aviator

1/2 Laird's Applejack (1 oz Laird's Bonded)
1/2 Jamaican Rum (1/2 oz Smith & Cross + 1/2 oz Plantation Xaymaca)
1/2 Lime, Juice and Spent Shell (1/2 oz + shell)
1 tsp Grenadine (1/2 oz)

Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass.

One of the other recipes in the 1934 Laird's Applejack book on EUVS was the Aviator attributed to Marco Hatten of the Colony Restaurant in Manhattan. This specialty of the house was essentially a Jack Rose with the apple brandy base split with Jamaican rum. What was curious was that it included the spent lime shell in the shake akin to Hugo Ensslin's Jack Rose recipe from 1916, and this technique has appeared as early as Jerry Thomas' White Lion in 1862 and in my repertoire in the Fluffy Ruffles circa 2008 to donate lime oil brightness and bitterness.
The Aviator flew to the nose with rum funk, caramel, and lime oil brightness. Next, caramel, berry, and lime notes mingled on the sip, and the swallow landed with apple, funky rum, and pomegranate flavors that finished with lime oil bitterness.

sancti spiritus

1 oz Scarlet Ibis (Privateer Navy Yard)
3/4 oz Cardamaro
3/4 oz Cocchi Americano
1 bsp Rothman & Winter Orchard Pear (1/4 oz)

Stir with ice, strain into a cocktail glass, and garnish with a lemon twist.
Two Mondays ago, I uncovered an old Haus Alpenz recipe sheet and latched on to the Sancti Spiritus. I had previously skipped over this recipe by Kellie Thorn at the Empire State South in Atlanta for Cardamaro was a rather recent addition to my liquor shelves. I was able to match all of the ingredients save for the rum, but I figured that Privateer's Navy Yard would be a solid substitute for the Trinidadian rum commissioned for Death & Co. In the glass, the Sancti Spiritus gave forth a lemon and fruity nose that was almost peach-like. Next, caramel, grape, grapefruit, and pear notes on the sip slid into rum, bitter herbal, and pear flavors on the swallow.

jim lee cocktail

50% Dry Gin (1 1/2 oz Beefeater)
25% Regular Vermouth (3/4 oz Cocchi Sweet)
25% Dry Vermouth (3/4 oz Miro Dry)
2 dash Angostura Bitters
2 dash Peychaud's Bitters

Stir with ice and strain into a cocktail glass; I added a lemon twist garnish.
Two Sundays ago, I began flipping through my 1933 reprint of Jack's Manual, and I spotted the Jim Lee Cocktail. I was able to trace this Perfect Martini with two types of aromatic bitters back to Jack Straub's 1914 Drinks. While nothing truly groundbreaking as a Martini variation, it was one that I was completely unfamiliar with. Once prepared, the Jim Lee Cocktail met the nose with a lemon, grape, and orange bouquet. Next, the vermouth's grape dominated the sip, and the swallow shared pine, grape, cherry, and clove flavors.

corn'n'oil

1/2 Cognac (2 oz Courvoisier VS)
1/2 Falernum (1 oz Velvet)
1 dash Angostura Bitters (2 dash)

Build in a rocks glass, add crushed (cracked) ice, and stir; I added a lime twist.

Back in October, the Boston chapter of the United States Bartender Guild hosted rum distiller Richard Seale at Shore Leave for "A Conversation About Rum." During the talk, Seale discussed the history of falernum, and he was able to trace it back to a bill of goods of import from 1821 which suggested that it had been around since the 1700s of before on Barbados. Seale declared that falernum was very misunderstood: it was made on a sugar (rum) estate as the every day drink of the planter and not in homes as a folk cordial. All of the distillers had their own recipes including Doorly, Seale, and Taylor, and it was a simple combination of sugar, rum, and lime juice and not a mix of a dozen plus ingredient. Moreover, the alcoholic strength has always been low but high enough to preserve the combination. Spicing probably came into being later as a way to differentiate brands perhaps once the production shifted from plantation production to commercial bottling. While falernum was picked up in the 1930s by Tiki legends like Trader Vic and Donn Beach in drinks ranging from the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club to the Zombie, one of the earliest uses was the Corn'n'Oil. The name derives from Deuteronomy 11:13-15:

13 And it shall come to pass, if ye shall hearken diligently unto my commandments which I command you this day, to love the LORD your God, and to serve him with all your heart and with all your soul,
14 That I will give you the rain of your land in his due season, the first rain and the latter rain, that thou mayest gather in thy corn, and thy wine, and thine oil.
15 And I will send grass in thy fields for thy cattle, that thou mayest eat and be full.

While most people will associate that recipe with rum (and the newer versions with black strap rum which would not be traditional found on Barbados), falernum, Angostura Bitters, and sometimes lime juice, Seale mentioned that earlier recipes were different. Seale's dad's Corn'n'Oil was half brandy, half falernum, and a dash of Angostura served over crushed ice, and brandy only got replaced by rum after World War I. As evidence, Seale put up the recipe found in the 1911 West Indian & Other Recipes compiled by Mrs. H. Graham Yearwood which mirrored Seale's father's preference. When I posted this recipe on Instagram, people questioned how this could be. I brought up the concept of how the Mint Julep was a Cognac drink before it became an American whiskey drink. I explained, "French brandy was what you drank when you were well off, and it gets recorded because those people write the history books as well. Early rum and American whiskey were looked upon as bulk commodity spirits for the common people and not for the cocktail class."
I ended up adapting the recipe slightly to dry it out a bit by shaping it to my preferred Manhattan spec of 2:1:2 (see the recipe above). Once prepared, the Cognac shined through to the nose along with aromatic notes from the lime twist garnish that I added. Next, the falernum's lime notes sang out on the sip, and the swallow proffered brandy, ginger, and clove flavors. Overall, it was an interesting change from the rum recipe, but I do miss the small amount of fresh citrus juice included in many modern recipes (the one I linked to had a quarter ounce of lime) for brightness' sake.

beachcomber

2 oz Light Puerto Rican Rum (Flor de Caña Añejo Oro)
1/2 oz Cointreau
2 dash Maraschinio (1/8 oz)
Juice 1/2 Lime (1/2 oz)

Blend with shaved ice (2 1/2 oz cracked ice cubes) and pour into a chilled champagne glass (cocktail coupe).
Two Fridays ago, I reached for Trader Vic's 1974 Rum Cookery & Drinkery book and spotted the Daiquiri riff called the Beachcomber. I believe that I skipped over this Rum Sidecar with a touch of Maraschino before since it did not seem like an exciting shaken drink; however, with our new blender, I was game to try it as a frozen one. Moreover, Andrea was into the idea enough to ask for her own. Here, the Beachcomber met the nose with an orange and bright lime bouquet. Next, the orange ventured into the sip, and the swallow showcased rum and lime flavors with a hint of nutty cherry on the finish.

zombie at park south

3/4 oz Don Q Añejo Rum (Flor de Caña Añejo Oro)
3/4 oz Appleton VX Rum (Plantation Xaymaca)
1/2 oz Plantation OFTD Rum
3/4 oz Grapefruit Juice
1/2 oz Lime Juice
1/2 oz Cinnamon Syrup
1/4 oz Passion Fruit Syrup
1/4 oz Grenadine
1 dash Angostura Bitters
1 dash Herbsaint (20 drop)

Whip shake with crushed ice, pour into a tall glass (Tiki mug), fill with crushed ice, and garnish lavishly with fruit (mint sprigs).
Two Thursdays ago, I was in the mood for a Tiki drink and I recalled that I had spotted a Zombie riff by Rafa Garcia Febles on Kindred Cocktails earlier in the week. That dink was created for Manhattan's the Roof at Park South's 2018 season, and it was Rafa's blending of the 1934 and the 1950 Zombie recipes. The Zombie at Park South conjured up mint aromas over caramel, passion fruit, and cinnamon notes. Next, the caramel continued on into the sip where it mingled with the grapefruit, and the swallow came through with complex rum, passion fruit, and cinnamon flavors and an anise-spice finish.

rio bravo

1 1/4 oz Whiskey (Rittenhouse Rye)
3/4 oz Aged Rum (Plantation Xaymaca)
1 oz Amaro (1/2 oz Cynar + 1/2 oz Averna)
1/4 oz Banana Liqueur (Giffard)
2 dash Mole Bitters (Bittermens)

Stir with ice, strain into a double old fashioned glass with ice, and garnish with an orange twist.
Two Wednesdays ago, I ventured back to Doug Winship's Quarantinis book and selected the Rio Bravo by Columbus, Ohio's Travis Owens. The recipe was vague as to the identity of the whiskey and amaro, so I selected a bonded rye and a duo that I loved to serve as a digestif at Loyal Nine: equal parts Averna and Cynar, respectively. Moreover, the split amari concept worked well in my mind with the split spirit base of whiskey and rum. Once prepared, the Rio Bravo donated an orange, caramel, and herbal aroma to the nose. Next, the caramel continued on into the sip, and the swallow proffered rye, rum, and funky banana flavors with a chocolate-herbal finish.

monseigneur special

6/10 Daiquiri Rum (2 oz Flor de Caña Añejo Oro)
2/10 Apricot Brandy (1/2 oz Rothman & Winter)
1/10 Grenadine (1/4 oz)
1/10 Lemon Juice (3/4 oz)

Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass; I added a lemon twist.

Two Tuesdays ago, I returned to the 1937 Café Royal Cocktail Book and spotted the Monseigneur Special created by UK Bartender Guild member T. O'Connor. While the name and apricot brandy reminded on of my Instagram friends of the Hotel Nacional Special, I found it more similar to the Cuban Cocktail #6 and the gin-based Bermudian (Mr. Boston renamed that to be the Boston Cocktail). Indeed, there is something about the combination of apricot and grenadine that becomes a new flavor.
The Monseigneur Special bowed the nose with a lemon and apricot aroma. Next, lemon and orchard fruit notes on the sip slid into rum, berry, and nectarine elements on the swallow. Overall, the combination was much more rounded of a flavor than the Periodista which shares a similar drink structure.

song to the siren

1 3/4 oz Jamaican Rum (1 oz Appleton Signature + 3/4 oz Stolen Overproof)
1/4 oz Cruzan Black Strap Rum
1 oz Port (Sandeman Tawny)
3/4 oz Lime Juice
1/2 oz Kronan Swedish Punsch
1/2 oz Cinnamon Syrup
2 dash Bitters (Angostura)

Shake with ice, strain into a double old fashioned glass with ice, and garnish with freshly grated nutmeg.
Two Mondays ago, I spotted a 2014 creation by New York City bartender Rafa Garcia Febles on Kindred Cocktails called the Song to the Siren; Rafa later mentioned to me that this is a tribute to the Tim Buckley song. The combination of Jamaican rum, port, and Swedish punsch sounded like it would make for a delightful tipple with a nautical feel, and it shared some similarity with his Papa Hogo that I enjoyed a few years ago. Once prepared, the Song to the Siren welcomed the senses with caramel, funk, and woody spice aromas. Next, lime mingling with grape on the sip called out for dark and funky rum, tea, and cinnamon flavors on the swallow.