklyn cocktail bar Le Boudoir boldly created a cocktail using three tricky spirits that might not seem to mix well: mezcal, Scotch whisky and banana liqueur. Softened and slightly sweetened by honey syrup, they harmonize into a strong, smoky, seductive drink that might make you lose your head (in the best possible way).

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Do you really need instructions for this? Of course not. But I’ve heard more than one bar regular refer to a beer and a shot, with tongue in cheek, as his or her favorite “cocktail.” The classic combo of a beer (on draft or in a bottle) and a shot of whiskey is also often called a boilermaker, but some will insist that it’s only a boilermaker if the whiskey is added directly to the beer. I’d rather keep the components separate, thanks, and, in keeping with venerable dive-bar tradition, I’ll take mine with very cold beer that doesn’t demand much from the palate (usually a lager) and bottom-shelf bourbon.

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

The Captain’s Blood is similar to a daiquiri, except that it’s made with dark rum instead of white and a small but essential measure of falernum (a syrup flavored with spices, often nuts, sometimes lime, sometimes alcoholic and sometimes not, often used in Caribbean rum drinks). I prefer my Captain’s Blood on the tart side, but you can adjust the amount of sugar to make it as sweet or as sharp as you like.

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

The Blood and Sand counters the notion that Scotch whisky can't play well in a mixed drink: Without that deep, vital smokiness, this drink would be a much less exciting proposition. In the 1930 "Savoy Cocktail Book," Harry Craddock’s recipe calls for equal parts Scotch whisky, cherry brandy, Italian vermouth and orange juice. I prefer different proportions that allow the whisky and juice to predominate — and I especially like it when fresh blood orange juice is available, both for color and flavor.

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Brad Thomas Parsons, the author of "Amaro: The Spirited World of Bittersweet, Herbal Liqueurs," created this invigorating highball that brings together an unexpected trio of ingredients: rye whiskey, Amaro Lucano and strong coffee. It’s a bold (and delicious) blend — and, thanks to the coffee, as good an afternoon pick-me-up as any drink that includes whiskey and amaro can reasonably be expected to be. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

‘‘I’ll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family,’’ Scrooge tells Bob Cratchit near the end of A Christmas Carol, ‘‘and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop!’’ This recipe, adapted from the book Drinking With Dickens, by Charles Dickens’s great-grandson, Cedric, reflects Scrooge’s new disposition and largesse perfectly: it’s warm and sweet and meant for sharing. (To Cedric Dickens’s recipe, I’ve added some fragrant cardamom pods, because years of drinking glogg have shown me how well they play with orange and wine, but you may omit them). If you’re unable to find Seville oranges—marked by a pleasant, pronounced bitterness — substitute five navel oranges, and add the juice of one lemon when you add the port to the pan (do not stud the lemon with cloves or roast the lemon with the oranges). Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

According to his great-grandson, Cedric, Charles Dickens ‘‘loved the ritual of mixing the evening glass of Gin Punch, which he performed with all the energy and discrimination of Mr. Micawber.’’ You may recall that, in ‘‘David Copperfield,’’ Wilkins Micawber is uplifted by a humble gin punch: ‘‘I never saw a man so thoroughly enjoy himself amid the fragrance of lemon-peel and sugar, the odour of burning spirit, and the steam of boiling water, as Mr. Micawber did that afternoon.” Although this is called a punch, note that it’s a serving for one — but don't let that stop you from making it for company. Its combination of spirit, warmth and spice will bring to mind a hot toddy, and it's fragrant and flavorful enough to supplant the more familiar whiskey-based version — at least for a season. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

Like Andrea Pirlo, the celebrated Italian midfielder with whom it shares its name, the drink called Pirlo comes from Brescia, in northern Italy. But I can’t think of an aperitivo hour anywhere where it would not be perfectly at home. My friend Damiano Abeni, also a Brescian, introduced me to the Pirlo in Rome. It’s the easiest thing ever to make: Stripped to its essentials, the drink simply combines Campari with sparkling white Italian wine. But Damiano specifically uses Pignoletto frizzante (“NO PROSECCO allowed,” he wrote to me by email, caps his), and prefers to garnish with half a slice of Sicilian blood orange of the Tarocco variety. He favors 2-3 parts of wine to one part Campari, allowing that one “can play with the proportions,” and that in warm weather, ice may be added — but for Damiano, the addition of ice usually means “more Campari.” Unsurprisingly, he forgoes the club soda — but you may wish to add some if you like extra fizz (and lower alcohol). Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

I’ll admit it: I have a mild case of Negroni fatigue. It’s a good drink, for sure — and when it’s beautifully made, I readily succumb to its charms — but its ubiquity in recent years has become a tiny bit tiresome. So I welcome its rarer, lighter cocktail cousin, the Cyn Cyn, in which Cynar — the wonderful, mysterious, arguably underappreciated amaro made with artichoke — replaces Campari. It’s a favorite aperitivo of the author Elizabeth Minchilli, whose elegant, straightforward recipe this is. Rosie Schaap

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

As with many classic cocktails, numerous origin stories have attached themselves to The Gibson like barnacles, and the truth is uncertain. One thing is clear, however: the pickled onion hasn’t always been part of the Gibson legend. The recipe in my 1933 edition of The Savoy Cocktail Book is essentially a formula for what many would call a 50/50 martini — half gin, half dry vermouth, with a faint spritz of lemon essence. Nonetheless, we now tend to regard The Gibson as a martini in which a cocktail onion is swapped in for the usual olive — and that’s the version of the story I’m sticking with in this recipe. Play with the proportions to your taste, but, as usual, I recommend that you don’t stint on the vermouth.

Rosie Schaap · NYT Cooking

This flavorsome — and relatively fast — recipe comes from Los Angeles-based bartender Gabriella Mlynarczyk. Pickled onions are the classic garnish for the Gibson cocktail, but if you love these briny, crunchy, little alliums as much as I do, you might find yourself tossing them into your gin and tonics and vodka and sodas, too (and adding them to cornichons and mustard as accoutrements for pâté). Rosie Schaap