El Presidente

The El Presidente is a surprising drink. It might look something like a dry Martini, but one sip and you'll see that it has more in common with a Daiquiri or Mai Tai. It's rum-based, sweet, and citrusy, a spirit-forward Caribbean cocktail that's probably quite different from anything you've had.

If you've never heard of the El Presidente, don't feel bad. It's a cocktail that was set up for failure. Dating back to Cuba in the 1910's, it enjoyed incredible popularity for a while. But post-prohibition, that popularity plummeted. And that's probably has a lot to do with its ingredients.

First, there's rum, which was not a popular base spirit in the post-prohibition 20th century (outside of Tiki bars, at least). Then there's vermouth, which a lot of people didn't know how to store properly, leading to requests for ultra-dry martinis. Not to mention that most bartenders were using the wrong vermouth in this cocktail, as you'll see below. And then there's grenadine and orange curaçao. Used in their proper amounts, they round the El Presidente out beautifully. But if you do a Google image search for "El Presidente cocktail," the drinks you see will not look like the one I made - they are all either bright red or vivid orange, victims of the temptation to just pour in more sugar to salvage a sub-par drink.

Luckily for the El Presidente, rum is back in vogue, and so are the old classics. The recipe has been resurrected in its original glory, and it's definitely one worth making.

History:  Like the legendary Daiquiri, the El Presidente hails from Havana, Cuba. Some accounts indicate that the El Presidente's exact origins are uncertain, while others (like this thorough overview at Tasting Table) are pretty confident about their facts. According to them, it was invented sometime in the 1910's and named after Mario García Menocal, the president of Cuba at the time. In 1919, an American bartender named Eddie Woelke moved to Havana to run the bar at the Sevilla Biltmore Hotel. He took an interest in the recipe, tweaking it a bit and popularizing it from his bar.

Apparently Menocal's successor, Gerardo Machado, was quite jealous of Menocal's signature cocktail and asked for his own. A few dashes of orange curaçao were added to the El Presidente, and the Presidente Machado was created. In the 1930's, Cuban bartender Constante Ribalaigua Vert combined the two presidential recipes at the famous El Florida in Havana, using curaçao but dyeing it red to look like grenadine. Today you see recipes called El Presidente with one or the other, or both.

Once Prohibition was lifted, the El Presidente made its way to the States, but something was lost in translation. The recipe called for French vermouth, which usually means dry vermouth. But when bartenders made the cocktail this way, it was decidedly lackluster (probably leading to those heavy pours of orange curaçao and grenadine). After some digging, cocktail historian David Wondrich discovered that the vermouth used in the original recipe came from Chambéry in France, which is historically famous for making blanc vermouth - a sweeter, richer white vermouth. This discovery, along with a resurgence of interest in classic cocktails and ingredients, has allowed the El Presidente to gain the popularity it has always deserved.

El Presidente

1 1/2 oz. white rum (Bully Boy)
1 1/2 oz. blanc vermouth (Dolin)
1 tsp. orange curaçao (Ferrand)
1/2 tsp. grenadine (Stirrings)

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass with ice and stir until chilled. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass and garnish with an orange twist.

Recipe adapted from Imbibe.

Dunhill

I usually don't like to drink the same thing every night, preferring to try out new recipes whenever I can. But sometimes I get on little kicks where I'm only craving one specific cocktail. And lately it's been Martinis with Castelvetrano olives. If you like a Martini with an olive garnish, you have to try these - they're bright green, crisp, and perfectly oily. Way better than the usual pimento-stuffed green olives. You can find them in a jar at most supermarkets, although my favorites are the ones from my grocery store olive bar, which tend to be crisper. In a recipe where the garnish has a huge influence on overall flavor, they're a serious upgrade.

My love for these olives got me wondering what other drinks are out there that use an olive garnish. It's not something you see too often. It seems like as soon as you start introducing much sweetness into a cocktail an olive would no longer work. But I promptly found a cocktail that completely refuted that assumption: the Dunhill. It's sort of a cross between a Martini and a Negroni. As it's made with gin, sherry, and dry vermouth, its olive garnish didn't seem too off-base, but it also contains a bit of orange curaçao and an absinthe wash. Absinthe and olives sounded a bit crazy to me. Just crazy enough to work, maybe?

Indeed it is. Somehow the hint of anise isn't the least bit out of place, and the sweetish but oily Lustau East India Solera sherry is an unexpected but perfect pairing for olives. The result is, as Chad Parkhill writes in an article on under-appreciated cocktails, "a wonderful paradox of a drink: one that manages to be simultaneously sweet and savory, rich and lean, nutty and herbaceous." This description is dead on. The Dunhill is a drink unlike any other I've had - in a good way.

History: The Dunhill first appears as the Dunhill's Special in the 1925 book Drinks - Long and Short by Nina Toye and A. H. Adair. This is the first time I've encountered this book. It contains recipes for cocktails served by Adair at Hatchett's Bar in Leicester Square in London. The Dunhill's Special was later included in classic cocktail recipe books like The World's Drinks and How to Mix Them and The Savoy Cocktail Book. I'm not sure when the drink became simply the Dunhill. It's certainly special in my book.

Dunhill

1 oz. gin (I used Conniption Navy Strength)
1 oz. Lustau East India Solera Sherry
1 oz. dry vermouth
1/4 oz. dry curaçao
Absinthe rinse (I used Herbsaint)

Combine gin, sherry, vermouth, and curaçao in a mixing glass with ice and stir until chilled. Rinse a rocks glass with absinthe and add one large ice cube. Strain the drink into the prepared glass and garnish with olives or a lemon twist.

Recipe adapted from Punch.

Bitter Mai Tai

I've got another Tiki cocktail today! The Bitter Mai Tai is a twist on a very traditional Tiki beverage, the classic Mai Tai. This version replaces a good bit of the rum with bitter, citrusy Campari for an entirely different experience. Given the name, I was surprised when I took a sip and immediately thought it tasted exactly like Hawaiian Punch - sweet and fruity. The bitterness hits you a fraction of a second after that first taste. From its bright red hue to its intense flavor, this is a great cocktail for when you really want to make an impact.

History: This recipe comes from Jeremy Oertel of Dram in Brooklyn. He based the recipe on another Mai Tai variation that used Angostura bitters instead of rum (which I think I've got to try).

Bitter Mai Tai

1 1/2 oz. Campari
3/4 oz. Jamaican rum (substitute any aged rum)
1/2 oz. orange Curacao
1 oz. lime juice
3/4 oz. orgeat

Combine all ingredients in a shaker with ice and shake until chilled. Strain into a rocks glass filled with crushed ice. Heap more crushed ice on top. Garnish with a sprig of mint.

Recipe from Imbibe.

Brandy Crusta

This is another recipe from Vintage Cocktails that just looked so good based on the photo and ingredients that I had to make it. It's only the second Cognac cocktail I've tried, the first being the Sidecar. I really liked that one, and the Brandy Crusta is actually its close ancestor. While the Sidecar has a simple three ingredients (brandy, Cointreau, lemon juice), the Brandy Crusta gets a bit more complex, with orange curacao, maraschino liqueur, and bitters, plus an incredibly elaborate garnish. And it's a really excellent cocktail. It's more sour than sweet on its own, but with the sugared rim it's perfect - probably one of the few times I've seen a sugared rim actually used to good effect in a cocktail. Oh, and it is strong. A couple of these and you'll be done for the night.

So what's the deal with that garnish? The Brandy Crusta is famously garnished with nearly an entire lemon peel lining the glass or sitting just inside the rim. I couldn't resist attempting to replicate the perfectly coiled peel from the picture in the book, but it was quite an enterprise. It kept falling into the cocktail. I ended up getting out a pair of tweezers to try and pull it properly into place. In the end there was a big gap between the peel and the liquid, but it will just have to do. I think as long as you get a nice big lemon peel in there, you'll get the right taste; as for the look, I'm afraid I've got very little advice.

History: The Brandy Crusta was invented in New Orleans in 1852 by bartender Joseph Santini. Some accounts say he invented it at the Jewel of the South bar, and others say the City Exchange, a large restaurant, bar, hotel, and auction house (not to be confused with the Merchant's Exchange that featured so prominently in the history of the Sazerac, though they were similar establishments). Santini worked at both; the Jewel was a smaller establishment that he owned, but he was put in charge of the bar at the ritzy City Exchange as well. Some accounts put the Exchange on Gravier Street, but this is incorrect; the City Exchange took up the entire square block between Royal, Chartes, Toulouse, and St. Louis Streets. Already in disrepair, it was mostly destroyed by the 1915 hurricane. Today the Omni Royal Orleans sits on the site. There is less information on the Jewel of the South, but I assume this is the bar that was on Gravier.

Jerry Thomas spent some time in New Orleans in the 1850's and must have come across Santini and his signature cocktail. He included the Brandy Crusta in his 1862 Bon Vivant's Companion and popularized it to a wider audience. The maraschino liqueur is a newer addition to the drink and is not in Thomas' recipe, but it's a nice touch.

Brandy Crusta

1 1/2 oz. Cognac
1/4 oz. Orange Curacao
1/4 oz. Maraschino liqueur
1/4 oz. lemon juice
1 dash Angostura bitters

Combine all ingredients in a shaker. Add ice and shake until chilled. Rub a slice of lemon around the exterior of a cocktail glass and coat with sugar. Strain cocktail into glass and garnish with one long, curling lemon peel.

Recipe from Vintage Cocktails.

Mai Tai

There are a few ingredients that pop up frequently enough in different cocktail recipes that they sound familiar, but not frequently enough that I even know what they are. Orgeat syrup is one such ingredient. But when I saw it at a liquor store for less than $20, I decided to try it out. I love when a small investment can greatly increase your cocktail repertoire.

As it turns out, orgeat syrup is made from almonds, sugar, and rose water or orange flower water. It is very sweet and a little almondy, which I absolutely love. There are several different brands out there; I bought this bottle by Fee Brothers.

The most well-known cocktail containing orgeat is the Mai Tai. Like many fruity, rum-based cocktails, this drink has been corrupted by many touristy bars into something that barely resembles the original recipe. The only fruit juice in a real Mai Tai is lime. The rest of its fruity flavor comes from orange curacao, and orgeat gives it its sweetness. It's quite simply delicious. Still tropical enough to be fit for the beach, but not so ridiculously tiki-themed that you don't feel like you can mix one up at home.

History: The Mai Tai falls under the category of "tiki drinks," fruity, usually rum-based cocktails that became popular in the 50's when Polynesian-themed tiki bars and restaurants were all the rage. The two fathers of tiki cocktails are Vic Bergeron ("Trader Vic") and Don the Beachcomber, who ran competing restaurants in Hollywood. Both take credit for the invention of the Mai Tai, but Vic's claim seems most valid. His 1947 bartender's guide tells the story of how it got its name: he served the first one to a Tahitian friend who exclaimed, "Maita'i roa ai!" ("Very good!").

You want to use an aged rum in this cocktail. In fact, Trader Vic was spurred to create it to complement a particularly flavorful bottle of 17-year-old Jamaican rum.

Mai Tai

2 oz. aged rum
3/4 oz. orange curacao
3/4 oz. lime juice
1/2 oz. orgeat syrup

Combine all ingredients in a shaker over ice. Shake until chilled. Strain into a rocks glass filled with ice. Garnish with a mint leaf and a slice of lime (or edible orchids if you're lucky enough to have them).

Recipe from Vintage Cocktails.

Pegu Club

When a friend gifted me a copy of the beautiful book Vintage Cocktails, the Pegu Club was one of the first recipes I earmarked to try, even though I was missing a critical ingredient, Orange Curacao. As I worked my way through the simpler cocktails, I waffled on whether to spring for a bottle. I have to admit, when I finally came across Pierre Ferrand Dry Curacao ($30), its nostalgic label and interesting shape were part of what sold me on it. And it turned out to be a surprisingly versatile purchase for my bar. Not only is it specifically called for in a number of classic cocktails, it can also be used as a less-sweet substitute for other orange liqueurs.

The Pegu Club is a lovely, slightly tropical combination of gin, orange curacao, lime juice, and two types of bitters. Its orange color makes you think it will be sweet, but it's much more tart and bitter than you might expect. In that way, it's a nice departure from other cocktails associated with tropical locales.

History: Though you may hear the name and think of the New York cocktail bar, the original Pegu Club was actually in Burma, now Myanmar, in southeast Asia. Located just outside of the capital city of Rangoon (now Yangon), it was a gentleman's club similar to countless others throughout the British Empire where foreigners could go to socialize in the manner to which they were accustomed without the inconvenience of running into any natives. It was probably named for the Pegu River (now the Bago River), which runs through the city. The club opened in 1882, and though the cocktail's exact origin is unknown, it was popular enough in 1927 to appear in Harry Craddock's Barflies and Cocktails.

Pegu Club

2 oz. gin

1 oz. orange curacao

3/4 oz. lime juice

1 dash Angostura bitters

1 dash orange bitters

Combine ingredients in a shaker. Add ice and shake until chilled. Strain into a coupe glass and garnish with a lime twist or slice of lime. Sip your cocktail and appreciate the fact that you now know what the capital of Myanmar is.

Recipe from Vintage Cocktails.