The most recommended cocktail books

A cocktail book from one of my favorite long-standing neighborhood Brooklyn bars.

Their appreciation of New Orleans and more importantly great food, drinks, and service is now compiled into one concise ‘almanac’ with an extraordinary section on oysters that is a must-read for any lover of these briny bivalves. I also appreciate that a fair amount of the recipes are classic in nature and fairly easy to replicate for the home user, all while explaining the origin stories of the most endearing concoctions.

This fascinating book plunges the reader into the avant-garde effervescence of the Roaring Twenties in Paris, presenting serious historical scholarship about the era alongside the author’s own take on classic cocktails like the Sazerac or the Highball. It provides, to quote the author Franck Audoux (in my book Makers Paris), “a kind of cultural snapshot of an era, to show how the cocktail, like jazz or the Charleston, participated in the reconstruction of a new society after the carnage of the First World War”.

One of the founders of the game-changing restaurant Le Châteaubriand, Franck is a pillar of the indie food and drinks scene here. This book is the fertile soil from which his current project, Cravan, grows. Named after Oscar Wilde’s nephew, the poet and boxer Arthur Cravan, Cravan is a contemporary cocktail bar rooted in the “French Modern.” 

While most of my professional drinking involves bourbon, my favorite change-of-pace cocktail is the martini. Lavishly illustrated, the book caught my eye when it was first published more than a quarter-century ago. Also, I had to own a book whose author had the splendidly Wodehousian name, Barnaby Conrad, III. Herein you’ll find photos and quotations of famous martini drinkers, both real and fictional, from Franklin Roosevelt and Dorothy Parker to James Bond and Nick and Nora Charles. Alas, it was published too soon to cite the wonderful scene in the film “Carol” when Cate Blanchett orders “a dry martini with an olive” at lunch. An illustration of two 1930s screen beauties pouring martinis from an Art Deco shaker inspired me to track down an identical specimen at an antiques mall. 

We're back to drinks proper with another feast for the eyes. This book has a deep appeal to me because I've always been a francophile. France has pulled at me from the earliest family holidays through to the years I lived in Paris.

Now, back in London, there's a bittersweet nostalgia in the mix. This book captures a lot of what I miss from those years because it's not just about the drinks but also the culture that surrounds them.

It reminds me that a drink is always an occasion. It doesn't have to be a fancy one either. There's the domestic and quotidian side, too, like preparing a café au lait the French way in one of those ridiculous footed bowls; they're totally useless to drink from yet somehow all the more appealing for it.

I’ve rarely found myself rooting so much for a detective. The novel chronicles one man’s lonely and obsessive hunt for a child murderer in 1950s Switzerland. This is a thrilling, fast-paced read, and some of the scenes affected me deeply.

Beyond the plot, however, what I find most compelling are the story’s explorations of the nature of evil and the role of chance in human life. Reason is put to a severe test in this story about a world full of darkness and chaos.

Order a Martini (straight up, or with ice chiming against the glass), then settle with this charming book and the “quintessential cocktail” that merits its own chapter in the imbiber’s US history tour. Grimes wears learning lightly while pointing out the cultural vagaries over four centuries of pleasurable distillation, brewing, and fermentation. Who knew the American Revolution was first fomented in 1700s village taverns? Or that the familiar Gilded Age “Bronx” (named by the Waldorf-Astoria’s master mixologist) was the very first cocktail to use fruit juice?

Author Grimes chides the 1960s Yuppies (a.k.a. young urban professionals) for purist insistence on “imported beer” and “the rarest of single-malt Scotches,” but concludes the country and the cocktail survived and are all the better for it. He gets no argument from me!

Last but certainly not least, Amanda Schuster’s recipe collection spends more time weaving a fantastic fabric of anecdotes and origin stories about a range of famous and infamous mixed drinks made in Manhattan. From familiar concoctions such as the Cosmopolitan’s New York origin stories and the eponymous Manhattan to more contemporary classics such as the Penicillin and the Purple Rain, readers will find inspiration in mixing and conversing about the drinks and the people who mixed them in the city that never sleeps.

I’m a loud and proud proponent of the magical nature of tiki drinks. In my opinion, it is utterly impossible to be sad or angry or frustrated when you are served a drink with an umbrella – and sometimes an orchid, a pineapple spear, and a swizzle stick – in it. Jeff Berry, aka  ‘Beachbumb Berry’, is one of the undisputed experts in the world of tiki culture, and Potions of the Caribbean is a vividly-designed, detail-packed adventure of a book. With Berry’s always thorough research and reflections, the book traces the origins of tropical drinks back 500 years eventually culminating in the tiki craze that took the United States, and later the world, by storm. Coupled with Berry’s in-depth history are vibrant, historical photos and juicy recipes that make your mouth water. To me, the happy-go-lucky tiki era embodies a sense of optimism, a time when a flaming, fruity… show more.

Whiskeys rule, but the modern bar dare not lack a battery of bitters that extend beyond from the familiar Angostura and Peychaud’s. By the “dash,” cocktails demand bitters which, all too often, appear to be an afterthought. (Yet my New Orleans-born Sazerac cocktail would taste “off” without Peychaud’s and my favorite Old Fashioned unthinkable without two dashes of time-honored Angostura.)

Bitters inducts us into the realm of these botanical “drugs” distilled from flowers, spices, citrus peels, tree bark—all originally dispensed in apothecary shops as cures for digestive woes, stomach troubles, even gout. By the Gilded Age, bitters transited to the bar under brands sounding sketchy (e.g. Flint’s Quaker Bitters), but Bitters opens a new botanical wonderland for my armchair imagining, and for others’ venturesome do-it-yourself distillation. Key Lime Bitters, anyone?

Named after a small section of the Barbary Coast in San Francisco that was infamous for the hard-drinking saloons, McDonnell explores the scandalous history through 25 cocktails.

Each drink made famous in San Francisco, from the classic Pisco Punch to modern classics like the Revolver, paint a vivid picture of the history of foggy San Francisco.