As we discussed earlier, the Old Fashioned goes back to the earliest days of the cocktail, and is actually the first definition of what a “cocktail” was — spirits, water, sugar and bitters.

You can make an Old Fashioned out of any base spirit, and it works really well with almost anything. It works especially well with aged tequila.

The Añejo Old Fashioned is very popular among Los Angeles bartenders, and elsewhere as well. Everyone puts their own spin on it — when Robert Hess first mentioned it in his video episode about the Old Fashioned he thought first of lemon bitters, then grapefruit bitters. The bartenders I see most often like classic Angostura, but I like a little of both.

While agave nectar seems to be the sweetener of choice, I also like to make it with piloncillo syrup. Piloncillo is the hard Mexican brown sugar, heavy on the molasses, that comes in rock-hard cones. To make a syrup from it shave it on a heavy grater so it’ll dissolve more easily, and do a 1:1 simple syrup with it.

Our favored añejo tequila these days is Partida, then El Charro, but use your favorite. Oh, and in case you can’t tell, I like ’em big.

Añejo Old Fashioned

3 ounces añejo tequila.
1/4 ounce piloncillo syrup or agave nectar.
2 dashes Angostura bitters.
1 dash Bittermens Grapefruit Bitters.
Orange or grapefruit peel.

Combine in a double Old Fashioned glass, add ice and stir for 20 seconds. Garnish with a large swath of orange or grapefruit peel.

This is a classic breakfast or brunch cocktail, beloved of generations of New Orleanians. It’s also quite fine late at night — I still like mine ice cold, but on a cold night you could even gently heat it.

The historic version is a Brandy Milk Punch, but lots of people like a Bourbon Milk Punch as well. Dr. Cocktail suggests a mix of brandy and rum, about an ounce of the former and 1/2 ounce of the latter. Whichever version you make, it’s easy to make and quite a crowd-pleaser. You should also be able to order this at any of the good Creole restaurants and bars in New Orleans, and it’s not difficult to talk someone through just about anywhere.

If you want to make it a bit richer, use half-and-half instead of whole milk. Never use 2% or, gods forbid, skim milk.

I like mine a little less sweet — you can certainly add more simple syrup if you like. Here’s the way I like ’em.

Milk Punch

1-1/2 ounces brandy or Bourbon, or 1 ounce brandy and 1/2 ounce dark rum.
2 teaspoons simple syrup.
2 dashes vanilla extract.
4 ounces milk or half-and-half.
Nutmeg.

Combine with ice and shake vigorously — this drink is nice when it’s frothy. Strain into a chilled wine glass and serve up, or into chilled Old Fashioned glass filled with crushed ice. Garnish with a grating of nutmeg.

Here’s master New Orleans bartender Chris McMillian making one, although he likes his considerably sweeter than I do.

I was browsing through the eGullet Spirits and Cocktails forum yesterday, reading about vermouth, and stumbled across this one. It sounded vaguely familiar but I knew I had never tried it before, so it was a natural candidate for our evening’s cocktail. Unfortunately I was the only one who had one, though; Wes was feeling a bit off after trying a neighborhood hot dog stand advertising “Chile Dogs.” Let’s just say it was no Hot Doug’s, that the frank was good and the bun was fine but rather than “chile” it was an endlessly greasy industrial-grade commercial chili that did a bit of a number on him. He was craving a soothing digestivo (although it wasn’t quite into straight-shot-of-Branca territory), so the glass of Amaro Nonino I poured for him seemed to do nicely.

As for me, I got out the Rittenhouse rye and got to work on this drink, which was invented by bartender Enzo Errico of Milk & Honey in New York. You’ve undoubtedly heard me talk about Carpano’s Punt E Mes before, but in case you haven’t — it’s considered to be a sweet vermouth but is quite unlike the garden-variety sweet vermouths you find, in that it has a delightfully bitter characteristic to it, sort of halfway between sweet vermouth and Campari (maybe at or a little less than Aperol level) which, if substituted for regular sweet vermouth, lends considerable oomph to a drink.

I first thought of this as a wonderful Manhattan variation — we do make Manhattans with Punt E Mes sometimes — but further Googling led me to a piece Paul Clarke had written on this drink a couple of years ago. According to one of the commenters, Enzo’s inspiration for this drink came not from the Manhattan (rye, sweet vermouth, bitters) but from another favorite of ours, the Brooklyn (rye, sweet vermouth, Amer Picon and maraschino), with the Punt E Mes standing in for the sweet vermouth/Picon combination. Fascinating! I wonder what this drink would taste like with a dash of orange bitters tossed in. Before I start futzing with it, though, I made one as Enzo intended …

The Red Hook Cocktail
(by Enzo Errico, Milk & Honey, New York City)

2 ounces rye whiskey.
1/2 ounce Carpano Punt E Mes.
1/2 ounce maraschino liqueur.

Combine with ice in a mixing glass and stir for at least 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. No garnish is specified but I added two homemade brandied cherries.

It’s mighty, mighty good. It’s one of those combinations that seem so natural, even obvious, that you want to smack yourself on the forehead and say, “Jeez, why didn’t I think of this?!” (You didn’t think of it because you’re a big doof and Enzo is made of awesome, that’s why.) This one definitely goes on the fall cocktail menu. Yes, we have a menu on our bar at home for guests, which we change seasonally. What a coupla geeks.

This Manhattan variation comes from bartender Marco Dionysos, formerly of the Starlite Room in San Francisco. The sweet vermouth is replaced by one of the gentler yet still complex Italian amaros.

Uptown Manhattan
(created by Marco Dionysos)

2 ounces Bourbon.
1/2 ounce Amaro Nonino.
2 dashes orange bitters.
1 barspoon cherry brandy from jar of brandied cherries.
Orange peel.
Brandied cherry.

Combine first four ingredients in a mixing glass with ice and stir for 30 seconds. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Flame the orange peel over the surface of the drink and discard. Garnish with the cherry.

This works well with rye, too.

The brandied cherries we use are La Parisienne, and they’re wonderful. We get a 1 kilogram jar that lasts us for ages, and it’s easily mail-ordered from Marky’s.

Chris McMillian, our master bartender at the Library Lounge in New Orleans, takes me (and us) on a trip to my childhood again. This was another of my dad’s favorites, along with the Old Fashioned and the drink that was probably most oft-consumed at family gatherings, the “Highball” (which in my family was always Seagram’s V.O. and 7-Up). This one, which went down smoother than the powerful Old Fashioned, was the one I was allowed to have a tiny sip of most often.

I hesitate to ever order one of these out, because most of the time you’ll get crap sour mix in it. If you go to fresh juice bar (which all bars will be before long if we do our jobs right), give one of these a try. I suspect it’s possible you’ve never had one made properly, or at the very least you haven’t had one in a long time.

You don’t need to go overboard on the whiskey for these, either. At home Wes and I particularly like Old Grand-Dad in a Whiskey Sour, and that’ll set us back the princely sum of about $10 a bottle.

I’m a tartness fanatic, so I will frequently invert the proportions of lemon juice and simple syrup. Adjust the proportions to your own taste; here’s how it’s usually made.

The Whiskey Sour

2 ounces Bourbon whiskey.
1 ounce simple syrup.
3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice.
1 egg white.

Combine ingredients in a shaker WITHOUT ice, and shake for 15-20 seconds to froth up the egg and emulsify the ingredients. Add ice and hard shake for 20 seconds, and pour into a sour glass or Old Fashioned glass. Garnish with a cherry.

Dad never did put egg white in his, but managed to get a halfway-decent head on them anyway. I love the addition of egg white in a sour — don’t fear eggs in your drinks! Just wait until I start foisting flips on you (which include a whole egg … for a shiny coat).

[2010 update: Recently at Anvil Bar & Refuge in Houston, co-owner and bartender Justin Burrow served me a marvelous Whiskey Sour made with William Weller 107 proof Bourbon which had been infused with cacao nibs (“about a handful in about a pint of whiskey,” Justin said. Tremendous!]