Cocktail History, Culture & Recipes

The Jungle Bird Light is a modern evolution of a beloved tiki-era classic—sleeker, brighter, and designed for today’s drinkers who crave tropical flavor without the heavy sweetness or dense structure of a traditional tiki build. It keeps the Jungle Bird’s unmistakable identity—pineapple, bitter red aperitivo, dark rum depth—but reimagines it through a lighter, cleaner, more sessionable lens. Instead of leaning into the full richness of the original 1970s Kuala Lumpur formula

Some cocktails swagger. Others brood. The Hemingway Royale does both—lifting the sharp, signature tartness of the Hemingway Daiquiri into sparkling, celebratory territory. It’s a drink that marries literary lore with barroom craft: the crisp bite of lime, the grapefruit snap Hemingway adored, the soft sweetness of maraschino, and the luxurious lift of champagne or sparkling wine. The result is elegant, effervescent, and cinematic—a cocktail that feels like the clinking of gl

There are cocktails that rule the night, and then there are cocktails that rule the season. The Blood Orange Negroni is both—a winter jewel and a year-round Negroni variation that radiates color, citrus perfume, and vivid Italian energy. Imagine the classic Negroni—the equal-parts trinity of gin, bitter aperitivo, and sweet vermouth—now refracted through the ruby-red lens of blood orange. What emerges is richer, deeper, more aromatic. It’s still unmistakably a Negroni, but w

Some cocktails are bold. Some are flamboyant. And then there are cocktails like the Adonis —understated, refined, and quietly luminous, like a golden-hour glow across a well-set table. Named after a Broadway musical and built from sherry and sweet vermouth, the Adonis is one of the earliest low-alcohol aperitif cocktails in the classic canon. Its flavor whispers rather than shouts: candied orange, walnut skin, dried flowers, and gentle herbal warmth. A soft bitterness arrives

Long before the Martini defined aperitif culture and decades before the Dry Sherry movement found new footing in the craft era, there was the Bamboo —a delicate, whisper-light stirred cocktail born during the golden age of grand hotels, transoceanic travel, and cosmopolitan drinking. It is a drink of restraint, elegance, and subtlety, built not from base spirits but from aromatized wine and fortified wine: dry vermouth and sherry. A well-made Bamboo doesn’t shout. It glides.

Some cocktails are born iconic. Others evolve into icons. The Paper Plane belongs to both stories—and the split-base Paper Plane represents its next evolutionary leap. The original Paper Plane, created in 2007, is a study in precision—four ingredients in perfect equilibrium, a modern equal-parts sour that brought amaro into the global spotlight. But in the last decade, advanced cocktail bars have begun exploring the drink’s deeper potential by adjusting its structure. And th

Some cocktails are born from heritage, others from necessity—and then there are those born from pure, joyful indulgence. The Watermelon Sugar belongs in that final category: a modern, sun-kissed creation that tastes like summer, feels like a breeze off the coast, and carries a name that seems to smile at you from the menu. But don’t let the easygoing attitude fool you. Behind the Watermelon Sugar’s bright color and fruit-forward flavor lies a fascinating evolution of seasona

There are cocktails that feel like they belong to a season, a city, a moment in time. The Gin Basil Smash is one of them—a bright green burst of herbaceousness that tastes like summer distilled. Its aroma rises before the glass reaches your lips: fresh basil, citrus zest, and London dry gin weaving together in a drink that feels both effortlessly modern and unmistakably classic. Born not in London or New York but in Hamburg , the Gin Basil Smash was a rare lightning-strike m

There’s a moment in every great cocktail’s life when it moves from something you order to something you remember . The Tommy’s Paloma is exactly that kind of drink—a sun-soaked reinvention of Mexico’s most beloved highball, built on fresh citrus, clean agave character, and a modern ethos of honest, unfussy ingredients. Born from the same lineage that redefined the Margarita for an entire generation, the Tommy’s Paloma bridges heritage and innovation, giving new life to a drin

A knife glints under the sun in a small roadside cantina in Tequila, Jalisco. A bartender—older, calm, practiced—cuts a fresh lime with a long, worn knife. The same knife goes into the glass, stirring tequila, lime juice, salt, and cola together with a slow, deliberate motion. The drink fizzes, darkens, brightens—simple, rustic, perfect. This is the Batanga —a tequila-and-cola highball elevated by lime, salt, and one essential piece of folklore: the drink must be stirred with

Clay cups cool under the Jalisco sun, their porous sides sweating as citrus juice and tequila mingle with a splash of grapefruit soda. A bartender squeezes oranges, limes, and lemons directly into the vessel, adds tequila blanco, then tops it with ice and a fizzy burst of Squirt or Jarritos Toronja. A pinch of salt, a stir with a long spoon, and the drink becomes what it has always been: refreshing, earthy, communal. This is the Cantarito —a traditional Mexican highball roote

A handful of fresh basil hits the bottom of a shaker and releases an explosion of aroma—peppery, green, sun-warmed, unmistakably alive. Lemon juice brightens the air. Gin cascades over the herbs, dissolving oils into liquid. Ice rattles. When strained, the drink glows a vibrant herbal green, light catching tiny specks of basil. It smells like a garden after rain. This is the Basil Smash —a modern classic that emerged not from Prohibition-era lore or tiki exotica, but from the

Passionfruit seeds glisten under bar lights as a bartender scoops out their bright, fragrant pulp. Vanilla vodka flows into the tin. A splash of passionfruit liqueur joins it. Lime juice snaps through the sweetness. Ice rattles, tin chills, and the drink pours out creamy gold—with half a passionfruit bobbing like a jewel. On the side, a chilled shot of Prosecco waits, sparkling and inviting. This is the Pornstar Martini —a contemporary cocktail phenomenon that reshaped the la

The lights glow low in a late-night lounge. A bartender reaches for a bottle of vodka, pours a splash of Chambord—a deep garnet cascade of black raspberry liqueur—and then adds pineapple juice that foams as it hits the tin. The shaker snaps together. Ice rattles. A pale, silky, rose-gold cocktail emerges, capped with pineapple mousse and perfumed with raspberry. Elegant. Flirtatious. Unmistakably modern. This is the French Martini —a drink that helped usher in the “new martin

Honey drips slowly from a spoon, catching warm light as it falls into a tin. A bartender slices a fresh chili—its seeds sharp with heat—then gently shakes gin, lemon, honey, and spice into a shimmering elixir. The drink is golden, inviting, and aromatic. But the moment it hits your palate, you understand the name: sweet… then suddenly, a sting. This is the Bee Sting —a modern spicy riff on the Bee’s Knees that marries the softness of honey with the fiery bite of chili. It’s a

The bar lights glow gold against polished brass. Pineapple slices glisten under a thin veil of chilled condensation. A bartender reaches for golden rum, Galliano, pineapple, lime, and a bottle of sparkling wine resting delicately on ice. He shakes, strains, and then finishes the drink with a crisp pour of bubbles. The aroma rises: tropical fruit, vanilla, anise, and the ocean-warm breeze of Caribbean rum. This is the Barracuda —a cocktail with European roots, Caribbean soul,

A cutting board glistens with beads of lime juice. A bartender crushes lime wedges with crystalline sugar, releasing the oils in a bright green burst. Instead of cachaça, he reaches for vodka—a clean, neutral base that lets citrus take the spotlight. Ice cubes tumble into a chilled glass, the mixture stirred until frosty and fragrant. This is the Caipiroska —a cocktail that feels both familiar and refreshingly modern. It’s the vodka-based cousin of Brazil’s national drink, th

A cold martini glass frosts under the bar light. The bartender drops in a few crisp green apple slices, reaches for a shaker, and adds vodka, apple liqueur, and a splash of fresh citrus. Ice rattles with sharp clarity. When the drink is strained, it pours like liquid jade—bright, glossy, and unapologetically modern. A scent rises: tart apple, citrus, clean vodka chill. This is the Apple Martini —also known affectionately (and sometimes infamously) as the Appletini . A drink b

A silver shaker glints under the warm glow of a mahogany bar. Raspberries are pressed into a vivid crimson purée. Gin trickles in, followed by vermouth, lemon, and a snowy stream of egg white. The bartender shakes once without ice—hard—then again with ice, listening for the signature snap of the tin. When the drink is poured, it emerges as a pale-pink cloud crowned with a velvety foam. Elegant. Historic. Sublime. This is the Clover Club , one of America’s earliest and most r

Gas lamps flicker along a cobblestone street. Inside a genteel late-19th-century saloon, a bartender reaches for rye whiskey, a bottle of maraschino liqueur, a vial of absinthe, and a jar of rich gum syrup. He works with the precision of a pharmacist: a dash here, a rinse there. The drink he builds is familiar—whiskey, bitters, sweetener—but elevated with exotic European liqueurs. The aroma rises: spice, cherry, anise, oak. This is the Improved Whiskey Cocktail —a foundationa