Dear Drink To That reader,

Faelan is the last knight of Mazerholme. A long lost legend takes him from his family’s mead hall, out into the wilds of the world of Silvani, where he must face a dragon guarding a great secret.

Sounds like the beginning of an interesting fantasy story, doesn’t it? A story that forms a key narrative of an intriguing new mead brand that’s launched in the UK called Storymaker.

A modern fantasy representation of mead

Based in Yorkshire, Storymaker looks to celebrate the long history of mead as one of the world’s oldest drinks and walking the line between tradition and modern drinking habits. What this means is that the brand is steeped in fantasy and gaming culture, while offering an accessible window into the category for people who may never have tried mead before.

These ideas come from a place of authenticity through the likes of co-founders Steve Dobson and Jason Kingsley. The latter of whom has a large presence in the field of gaming and fantasy storytelling as the CEO of the independent gaming studio Rebellion.

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The fantasy element is strong in the branding, which focuses on the aforementioned Faelan and his journey across six volumes/products. Each bottle features a QR code that reveals a new chapter of Faelan’s story:

• Vol 1: Traditional honey mead. Chapter 1: The Last Mead Of Mazerholme.

• Vol 2: Elderflower mead. Chapter 2: Trials of The Elderwood.

• Vol 3: Rhubarb mead. Chapter 3: The Storm Gate.

• Vol 4: Blueberry & Blackcurrant mead. Chapter 4: The Wizard Above The Clouds.

• Vol 5: Cherry & Hibiscus mead. Chapter 5: The Red Warden.

• Vol 6: Ginger and Chilli mead. Chapter 6: The Heart Of Fire.

The artwork of every label is unique to every product. Painted by artist Edouard Groult Arts, each label can only be described as epic. For example, the rhubarb mead sports a raging kraken ready to devour a ship while the ginger and chilli comes to life with a dragon breathing fire in the heat of battle. It’s classic fantasy tropes at their finest.

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Both Dobson and Kingsley bring their own unique perspectives to Storymaker. As someone with an outsider perspective on the industry, Dobson came to appreciate mead for its taste, historical heritage and the craftsmanship. He told me:

“When I first came across mead, it was informally through social media. I didn’t realise there was any commercialisation of the product or anybody making it outside of their bedroom. And since getting into the industry, you find out that a lot of people did start out in their bedroom and have grown the category into a thriving niche. What I like about mead is its versatility. At 15% ABV it’s highly drinkable neat and mixed, which gives you so many options to enjoy it.

With Storymaker, we want to give people a template of here’s our vision of how we want you to enjoy mead. And that’s how the flavour volumes came about. Every story has a start, middle and end and so does every night. It doesn’t matter whether you’re in a fancy wine bar or whether you’re at the local boozer or whether you’re getting together with your mates in the woods around a campfire. It’s about when you’d want to have that drink of mead. What does it symbolise for you?”

Kingsley’s network and gaming credentials are a boon for Storymaker in terms of brand awareness. Dobson spoke about what this means:

“Jason spotted the opportunity. He’s worked hard for over a 20-year period, and he’s able to afford a lifestyle that, essentially, is full-time medieval knight. He’s got a jousting arena. He’s got suits of armour. He’s got all kinds of swords, axes, and halberds. You see that he’s really passionate about keeping British history and the link to the mythical and the fantasy alive. With the click of a few buttons, he can post a video on his YouTube channel and a million people will see it.”

For more information check out storymakermead.com

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

Examining the drinking habits of historical cultures is a useful way to learn how people lived their lives hundreds of years ago. For example, Japanese samurai had sake and drank it as part of their leisure and for how it burnished their image as manly warriors. Vikings were also meant to have the same connection to mead.

But is it really true that the vikings drank mead and to what extent was it seen as a cultural tool? We can start to answer that question by first examining a couple of stories from Norse mythology.

The mead of poetry

At the end of the war between the Aesir and Vanir, the gods sealed their peace treaty by spitting into a large vat. From their saliva, a being formed called Kvasir, who became known as the wisest man alive. He was so wise that there wasn’t anything he didn’t know, and he travelled the nine realms, spreading his knowledge to whoever would listen.

One day, Kvasir was invited into the home of the dwarves Fjalar and Galar. Wanting Kvasir’s precious wisdom for themselves, they murdered him and poured his blood into a vat which they mixed with honey to make mead. Whoever drank this mead of poetry would be gifted with Kvasir’s silver tongue and the dwarves drank greedily.

When the gods questioned them about what had happened to Kvasir, they answered that he’d choked on his intelligence. Fjalar and Galar continued their murdering spree by killing a giant called Gilling and his wife. They took Gilling out to sea and sank his boat. On passing on the sad news to his wife, they got tired of her weeping and dropped a millstone on her head. This had consequences for the duo.

Gilling’s son, Suttungr, heard about his father’s murder and confronted the dwarves. Dragging them out to sea and dropping them on a reef at low tide, Suttungr threatened to drown them. The dwarves begged for their lives and Suttungr agreed to spare them in exchange for the mead of poetry. Coveting the wisdom for himself, Suttungr hid the mead deep in his chambers and instructed his daughter Gunnlod to watch over it.

But there was someone in the nine worlds even more starved of wisdom than Suttungr. This was Odin, whose hunger for knowledge was insatiable and when he heard about the mead being hoarded, he vowed to claim it for himself. Disguising himself as a farmhand, Odin travelled to the residence of Suttungr’s brother, Baugi. There he found nine slaves cutting hay with their scythes and he offered to sharpen the scythes with a whetstone he took from his cloak. The whetstone worked like a charm and each slave asked to buy it from Odin.

Agreeing to sell his marvellous product, Odin gave one condition: they must pay a high price. And so he threw the whetstone up in the air and in the struggle to take it, the slaves slashed each other’s throats with their scythes. Then The All-Father went to Baugi’s door and said

“Hello there, sir. I hope you’ll permit me to have a moment of your time. I am but a simple wanderer and while I don’t relish the thought of delivering bad news, I see it as my sworn duty to do what others turn away from. My name is Bolverk and I regret to tell you that as I was passing by your farm, I saw your thralls slaughter each other over a disagreement. I don’t know how it started. What I do know is that I’m capable of filling in to do their work, and in exchange, all I ask for is a draught of your brother’s mead. I’ve heard it’s a wondrous drink and have travelled far to learn more about it.”

Baugi answered that he had no power over his brother’s actions and that Suttungr was a notorious miser. But if Bolverk could truly perform the tasks of nine men then he would travel with him and see if he could persuade his brother to part with some mead. So, that summer, Bolverk toiled in the fields and by winter, his promise to Baugi had been fulfilled. When they went to Suttungr, the keeper of the mead refused to provide a single drop.

Undeterred, Bolverk convinced Baugi to help him get access to the mead in Gunnlod’s chamber. The giant took Bolverk to a place in the mountain stronghold nearest the chamber and gave him a drill to bore a hole into the rock. After Baugi drilled through the wall and announced he was done, the High One blew into the hole to check. Rock-dust blew back onto him and he realised the giant was trying to trick him. Bolverk demanded Baugi finish what he had started and the giant drilled all the way through.

With the job done, Odin cast off his disguise, turning into a snake and slipping through the hole. Seeing that he’d been deceived, Baugi tried to kill the god with the drill, but he was too slow. Now inside the chamber, Odin disguised himself as a handsome young man. He met Gunnlod and managed to seduce her. A bargain was struck. Three nights of sex for three sips of mead and so Odin spent his time in Gunnlod’s bed. But every time he went for a swig of mead, the AllFather drained the vat as much as he could.

When he had what he came for, Odin transformed into an eagle, flying from the wrath of Suttungr, who’d discovered the deceit. The giant also transformed into an eagle and gave chase. Odin soared back to Asgard and when he was near, the other gods set out vessels at the ready. Flying into Asgard in the nick of time, Odin puked up the mead into the containers.

But Suttungr had been so close that in fear and haste, Odin shat out some of his precious mead and these paltry drops of poetry fell to Midgard below. Mankind could drink this sullied portion, but they would only ever be bad poets and unoriginal creatives. But the true greats, those poets and storytellers who could make their audience feel something, were given their gifts by Odin. He shared his original batch of mead with them personally.

These stories of Kvasir and Odin’s mead heist demonstrate that the drink did indeed carry a lot of symbolic weight in Norse cultures. The gift of mead that Odin gave to humans has connotations of creative genius, ingenuity and poetic talent.

Norse history is a tapestry of extraordinary heroes and larger than life characters who we can learn a lot from in terms of resilience, leadership, not having all the answers and trying to move forward one step at a time.

My book, Norse Fighting Heroes: Kings, Conquerors and Shieldmaidens, recounts the tales of many of these figures. People like Ragnar Lothbrok, whose boundless ambition may inspire you to turn your dream into a reality. Voyagers like Aud The Deep-Minded, who led her family on a death defying journey into the unknown to make sure her legacy survived.

Buy Norse Fighting Heroes.

The reality of vikings and mead

Based on historical stories and archeological evidence, it’s likely that Vikings did drink mead and saw it as a beverage for celebration and communal bonding. However, honey was seen as a rare commodity at the time of the Viking Age between 793 AD - 1066 AD. Sourcing it as an ingredient was expensive in northern Europe, so when it mead was drunk, it was probably by the elite of Viking societies.

It’s possible that mead was already being replaced as the favoured drink of the Norse by the time of the Viking Age because of the swell of commerce and new goods flooding into Scandinavia through the connections that Norse warriors made across various countries. It’s possible Mediterranean wine was the drink of the day.

A major reason for mead’s association with vikings is the poem Beowulf, which features the Old English word for mead, medu, frequently. There are also several variations in Scandinavian eddic and skaldic poetry such as mjǫðr.

Scholars have pointed out that the usage of these words are used more for storytelling purposes than for practical use in the everyday life of Norse men and women. For example, the philologist Christine Fell believes that the presence of mead in Beowulf was part of an imagery and idealised heroic world rather than a drink that was consumed on a regular basis by Vikings.

Mead in the modern day

Today, the association between mead and viking culture remains strong through a number of influences. One factor is medieval and Norse reenactment communities that recreate historical battles and bring mead into the mix as a popular celebratory drink. Another factor are fantasy and Norse shows like Game of Thrones and Vikings that have continued to reinforce all the cool traditional Viking and fantasy warrior tropes that are felt at fantasy and comic cons.

There are several mead brands celebrating this aesthetic and legacy worth checking out. Yorkshire based Storymaker Mead, backed by gaming entrepreneur and author Jason Kingsley, has a strong fantasy association. The narrative of the brand follows a fantastical knight called Faelan whose journey can be experienced interactively through each Storymaker bottle. The products range from traditional mead and elderflower to sour cherry and hibiscus and ginger and chilli.

The Lancashire Mead Company in Bolton has a strong Norse aesthetic with various products named after famous Norse gods and heroes. For example, there’s Odin’s Mead made from pure honey and Freya’s mead made with wildflower honey and fresh orange juice extract. Horns of Odin, a viking culture shop, has its own mead line too with flavours such as dark cherry and mead aged in rum barrels.

These brands not only provide tasty mead. They are a window into all the ideas that make Viking lore so enduring.

Skål,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

There is a growing trend of agave spirits being made outside of Mexico and following in the footsteps of tequila and mezcal. After all, the agave is an adaptable plant and it’s interesting to see the kind of drinks and flavours that are coming out of different countries.

Cocuy from South America is a part of that list. I spoke with Otto Lauterbach, founder of Cocuy Ambassadors to find out more about this unique spirit, how it differs from tequila and mezcal and what the future holds for cocuy in the West.

For people who don’t know what cocuy is, what is it and what is the general history behind it?

In South America, we have been fermenting cocuy since the 1600s, or even before that, so it has been part of our culture for a long time. It was only when the Spanish came to conquer the Americas and South America that they brought alembics with them. Slowly, from that point onward, people began distilling cocuy. We have records dating back to the 1600s, but more official records came later. Precisely, the company Verdor that I represent through Cocuy Ambassadors had the first legal licence to produce cocuy nearly 100 years ago. In 2027 it will officially be 100 years since that licence was granted, so they are holders of the first licence.

In terms of how things evolved, cocuy was doing well nationwide as an industry, but during the 1940s there was a dictator in Venezuela who had a strong interest in making the rum industry more successful. Because of this, he imposed many restrictions on cocuy production and effectively made it illegal. For around sixty years, up until 2002, there was a great deal of clandestine cocuy production. Many people who refused to stop making it went into the mountains of an area called Municipio Urdaneta, which is where around eighty per cent of Venezuela’s cocuy is still made today.

The producers hid there with small pots of fermented juice, and the alembics they used were improvised steel barrels rather than stainless steel equipment. Everything was extremely precarious and mobile so they could move the stills quickly if they were discovered by the authorities.

This continued for roughly sixty-two years. People still produced cocuy illegally and in poor conditions, but they kept the tradition alive. Then in 2002, President Hugo Chávez came to power and made cocuy not only legal, but declared it a national patrimony and gave it a denomination of origin.

Since then, we’ve slowly been turning it into a real industry, although there is still a great deal of work to do. There are many laws, protections, and regulations that still need to be put in place to ensure efficiency, sustainability, and longevity for the future of cocuy production.

Cocuy itself is an agave spirit. The plant is called cocui trelease with an i while the drink is spelled with a y just to make things more confusing. The agave takes between eight and ten years to mature before it can be harvested. The production process is similar to mezcal. First we bake the agaves in underground concave ovens. Stones are heated with branches from a local tree called cují. Once the rocks are sufficiently hot, the ashes are cleared as much as possible to reduce excessive smoke. Then the piñas are placed into the pit and covered with cloths and gravel to create a natural underground oven.

The agaves remain there for around five days. Ideally, we want the piñas to cool naturally inside the earth rather than being removed while still warm. The entire process is slow and respectful. Once baked, the agaves are fermented and then distilled. That is essentially the process in simple terms.

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That’s fascinating. One thing I noticed when tasting Verdor was an earthy and herbal profile. I wondered if that was one of the major distinctions between cocuy and spirits like tequila or mezcal.

Are there other differences in the agave itself that shape the flavour profile?

The biggest distinction is that our agaves are completely wild. With tequila, for example, it’s difficult to find wild blue agave now. Even with mezcal, although there are still artisans using wild agaves, most production is farmed. Cocuy, however, still relies entirely on wild agaves. These agaves grow in the semi-arid regions of Venezuela where it only rains for perhaps three weeks of the year.

During those rainy periods you cannot harvest because the sugar concentration is too low. The rest of the year the agaves survive in extreme conditions with daytime temperatures reaching thirty-five to forty degrees Celsius and nighttime temperatures dropping to twelve or fourteen degrees. That dramatic change in temperature is essential because it creates very resilient agaves with high sugar concentration.

The agaves also grow surrounded by eucalyptus, wild oregano, and native trees such as cují and caujaro, which all contribute flavour. On top of that, there is the tropical climate and strong minerality from the soil because the plants are never watered artificially. Water exists underground in dry riverbeds beneath the mountains and hills where the agaves grow, so the plants pull water and minerals naturally from deep underground. That minerality becomes one of the spirit’s defining characteristics.

In the case of Verdor specifically, there are currently three major tendencies in cocuy production. The first is the traditional style. During distillation you separate the head, body, and tail. Traditionally, the best alcohol comes from the middle section between fifty and sixty per cent ABV. This produces the cleanest spirit with fewer hangovers and more volatile aromas such as floral, fruity, and mineral notes. The tail contains heavier oily, leathery, and earthy characteristics. Traditionally, producers would use a small amount of the tail to lower the alcohol to around forty percent.

Verdor decided not to follow that method. Instead, they preserve the volatile floral and fruity characteristics by adding water after distillation rather than blending in the tail. The spirit comes off the still at fifty-five or sixty degrees and is then diluted with water down to forty per cent. Similar to adding a little water to whisky or bourbon, this opens up the flavours while preserving the spirit’s natural profile. That philosophy defines Verdor’s style.

The third tendency emerging now is blending, or what in Mexico is called ensamble. This involves multiple producers combining different cocuy distillates together. A company called Maestro Ayaman is pioneering this approach in Venezuela right now and has become extremely successful. At Cocuy Ambassadors, we hope to bring them to Europe very soon.

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Let’s focus more on your own background. How did you personally become involved in the industry, and what made you want to become a promoter and ambassador for cocuy?

I’ve always loved tequila and mezcal. I lived in England for thirty years working in hospitality, building restaurants and bars, and I witnessed the incredible rise of agave spirits globally. Around eight years ago I visited Venezuela after spending many years away from the country, and somebody offered me cocuy. I was completely blown away by it.

I returned to England trying to find the right people to work with, but at that stage the industry still wasn’t ready to export. Then, about three and a half years ago, I moved back to Venezuela permanently for family reasons. That gave me the opportunity to truly immerse myself in the industry and investigate it deeply. Through that process I discovered Verdor. There were other companies as well, but Verdor stood out immediately as professional, serious, and export-ready. I knew they were the right people to work with.

Together with my partners Andrea Mottadetti, an Italian who also loves agave spirits, and John Paul Fraser, a Venezuelan-Canadian based in London, we founded Cocuy Ambassadors. They manage operations in the UK, handling logistics, opportunities, and relationships, while I remain in Venezuela sourcing producers, investing in the industry, buying land, and helping develop cocuy at the source.

What truly keeps me committed, though, are the people. These producers are like a clan or a tribe. They don’t make cocuy purely for business. They make it because they were born into it. You see nine-year-old children going into the mountains alongside their eighty-year-old grandmothers, completely involved in the process from an early age.

The tradition passes from generation to generation through pure passion and love. These people live and breathe cocuy. They are among the most generous and humble people I have ever met. It is an extraordinary industry to be part of.

One thing JP mentioned when I spoke to him was that in the US, Florida is currently the only place where cocuy is really available due to logistical challenges.

Have you noticed any major differences between the UK market and the US market in terms of acceptance or importing the spirit?

The UK market has definitely been more receptive and easier to work with. The US is much more complicated because every state has its own laws and regulations. You have to adapt to different requirements constantly. Choosing a distributor is also extremely important because distributors are often limited to operating within a single state and cannot easily distribute nationwide. It becomes incredibly complex.

In comparison, the UK has been easier than much of mainland Europe. Exporting into Britain is more straightforward. Countries like France or Spain involve far more testing, bureaucracy, and paperwork. The UK has been far more welcoming from a logistical perspective.

I wondered whether cocuy shares similarities with Venezuelan rum, like Diplomatico, when explaining it to people. Do you find that comparison useful, or do you see cocuy as completely separate?

Completely separate. I wouldn’t compare it closely to rum at all. The only similarity comes from ageing practices because, until recently, many reposados in Venezuela were aged in old rum barrels. These barrels, often American or Canadian oak, had already been used extensively in the rum industry and no longer contributed much flavour to rum, so they were sold cheaply to cocuy producers.

As a result, some aged cocuys developed slight molasses or sugarcane notes. But fundamentally, agave itself makes cocuy entirely different from rum or whisky. Whisky grains and sugarcane can be harvested and processed very quickly, whereas agave requires many years to mature. The entire agricultural cycle and production process are much slower and more demanding. Agave spirits occupy a completely different category.

Regarding the denomination of origin and legal protections, what regulations currently define authentic cocuy?

The most important rule is that it must be made from one hundred per cent agave. Beyond that, many regulations are still being developed. In complete honesty, the industry is still in a very early stage of formalisation. We are working hard to create better protections, particularly for artisans and the land itself.

Unfortunately, there are already entrepreneurs trying to exploit poor producers. These artisans often live in poverty, so if somebody offers them decent money they may sell large quantities of cocuy or even agave plants without long-term protections. Because of that, we are trying to establish stronger legislation, although much of that work is still confidential at this stage.

In many ways, it’s almost a miracle that Verdor exists internationally already. At the same time, there are positive developments. Companies like Saroche are cultivating cocuy more sustainably, and many people we work with are investing in farming and conservation initiatives.

Could you give me a brief history of the family behind Verdor?

Cristóbal Sánchez, Verdor’s Maestro Cocuyero, is third generation. Because cocuy production faced so many restrictions historically, one member of his family was even imprisoned for three months simply for producing cocuy. Their roots in the tradition run incredibly deep. The family has been making cocuy for around two hundred years.

Cristóbal Sánchez is also one of the most important figures in the modern cocuy industry in Venezuela. He is deeply involved in protecting the category and pushing for stronger legal frameworks and regulations to safeguard its future.

It’s always inspiring hearing about the people fighting to protect these traditions.

The challenge is that Venezuela’s political situation remains very unstable. You might spend months building relationships with a particular minister, only to discover later that the entire administration has changed. Achieving anything in Venezuela is extremely difficult. That’s what I meant when I said it’s a miracle Verdor has a presence in UK.

A trend I’ve noticed globally is that more countries are producing agave distillates outside of Mexico. We now see projects in India, Italy, South Africa, Venezuela, and elsewhere. What are your thoughts on that wider movement?

I think it’s fantastic. I know producers in India and South Africa, and there are also projects in Italy. Colombia may soon release an agave distillate, and Bolivia also has agave resources. The more this category grows globally, the better it will be for everyone.

At the moment, being one of the only recognised agave spirits outside of Mexico makes promotion difficult. But if more countries begin producing high-quality agave distillates, consumers will become more open and curious about the broader category. That increased awareness will help all of us. I truly believe the movement will continue to grow.

Looking specifically at the UK market and Verdor, cocktails are often one of the best ways to introduce people to new spirits.

Are there particular cocktails or activations you’ve been focusing on?

We strongly believe that Verdor is fundamentally a sipping spirit. The quality, flavour profile, and limited production all point toward enjoying it neat rather than masking it in cocktails. That said, cocktails are obviously important for introducing consumers to the category.

We’ve collaborated on several initiatives already. The Soho Hotel created a Negroni using Verdor Reposado that they rested in a barrel inside the hotel for six months. It was an incredible success. They sold sixty litres within a month at a very premium price point.

Bars in East London, such as Highwater, are also using cocuy in margaritas. Naturally, cocktails like margaritas and palomas are familiar entry points because consumers already associate them with agave spirits.

However, personally I think the best way to experience Verdor is almost like an Old Fashioned, with a little Angostura bitters and a large cube of ice. That slight dilution opens up the floral and fruity notes beautifully.

What excites you most about the future of cocuy?

We’ve already won medals and recognition in competitions all around the world, including Mexico, Belgium, America, and China. That international recognition is extremely exciting for us.

What excites me even more is that Cocuy Ambassadors is currently working with four additional producers that we hope will be export-ready by the end of this year or the beginning of next year. These are very serious producers with incredible products. One of them will hopefully be my own brand, Cocuy Embajador.

Most importantly, there is now genuine attention being paid to the industry by people who want to protect it rather than simply exploit it. Everything suggests that cocuy is finally going to establish itself internationally. Production volumes will always remain relatively small compared to tequila giants producing hundreds of thousands of litres, but that also means cocuy can preserve its identity as a high-quality artisanal spirit.

If you could change one or two things about the cocuy industry right now, what would they be?

That’s an interesting question because I approach the industry with a great deal of humility. These families have been making cocuy for generations with enormous passion and dedication, so as an outsider I want to remain respectful and receptive to their traditions and methods.

Honestly, the only thing I would truly change is the level of government support. If we had stronger institutional backing, easier export agreements, and more international support, then the possibilities would be enormous. Beyond that, I wouldn’t change anything. It’s a wonderful industry filled with extraordinary people.

What are your thoughts on the idea of “new world” agave spirits? Do you think they can follow in the success of tequila and mezcal?

Write me at infodrinktothat@gmail.com and let’s continue the discussion.

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

In the past few years, Irish whisky has gone from strength to strength in terms of reclaiming its place in whisky history as a high-quality and respected category. The story of Irish whisky is one of deep national pride and historical beauty.

Bolstered by this surge in interest, many distilleries have either reopened their doors or new venues have appeared to celebrate local history and craft techniques. Titanic Distillers in Belfast is one of the most interesting and exciting examples to ride this wave and here’s what you should know about it.

Reviving a storied heritage

Opened in 2023 on the Thompson Dry Dock, Titanic Distillers pays homage to perhaps the most famous ship launch in recent memory. The distillery is based in the old pump house where the Titanic ship was launched, with the brand celebrating the ship building and Irish whisky making history of Belfast.

In the early 1900s, Belfast produced over half of Ireland’s whisky, approximately 6.7 million gallons and there were roughly 18 working distilleries in the city. The ship building industry also thrived, with the workforce reaching 35,000 people. But after World War 1, both industries collapsed in Belfast. Based on this history, Titanic Distilleries is the first whisky distillery to open in Belfast in 90 years.

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A wide portfolio and investment opportunities

The Titanic Distilleries portfolio is broad and growing. There are a few different whisky variations, including a triple distilled product aged in American oak ex-bourbon barrels, a blended sherry cask edition, a five-year pot still edition and a special ‘Spirit of 82’ whisky edition that celebrates the Northern Ireland football team’s victory over Spain in the 1982 World Cup.

Titanic Distilleries also provides Irish whisky investment services through their 401 Club. The initiative was inspired by the original 401 yard number of the ship that would become the Titanic. The process involves investing in a new make spirit that goes into first-fill American oak barrels and covers seven years of insured on-site storage and all the important certification elements of whisky investing.

Titanic Distillers operates on a direct person to person relationship with investors, giving them access to the distillery to check samples, see barrels and speak directly to the distillery team and founders.

With the focus on heritage, interesting storytelling and well-priced products, Titanic Distillers appears to be on track for smooth sailing without an iceberg in sight. For more information, you can see titanicdistillers.com

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

Here is the third and final part in a series called A Condensed And Unusual History Of Vodka. The first part began with vodka’s origins in Poland, while the second part came from Russia with love.

For the final part, let’s look at how vodka conquered America and the origins of iconic brands like Absolut and Grey Goose came to be.

1958 became a watershed year for white goods like vodka. It was the year Ian Fleming’s James Bond uttered the immortal line “shaken, not stirred” when ordering a martini in the novel Dr No. In 1964’s Goldfinger, Sean Connery made the line even more famous when he said it for the first time on screen as Bond. Not that America’s infatuation with vodka rested solely on the shoulder of Fleming’s iconic spy, but it certainly helped with its image as the spirit of a new generation.

Vodka appreciation had been steadily growing in the States since the end of the Second World War. In 1950, only 40,000 cases were sold. Five years later, that number had jumped to 4 million.

It’s interesting that at the time of the Cold War, when Americans feared Communism on their doorsteps and the invasion of Red armies, it was a colourless liquid that popped up everywhere and radicalised the American youth who were fed up with their parents’ and grandparents’ fuddy-duddy taste in brown spirits like Scotch and bourbon. Further bolstering vodka’s appeal was the fact that it was colourless, odourless and could be mixed with anything.

Smirnoff took advantage of this with its ‘Leave You Breathless’ campaign. This slogan, along with ‘It Takes Your Breath Away’, tapped into the idea that people who drank vodka wouldn’t be caught over the limit on breathalyser tests. Then there was the variety of cocktails that could be made with Smirnoff.

A 1967 advert read: “You can’t decide which one you like the best. Smirnoff Screwdrivers with the zestful taste of orange juice. Bloody Marys with tomato juice. The Smirnoff Mule with refreshing 7-Up. The dryest Martinis. The smoothest drink on-the-rocks. Filtered through 14,000 pounds of activated charcoal, only Smirnoff makes so many drinks so well. “

Chief among these cocktails was the Moscow Mule, an invention from Smirnoff that boosted sales even more. This zingy mixture of Smirnoff vodka, ginger beer and lime first appeared in 1940 in a Los Angeles restaurant called Cock’n’Bull.

The owner, Jack Morgan, needed to move a lot of homemade ginger beer, while his girlfriend Ozeline Schmidt, was the heiress of a copper factory that struggled to sell its products. Smirnoff CEO John Martin and his advertising manager met with Morgan and Schmidt to create a cocktail that combined the bar’s ginger ale and was served in a copper mug.

It wasn’t until 1946 that the Moscow Mule started rolling out to bars across the country because Smirnoff wasn’t being produced during the Second World War. Martin launched an aggressive marketing campaign to get it onto menus, though it kept getting refused by every bartender he put it in front of. Common responses included “what, drink that stuff? Russian dynamite? No sir!”

To get around this, Martin came up with a stunt that involved Polaroid cameras. If he could get a bartender to try the cocktail, he’d snap a picture of them drinking it out of a copper cup. He’d take two photos.

One was for the bartender’s wife, the second was to take it to the next bar across the street and so on and so on until the Moscow Mule was “firmly entrenched” in the American zeitgeist by 1954 according to the New York Times.

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Absolut domination

Another vodka was able to capture the imagination of the American public through the same kind of bold marketing campaigns and risk- taking attitude. Absolut vodka. The story of this iconic brand goes back to nineteenth century Sweden when a man known as Lars Olsson Smith set out to make an absolutely pure vodka and challenge the city of Stockholm’s booze marketing monopoly by selling his product outside of the city at a cheaper price.

Smith’s decision to thumb his nose at the Swedish government’s control of liquor marketing was successful and his Rent Brännvin (pure vodka) was a big hit. Smith ended up controlling half of all vodka sales in Sweden, brashly offering free ferry services to his customers to the island of Reimersholme where he made his vodka.

As you might expect, Smith’s antics earned him his fair share of enemies. He survived two assassination attempts, eventually becoming ill with appendicitis. Believing he wouldn’t survive for much longer but holding out hope for a lifesaving operation in London, Smith left his money to his family in case he didn’t make it. He did. And when he returned home, his wife, sons and daughters refused to give him back his wealth and he died destitute in 1913.

It was an ignoble end for the vodka king of Sweden, even more so when his products were taken over by the Swedish state liquor monopoly in 1917 and run into the ground.

By the 1970s, the Swedes had lost their thirst for strong spirits, due to various government campaigns to try to change local drinking habits. Wine was being presented as the better alternative, while other initiatives were encouraging Swedes to stop drinking altogether. Lars Lindmark, CEO of Vin & Sprit, saw an opportunity to relaunch the once-illustrious brand a hundred years after it was first developed by Smith.

He rightfully saw that vodka was considered a premium product in America, but for his vision to catch on, he understood that the product would need to have an incredible design and memorable marketing in a highly competitive market. To do this, he worked with Gunnar Broman of the Carlsson & Broman agency on the key task of exporting Swedish vodka with a sexy and sleek product. Broman went to work and found a pharmacy bottle in an antique shop in Stockholm’s Old Town.

This was the first part of the puzzle, as vodka had been sold to pharmacies as medicine in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in Sweden. Next, Broman sat down with the creative team of the Ayer advertising agency in New York, presenting five different concepts. At the time, it was fashionable to create premium bottles that were decked out in gold and silver – anything with flash.

Broman went against commercial tastes by wanting a design that was understated and transparent. So the bottle used for Absolut would be see-through, which drew a viewer’s eye through it. Put a lot of Absolut bottles together and they’d look like a vacuum. Another design choice was to make the label on the bottle look like an old-fashioned ad, i.e. with the brand name appearing as a headline above text that went into history and traditions.

Like a phoenix rising from the ashes, Smith was resurrected on the label, his name etched into the saga of Swedish vodka. The final piece of the puzzle came with the name. First, Absolute Pure Vodka was suggested but was quickly shot down because of trademark issues in the US and ‘pure’ couldn’t be used either because of legal restrictions. So, the name was shortened to Absolut in honour of the Swedish spelling.

At last, Absolut was ready to go to the American market and Vin & Sprit found the right partnerships to make sure the product was ready to launch for the spring of 1979 at a trade fair in New Orleans, and then across the East Coast soon after. Before long, Absolut was stirring up a craze on the Manhattan cocktail scene. New Yorkers were curious about trying an Absolut on the rocks and any time a bartender said they hadn’t heard of the new superstar Swedish vodka on the block, the intrigue and excitement got bigger.

Much of Absolut’s success came from the innovative bottle design, which earned first prize from the Art Directors Club in New York in 1980. Vodka It even caught the eye of artists from all strata of society, with the most famous being Andy Warhol. The story goes that Warhol saw Absolut in Studio 54, the club he liked to hang out in with his friend Michel Roux, the CEO of Carillon.

Something about the bottle spoke to the artist and in 1985, Warhol painted it. Absolut Warhol hit the public eye in 1986, a luscious pink, purple and red homage to the legacy of Lars Olsson Smith.

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Vodka’s Refinement and Reinvention

By the 1990s, vodka was in danger of becoming permanently stuck with its image as an unrefined odourless, colourless spirit that didn’t have much else going for it. In the mid-’90s, another shift happened, with vodka becoming more complex and flavoursome, a move towards refinement and a celebration of natural ingredients. Arguably, the brand that started this trend was Grey Goose in 1997. American entrepreneur Sidney Frank teamed up with French cellar master Francois Thibault to develop a French vodka that could take the category in a bold new direction. Frank had come from a rural background and established himself as a savvy businessman, though he didn’t have any spirit-making experience.

Thibault had earned his stripes in the wine and cognac trade and the two men’s skills complemented each other. Both agreed that to make a stand-out vodka, full control of the ingredients was necessary. Instead of buying existing spirit and re-distilling it, Frank and Thibault sourced wheat from Picardie and spring water from Gensac-la-Pallue, making and distilling the vodka from scratch. These ingredients celebrated the terroir of French grains and landscape, pointing towards a premium spirit that stood out above other products on the market.

This came across in how the vodka was positioned, being called single-origin because of the provenance of the two main ingredients of wheat and water. But first, before the ingredients and the brand story could be created, there had to be a memorable name.

A few stories have been given for where the Grey Goose name originated. One romantic tale involves the famous geese that are meant to gather and drink from the fountain in front of Hotel de Ville in Cognac, France. I suspect that to be a wild goose chase.

The most likely origin comes directly from Frank, who said he got the name from a German white wine he sold back in the ’70s and was defunct in the ’90s. It couldn’t have hurt that he owned the worldwide rights to the name. Armed with a memorable name, a luxurious-looking logo and bottle, and a fine-tasting liquid, Grey Goose took the world by storm, going head- to-head with fellow luxury vodka Absolut and carving out its own corner of the market.

With its success came the freedom for new brands to enter the premium vodka space, adding their own flourishes and flavours to the mix, like Belvedere, which tapped into its heritage to reintroduce to the world what Polish vodka is capable of in a luxury setting.

But with this premiumisation has come a certain kind of association, according to Ross Haddow, the chief marketing officer of Dutch Barn Orchard vodka, which is co-owned by comedian Ricky Gervais.

“For a long time, vodka entered this space of overt status projection with rappers, bling, sparklers and big bottles, particularly successful when those on-trade party venues were flying. This world will always resonate with a certain consumer, but there are a growing number of them looking for something and until now vodka has failed to evolve with this. There is a reappraisal of how good vodka can be.”

Dutch Barn certainly contains an echo of the old, rural roots of vodka, a down-to-earth, rustic process that involves apples from North Yorkshire being blended with potato spirit. Another emerging field in the modern vodka revolution is the ready-to-drink category, packaged alcoholic drinks with spirit bases.

Vodka is one of the most popular bases according to Adam Rogers, the North American research director of the alcohol data intelligence platform IWSR:

“Many of today’s younger legal-drinking-age consumers are opting for RTDs as their entry into beverage alcohol, with many of the RTDs being vodka-based. Since RTDs act as a bridge product to the full-length strength version, vodka will eventually experience an increase in consumer attention once they cross that bridge.”

An example of this is Sprinter, a line of 100-calorie vodka sodas from reality star Kylie Jenner. Sprinter comes in flavours of black cherry, grapefruit and lime. Established vodka brands like Absolut are getting in on the trend as well. The company launched its 5% ABV Absolut Vodka Sprite, indicating that RTDs are moving away from the sugar- filled alcopop explosions of the early days.

Premiumisation continues to be the driving force behind vodka, as it does with many other spirits. But few perhaps have the chameleon-like ability that vodka does in its ability to work across cocktails, mixers, RTDs and beyond.

The once-upstart spirit that came down from the frozen climbs and rustic settings of Eastern Europe has found itself a place in the Western imagination.

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

It’s grim up North.

As a Northerner, I’ve always found that saying funny when it comes to describing the conditions and atmosphere of the North of England.

Beyond the typical bantery Britishness of the phrase, it’s an amusing pastiche to break when you consider the amount of innovation and creativity that is going on in the drinks space. Especially when it comes to spirits and whisky.

Not far outside the city of Lancaster, an awesome story is brewing that could change the face of English whisky and lead the category’s next interpretation. And it’s all going down at the Lancaster Spirits Company.

The first Lancashire single malt whisky

Chris Pateman, Commercial Manager of Lancaster Spirits Co, is on a mission to create single malt English whisky that celebrates the high art of brewing. A practice he feels has been lost when it comes to whisky making and is an ideal time to reclaim. He’s in the right place to do it, as the premises of Lancaster Spirits Co has operated as a brewery for 25 years and has recently expanded into a distillery to fulfil the whisky ambitions.

To make the first ever Lancashire single malt, Chris is aiming to use all local ingredients which includes barley, water and equipment from the distillery. Having worked in the whisky industry for over a decade, which includes being a member of the English Whisky Guild and a stint at the Lakes Distillery, Chris is channeling his passion into not only championing the North but to also further differentiate English whisky from Scotch.

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According to him:

“English whisky has been made for hundreds of years. I think that’s something a lot of people don’t realise. We tend to think of whisky as being exclusively Scottish, but England has its own long history of whisky production. The reason that tradition disappeared wasn’t because people suddenly stopped wanting to make whisky. It was largely down to taxation.

Once the Crown introduced duties on alcohol, distilling became much more difficult for producers operating in towns and cities. Distilleries in accessible locations either closed because they couldn’t afford to pay the tax, or they continued operating illegally and were eventually shut down. The economics simply stopped working for many English distillers, and over time the industry largely disappeared.

The notable exception was Scotland’s more remote distilleries. There’s a reason so many famous Scotch distilleries aren’t in places like Edinburgh or Glasgow. They’re tucked away in valleys, glens and isolated parts of the Highlands. You have to remember this was the era of horse and cart, so remoteness gave distillers a huge advantage. They could literally hide their stills away in barns, sheds and small outbuildings, making it much harder for the taxman to find them. That geography played a significant role in allowing Scottish whisky production to survive while much of England’s distilling heritage faded away.”

I’m walking to raise money for The Drinks Trust

On September 25th, I’m taking part in a 14 mile walking challenge in Manchester to raise money for The Drinks Trust. The charity helps folks in the hospitality industry find work and provides support for their mental and financial health.

I’m raising £250 as part of the walk and I’d appreciate your help in donating to this important cause.

Clicking the button below will take you to my funding page. Any money you can donate will go along way to supporting an industry and people who need it right now.

Donate To My Walking Challenge

In recent years, English whisky has made a comeback, with brands like English Whisky Co being an early pioneer of the category and elevating the category. Lancashire Spirits Co hopes to follow in those footsteps with the release of its first single malt in 2027.

While still at the early stages of this whisky journey, Lancashire Spirits Co is offering a membership club called the Founders Reserve. Members will be able to get first access to the single malts when they are made, along with other perks as the company continues to evolve.

Check out https://lancasterspirits.co.uk/ for more information on the Founders Reserve, private bookings and tours.

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

Last week, I wrote the first part of a three part series called An Unusual and Condensed History of Vodka, which kicked off with a look at how vodka started in Poland.

This week, we jump across to Russia to see how the spirit developed through a march of political censures and strongmen grabbing at power.

Like Poland, vodka has a storied history in Russia and possibly the first ever spirit to be tasted in the country was called ‘zhiznennoy vody’ (living water), which is the equivalent of aqua vitae. From there, the process of distilling vodka may have stemmed from Genoese merchants distilling for the Grand Duke of Lithuania in the 1400s.

Russian clerics also visited Italian monasteries to see distilling techniques first-hand and brought it back with them. In the fifteenth century, the growth of vodka started to increase in Russia because of new distilling technology and we see an early example of how the perspective of vodka becomes tied up with the man in charge. Tsar Ivan IV, better known as Ivan the Terrible, saw the commercial power of vodka. While previous rulers like Grand Prince Ivan III had forbidden the making of strong spirits, the Tsar went on to build the first ‘kabak’ (tavern) for his palace guard in Moscow and sanctioned state- owned distillers so he could control and profit from them.

This didn’t mean Ivan the Terrible enjoyed knocking back vodka. He even restricted drinking in kabaks and took a hard line against public drunkenness. This set off a pendulum swing of rulers either banning alcohol production, or pushing it for their own agenda. The next Tsar, Fyodor, tried to tear down kabaks. Then his successor Boris Godunov saw the money to be made in the vodka trade and aimed to grow kabaks across Russia, while also permitting it to be bought and taken off the premises.

The first of the Romanov Tsars, Mikhail, took the opposite stance and tried to limit vodka growth with limited prohibition in the mid-1600s, only for his son Alexis to reverse the decision when he took power. Tsar Alexis’ most enduring contribution to the history of vodka is the codifying of the state’s monopoly on alcohol production and sale. In 1649, he introduced the Law Code, which spelt out that any private production of alcohol would be met by brutal punishment and any money earned from vodka sales would go into the royal coffers.

This was bad news for peasant distillers, who nevertheless went on making ‘samogon’, homemade vodka. It was good news for aristocratic distillers who could earn favour among the Russian elite with their fashionable beverages and vodka varieties mixed with herbs, fruits and berries.

A popular gimmick of seventeenth century Russian noble feasts was to include a selection of vodka with flavours that started with each letter of the Russian alphabet. Into the nineteenth century, vodka had become a pillar of the Russian national identity and so businesses and brands wanted to shout about it and bring any kind of legitimacy they could as part of Russian pride.

It was out of this desire that the connection between vodka and one of Russia’s most famous scientific minds would be forever intertwined. Dmitri Mendeleev, chemist and creator of the periodic table, has been caught up in more than one romantic legend over the years. For example, there’s one popular story about how Mendeleev supposedly created the periodic table in his sleep.

On a February night, after a long day of work, Mendeleev fell asleep and dreamed the chemical elements could be arranged into groups with similar characteristics if grouped by atomic weight. There’s no documented evidence to support this myth. Another myth claims that Mendeleev invented vodka.

Or if not that, he created the perfect mixture of 40% ethanol and 60% water. It became the literal Russian Standard, as a Russian vodka brand of the same name proudly states. ‘In 1894, Dimitri Mendeleev, the greatest scientist in all of Russia, received the decree to set the Imperial quality standard for Russian vodka and the “Russian Standard” was born.’

While Mendeleev wrote a dissertation called A discourse on the compounds of alcohol and water, and did experiments to test the precise measurements of ethanol and water mixtures at various ratios, he didn’t state anywhere in his writing that vodka at 40% ABV is the best quality.

His area of study wasn’t about the best way to mix vodka. He was commissioned by the Russian government to find more efficient ways to bring in excise tax on alcohol. His research helped to do exactly that. Nor was Mendeleev a vodka drinker himself. He didn’t want to become an alcoholic like one of his older brothers. So, he sipped red wine instead.

At the turn of the twentieth century, Russia again went through massive political upheaval with the ousting of the Romanov line, the Bolsheviks taking power and the rise of Communism. Party leader Vladimir Lenin was a staunch opposer of alcohol, using his anti-vodka rhetoric to strengthen his position. He claimed that in vodka, Tsarist Russia had supplied society with the means to abuse itself, lulling the common man into torpor and rendering him too drunk to challenge the status quo.

The Bolshevik ban was essentially the Russian equivalent of American Prohibition and went down about as well as it did in the States. In the 1920s, it’s estimated that about a third of rural households in Russia were once again making samogon, and so by 1925 the government had given in. Private homebrewing was legal, so long as the alcohol wasn’t going to be sold. In the lead-up to the Second World War, the pattern of leaders switching from demonising vodka to promoting it continued when Stalin took over as the head of the Russian government.

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He used the revenue from spirit sales to fund national defence programmes and increase his political strength. At the end of the ’30s, the ABV of vodka spiked from 20% to its ‘natural’ level of 40% ABV, as Mendeleev had ‘recommended’ years ago. Vodka was the fuel that kept the Russian military going throughout the Second World War. It was served to the troops as part of their rations.

To some high-ranking officials in the Russian command centre, such as Sergei Witte who created the State Vodka monopoly as finance minister, vodka could single-handedly fund wars, such as the conflict with Japan back in the early 1900s. He wrote in his memoirs about his successor:

‘When the war with Japan began, the then finance minister Vladimir Nikolaevich Kokovtsev began to use the liquor monopoly primarily as a means of increasing revenue, by raising liquor prices and increasing the number of liquor stores. And the work of excise officials was judged by increase in revenue rather than by decrease in alcoholism.’

Like many of his policies, Stalin was ruthless in how he executed them and wouldn’t let anyone get in his way of achieving his vision of a powerful Soviet Union. For example, prior to him being in office, so-called social hygienists had placed a lot of emphasis on alcoholism being a social-based disease. They advised the Soviet people to be weaned off this alcohol dependence to make sure the nation could be strong. This view was echoed by psychiatrists, who believed only they had the ability to solve the social ills of alcohol abuse and cure suffering patients.

According to author Patricia Herlihy, ‘touting the results of their empirical studies of the patients in psychiatric institutions, the psychiatrists maintained that they alone had the knowledge to treat this type of alcoholic effectively’.

There was no room for this kind of intense scrutiny in the new world Stalin was building and these social hygienists and psychiatrists either quietly moved into new lines of work or disappeared in more permanent ways.

Herlihy also writes ‘With the question of alcoholism thus ‘solved’, in 1930 Stalin ordered the production of vodka to be increased and placed directly under central government control. New factories were built, and by 1940 there were more shops selling drink than meat, fruit and vegetables put together; the output of alcohol rose sharply as a result.’

Of course, the Russian government would once again return to dimming vodka’s commercial star once the Second World War ended. But over in the West, vodka was about to shoot straight for the moon and seize the spotlight in America.

Look out for part three next week.

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

Welcome to the first part in a three part series called an unusual and condensed history of vodka.

What you might think of as a colourless spirit that tastes like petrol and regret or overpriced and mid, has a long and weird cross-cultural history with its origins in Poland and Russia and a mainstream maturation in America.

1864, Russia. A man named Piotr Smirnov had an idea. A businessman who’d risen far from his humble origins as a serf in the tiny Russian village of Kayurovo, Smirnov was always thinking about the next thing that could push him up to the next rung of society. His latest idea was vodka.

Within twenty years, Smirnov vodka was one of the most famous vodka producers in Russia and Piotr had become one of the wealthiest men in the country. In 1886, he’d even received a special designation from the Tsar as a Purveyor of the Imperial Court, meaning the Smirnovs were the official vodka makers to the royal family, and the people. It was all going so well until the early 1900s, when the Tsar nationalised the Russian vodka industry. By this time, Piotr had died and his son Vladimir had taken over.

With this nationalisation, Vladimir was forced to sell his factory and it only got worse during the Russian Revolution of 1917. As the Bolsheviks seized power and the line of Tsars was broken, Smirnov and his family fled the country. In the 1920s, Vladimir created a factory in Constantinople (Istanbul) and eventually settled in France, where he changed the family name from Smirnov to Smirnoff. This name sounded less Russian and less likely to have his family oppressed, so Vladimir revived the vodka brand under the Smirnoff name.

By the 1930s, the Smirnoffs had sold the rights to their vodka to an American tycoon called John G. Martin, the co-founder of the Heublein alcohol distribution company.1 His board thought he was mad. For decades, Americans had been staunch whisky drinkers. Vodka was alien and strange. How was it possibly going to sell? Martin rolled the dice and his gamble paid off. Smirnoff vodka exploded onto the scene, leading a revolution as loud and as wild as any dreamed up by the Russian people.

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In 1939, the year that Martin bought the rights to Smirnoff, vodka represented a poxy 35,370 gallons of what was consumed in the US. In 1961, it jumped by 50 per cent between 18–44-year-old men and this was a sign of things to come. Vodka didn’t just come after whisky. It looked to topple rum, gin and other categories as the world’s most consumed spirit.

For a time, it looked like that was going to happen. First, let’s go back to the origins of this upstart spirit and how the stage was set for its American invasion.

The Origins of Vodka

Vodka a spirit made from fermented cereal grains and potatoes, has a history that may date back to as early as the eighth century in Poland or the ninth century in Russia. Both nations have a claim to fame on it, but there is little if any documented evidence to suggest this was the case, as suggested by Scott Simpson in his paper History and Mythology of Polish Vodka.

Instead, it would be more fitting to say that vodka developed through a natural exchange between the Slavic tribes that would settle the land of Poland and all the other cultures that formed countries like Ukraine and Russia. The early drink of these cultures was beer and fermented wine and the first record that is meant to exist of a vodka distillery comes from 1174 in Russia from the Vyatka Chronicle. This may or may not be true.

We can assume, like the path of other spirits, distillation techniques came to Russia and Poland around the thirteenth century and distillation was used for alchemy and medical purposes. One of these early physicians, Nicholas of Poland, likely carried these techniques back home with him after studying at the Medical School of Salerno.

A couple of centuries later, another Polish physician Stefan Falimirz, published a book called Of Herbs and Their Powers, which detailed the medical uses of a wide variety of plants and other ingredients. In it, he also refers to the preparation of ‘wódki’, by way of distillation. Here we see the substance that would become vodka referenced for the first time in the Polish language. According to Simpson, ‘Falimirz’ wódki differed subtly from what we call ‘vodka’ today. For Falimirz, wódki included all ‘medicinal distillates, both distilled ethanol and steam-distilled essential oils’.

Wódki became interchangeable with another Polish word ‘gorzatka’, a beverage that steadily grew in popularity for the Polish working class throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Alongside it, ‘vini cremati’ (burnt wine) was also a popular choice. Gorzatka still had a long way to go before it became universally accepted, especially as the literary scene evolved in Poland.

A popular literary image of the gorzatka-drinker of Polish Renaissance poetry was a petty nobleman getting sauced and suffering from brutal hangovers. The moral decay and chaos caused by distilled alcohol were also blamed on outsiders, as the poet Klonowic mentioned that the stuff must have been created by Satan himself in 1584. Into the seventeenth century, opinions began to change about gorzatka.

The Krakow writer Jurek Potański wrote a tract in 1614 about vodka being a local tradition and acknowledging that neighbouring nations had their own version of it as well. From that point on, vodka was established as the drink of Polish culture. This was observed by Ulryk Werdum, a noble German who visited in 1671 and said gorzatka was the ‘favourite drink’ of ‘the most aristocratic Poles’. They ‘carry it with them … and must drink it almost every hour’.

With vodka now firmly entrenched in Polish culture, there was room for experimentation with ingredients. By the 1760s, grain vodka was the most popular type that was being made, but there was also a tradition of fruit vodkas that has lived on into the modern day. The most prominent of the period was ‘sliwowica’, also called plum brandy.

In 1777, botanist Jan Kluk said ‘wodka from all of the fruits can be excellent, but among them the best is from plums’. Recent Polish legislation has attempted to banish sliwowica from the vodka canon and place it in a new category called ‘okowita’ (an old Polish word that comes from the Latin aqua vitae), but fruit vodka and vodka remain generally intertwined in the mind of modern consumers. Sliwowica has certainly been more enduring than other types of vodka, such as rye when it was dethroned by an invader in the eighteenth century.

The Rise of Potato Vodka

The most well-known story about how potatoes made it to Poland was that King Jan Sobieski III brought them over from Vienna in 1683. In the next century, potatoes were officially recorded as a food item for sale when they were listed as an expensive import in the Krakow market in 1739. At the time, it was difficult to conceive of turning potatoes into vodka because of the number of technical issues to deal with. For one thing, grains were able to produce their own enzymes and convert starch into sugar, and then yeast could convert it into alcohol. Potatoes needed an additional step to make sure that the right amount of sugars could be produced for vodka.

By 1760, these issues seemed to have been worked out, as a distillery in the Kingdom of Prussia was the first to make potato vodka at scale and then improvements and potato distillation techniques spread throughout Europe towards the end of the eighteenth century. But the humble potato still wasn’t the main ingredient of choice for vodka. That came in the nineteenth century, when the potato became the main source of carbs at the Polish dinner table, replacing millet.

This was because they were cheap, easy to farm and grew out of even the poorest plots of land. Adding to the attractiveness of potato vodka was the incentives given in the 1860s for running agricultural distilleries on Polish lands. These distilleries were owned by individual landowners who farmed potatoes in the growing season on big plantations and distilled alcohol from the crop in small factories connected to the land in the off-season.

Plus, the advancement of distillation stills throughout the nineteenth century further increased the renown of potato vodka, speeding up processes and enabling distillers to turn a bigger profit.

At the height of the potato vodka craze in the nineteenth century, it eclipsed beer as the drink of choice among Polish peasants, as the price of vodka had been brought down dramatically by this wonderous carb. This wouldn’t remain the case forever; into the twentieth century, grain vodka started to come back into fashion.

There are a multitude of reasons for this, with one of the biggest being that the old manor systems and agricultural collectives were broken down by new political changes sweeping across Europe, with much of these changes happening in Russia and rippling outwards across Eastern Europe like a stone being dropped into a pond. Certainly by the 1900s, wodka had replaced gorzatka as the dominant phrase for vodka in Poland.

Here was another ripple effect from Russia, as wodka had become the word of choice there too and likely carried over.

Look out for part 2 coming in the next week or two,

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

When it comes to diverse spirits, rum deserves to be at the forefront of the conversation.

The range of flavour profiles is incredible and this diversity can provide a gateway into spirits that have similar qualities but are unique in their own right.

An example of this is kokuto shochu, a Japanese spirit that’s perfect for rum lovers.

What is shochu?

Shochu is Japan’s national spirit, distilled from a dizzying array of ingredients, which include sweet potato, barley, sesame seed, rice, buckwheat and more. As you can imagine, this range of base components create some truly phenomenal flavours that electrify the taste buds.

There are three main categories of shochu: honkaku, korui and konwa. Honkaku is single-distilled/authentic shochu and the stuff that should be on the top shelf of any liquor store.

Korui is a multi-distilled drink that’s blended with other ingredients like grapefruit and make for decent cocktails.

Konwa is a mixture of honkaku and korui, great for people who like both.

Kokuto: The superstar sugar

Kokuto is a high-quality, healthy sugar common in Japanese cooking. It contains a large amount of iron, potassium and calcium, which is thought to help to lower cholesterol and reduce stress. It’s also one of the most popular ingredients used to make shochu and this superstar sugar is key to understanding the differences between kokuto shochu and rum.

Often translated to black or brown sugar in English, these translations don’t do kokuto the justice it deserves for how versatile it is as a food source and alcohol primer. The literal translation of kokuto is black sugar, which is misleading because kokuto has a brown colour.

On the other hand, referring to kokuto as brown sugar gives it connotations of low-grade baking powder, so it’s important to understand how it’s sourced.

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Cultivating kokuto

Kokuto comes from a type of sugarcane called Saccharum officinarum, a robust varietal that originates in Okinawa Prefecture and the Amami Islands. The subtropical climates of both regions are ideal for the growth of Saccharum officinarum and the sugarcane is harvested by hand with a sickle.

Shochu expert Chris Pellegrini has written an in-depth article about how kokuto is produced. According to him, it’s a labour-intensive process that takes up to 18 months, as the sugarcane needs to fully mature, be hacked, pruned and checked.

The sugarcane is delivered to a kokuto factory, where it’s crushed, and the cane juice is simmered in a collection of pots. Then, the cane juice is boiled in vats, with the temperature gradually increasing. The vats are usually opened so the juice can flow into a new container.

At the end of this process, the cane juice has taken on a dark colour and looks like melted chocolate. Before the mixture hardens and cools it’s poured into a mould, solidifying. The hardened kokuto gives off grassy, mineral notes that’s similar to the profile of rhum agricole.

The history of kokuto shochu

With the proliferation and success of sweet potato shochu between the 17th and 19th centuries, kokuto shochu followed that wave in the Amami Islands.

From 1609, the Amami Islands were put under the direction of the Satsuma Domain and there are records of the domain levying shochu taxes. According to an exiled Satsuma samurai called Nagoya Sagenta, Amami islanders were making shochu out of chestnuts, chinquapins and Japanese sago plants, using the juices from crushed sugarcane.

Of all these varied ingredients, brown sugar seemed to be the most highly prized, as the Satsuma Domain owned the monopoly on it and commoners couldn’t handle it without permission.

After the Tokugawa Shogunate was overthrown in the Meiji Restoration of 1868, Japan began its ascent to becoming a world superpower and while the new government started unifying alcohol production, there still wasn’t any commercial brown sugar shochu production in the islands.

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The people of Amami continued to make shochu at home, a trend that followed all shochu to an extent, with Japan’s indigenous spirit hardly making it outside of Kagoshima.

This eventually lead to kokuto shochu getting a Geographical Indication (GI), much like Martinique rhum agricole does. It must be produced in the Amami Islands and be fermented with koji mould to be considered honkaku shochu. This is a key difference for setting kokuto shochu and rum apart, as koji is essential to the production process.

As kokuto is rich in molasses, it’s usually added to the second shochu fermentation. Slabs of the stuff arrive at distilleries, which is then melted in vats of hot water. The kokuto is then added to the fermentation once it’s been cooled.

Kokuto shochu vs rum quickfire comparison

• Shochu is a low ABV spirit that ranges between 25% – 45%. The ABV of rum can be much higher.

• Kokuto shochu is produced from a high-quality kind of sugar that is on the same level of rum sugarcane varietals like demerara and muscovado.

• Kokuto shochu requires koji to be used in the production process, while rum doesn’t.

• Kokuto shochu has similar tasting notes to rum, which ranges from molasses and treacle, to vegetables and minerals.

With punchy flavours and a low ABV percentage, kokuto shochu is an ideal drink for rum aficionados that are looking for something different.

It’s a highly accessible style of shochu that can open the floodgates into the category, leading you down a brand-new rabbit hole.

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

It’s no secret that agave spirits like tequila and mezcal are big business.

The UK has become one of the most popular markets, with a cavalcade of brands putting their own distinctive mark on the UK scene.

Mezcal Reina is a leader in this conversation. Founded by Susana Franyutti and Monica Torroella, Mezcal Reina is carving a respectable space in the UK agave spirits market. I caught up with Franyutti to see what makes the brand so special and one to watch for the future.

It’d be great just to start off with, how you got into agave spirits and where the idea for Mezcal Reina came from, along with your partnership with your business partner as well.

Monica and I have been friends since we were four years old. We went to the same school together, so that’s how we met. Then, serendipitously, we both ended up in the UK about 20 or 21 years ago for completely different reasons, but at the same time, which was absolutely fantastic for us. That coincidence prompted us to start thinking about building a business together. Initially, we explored a couple of different ideas, like opening a Mexican taquería or something along those lines. But around that time, we started hearing more and more hype about mezcal, and we realised that neither of us actually knew much about it. We had experience with tequila from back in the day, but mezcal wasn’t something we really understood.

So we decided to go back to Mexico and explore it properly. We travelled around, tried different mezcals, and quickly realised that what we thought mezcal was and what it actually is were completely different things. Our perception had been shaped by what was popular in the 1980s, the kind of mezcal with the worm, which wasn’t necessarily the best quality. But when we started tasting real mezcal, we discovered an incredible range of flavours depending on the agave variety, the production process, and the region. There’s so much complexity and that really captured our attention.

What truly made us fall in love, though, was visiting Oaxaca and seeing the production process firsthand. When you witness how much work goes into making mezcal, you realise how little most people understand about it. That’s where it developed from curiosity into a passion project. We wanted to elevate mezcal and help people learn what they’re actually drinking. From there, it organically evolved into a business, which is what it is today. And very happily, we’ve recently won two awards, gold for our espadín and Mezcal of the Year for our ensamble. So, it’s been an incredible journey.

That’s a fantastic start. Now, I’ve tried some of your core range. But for those who are unfamiliar with Mezcal Reina, what do you have in your portfolio and how is it made?

We started off with what, for us, was one of the most premium mezcals that you could possibly get, from a region of Sola De Vega where the tobala agave is endemic. We found a master distiller who was making the most delicious ancestral tobala, and that became our very first expression. When we brought it into the UK, it was, of course, an expensive product, and at the time not everybody really understood why.

People would look at a £300 bottle and think, how do I even begin to justify that? But when you start breaking it down, it’s an 18-year-old wild agave. The tobala agave became almost extinct because of overproduction in the 80s and 90s, and then had to be repopulated, so there’s a huge amount of history and scarcity behind it. On top of that, the entire process is completely handmade.

The product itself is absolutely beautiful. It doesn’t hit you with that aggressive smokiness that people often associate with mezcal. Instead, you get layers of flavour from the first sip, from the aroma in the glass, and then the texture. It’s very oily, incredibly elegant. So the product spoke for itself and people loved it, but the price point made it difficult to place, especially in bars. Direct-to-consumer, people were more willing to pay for it, but in a bar setting, asking someone to spend £50 on a shot is simply not viable from a business perspective.

That’s when we started thinking about how to make a style of mezcal more accessible and affordable. So we developed our ensamble. This is a blend of two agave plants. You’ve got a wild or semi-cultivated agave, a tobasiche, aged around 12 to 15 years, which is specific to a region in Oaxaca. Most people call it by one name of karwinskii, but in Oaxaca they use tobasiche, and the flavour profile shifts slightly because of that. Then we blend that with espadín, which makes up about 70% of the mix. espadín isn’t inferior. It’s still a beautiful agave, but it grows faster and is farmed more widely, so it brings the cost down.

By blending them, we’re able to give people the experience of those older, more complex wild agaves at a more approachable price point. That’s how the ensamble came about, and it’s been really important for us in terms of getting mezcal in front of more people, especially in bars.

Then we wanted to create something unique with a special edition mezcal. For that, we used arroqueno agave that takes around 22 to 25 years to mature. It’s not cultivated, so you have to go out and find it. That alone tells you how rare it is. The mezcal itself has incredible depth, very oily again, very layered. When we distilled it, it came out at 53% ABV, and when we tried to bring it down after the second distillation it said “no, if you touch me I won’t taste very good.” It lost something essential. So we decided to keep it at that strength.

We only produced around 248 bottles, and we collaborated with an amazing artist from Oaxaca, Sabino Guisu, to design the label. He has an incredible studio there, he creates everything from sculpture to woven art, and the whole project was about celebrating that craft heritage. It’s our most premium expression. It sells slowly, but when someone who really understands mezcal tries it, they immediately recognise it. They say it’s the best mezcal they’ve ever tasted, and that’s exactly what we wanted to achieve.

This was an email I received in my inbox this week from an author who’d read my book A History Of Alcoholic Spirits: How Our Favourite Tipples Changed The World.

If any of this sounds like your cup of tea, why not check the book out for yourself or your bar team? I wrote it as a resource to help bartenders improve their storytelling and knowledge of different brands.

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It’s great to hear the stories behind those products. Thinking more about the wider agave spirits market now, it’s clear that tequila and mezcal have been popular in the US for some time.

But what’s interesting for me is it seems the UK agave spirits market is rapidly maturing and developing its own character. What are your thoughts on any similarities or differences in the UK and US markets?

I don’t have a huge amount of experience with the US market. It’s not something we’ve really wanted to tap into, partly because it’s already very oversaturated. Being so close to Mexico, they had that initial wave of mezcal much earlier, and it’s obviously much easier logistically to move product into the US than it is all the way to the UK.

In the UK, I think there’s still a lot of misinformation about mezcal. People often think it’s just something like tequila, or a type of tequila, or it gets grouped together in that way. But in reality, tequila is a type of mezcal, not the other way around. That distinction still isn’t widely understood.

In the US, tequila helped create a framework for understanding agave spirits. People were already having conversations about different tequila styles, regions, and quality levels, whether something was from Los Altos, whether it was craft, how it was produced. There was already a segmentation in the market, with different categories and price points, which made it easier for mezcal to come in afterwards.

In the UK, we’re not there yet. For many people, tequila is still associated with having had a bad experience once and never wanting to touch it again. That perception carries over into mezcal. So when we’re trying to introduce mezcal, we’re also undoing those preconceptions as well as introducing a new category.

That’s why we’ve shifted how we explain it. Instead of comparing it to tequila, we compare it to whisky or wine. People understand smoky whisky, so that gives them a reference point. We explain that instead of ageing in barrels, mezcal is effectively aged in the plant itself over many years. We’re slowly adapting the way we communicate to fit the British mindset and help people understand the category on its own terms.

The agave spirits industry is traditionally seen as male-dominated. But it seems in recent years there is more female representation. What is your perspective on how women are treated in the industry and do you feel there is better representation?

It really depends on which part of the industry you’re talking about. In terms of production, especially distillation, it’s still very male-dominated, particularly in Mexico. We do work with a female master distiller, though, and her story is incredible. She took over after her husband passed away very young, leaving her with three children and a distillery. She built that into three distilleries, but it wasn’t easy. At the beginning, nobody would listen to her. She had to constantly fire people because they wouldn’t respect her authority, even though she was the master distiller.

Now she’s retired and has passed everything on to her son, but she’s still around, and it’s amazing to see what she built. At the same time, a lot of the administrative roles in distilleries are held by women like accounts, labelling and operations. So there is a space for women there that feels more natural, without needing to fight for it in the same way.

On the business side, being a female founder is challenging regardless of the industry. There’s still a tendency to assume that certain roles, particularly financial ones are held by men. I’ve had people ask to speak to my CFO, assuming it must be a man, even though I’m deeply involved in every aspect of the business. I didn’t start out knowing how to read a balance sheet, but after years of doing this, of course I can.

I also think a lot about how we build our team. I like working with women who have families, who are busy, because they tend to be incredibly efficient. They know how to manage their time, they’re focused, and they deliver. I want people to feel comfortable being honest. If their child is sick, they can say that, but they’ll still get their work done. That creates a very strong, loyal team. For example, our Head of Marketing has recently bought a house and she’s in the process of moving, and I know she’ll have taken care of everything even in that busy period and I’ll still give her the space she needs to sort out important milestones like that.

At the same time, there are challenges, especially working in nightlife environments. Lines can get crossed. I’ve been around a lot of drunk people and I’ve tried to be bubbly and I’ve had people misinterpret things. I’ve had situations where people behave in ways they wouldn’t with men like certain comments and inappropriate behaviour, and it’s something you have to navigate constantly.

Thanks for your candiness there. I think it’s important to share the true realities of what it’s like to work in the industry within specific contexts, as it can be helpful for others who are going through similar circumstances.

The agave spirits industry really is no stranger to controversy. I’d like to hear what you think of the regulations involved in mezcal.

I’m in two minds about this. If you had asked me a couple of years ago whether I was okay with something being labelled as an agave distillate instead of mezcal, I would have said absolutely not. For me back then, the certification was everything. It takes so much work, time, and money to get properly regulated and to carry that official certification, and there is a reason those structures are in place.

So my position used to be very clear. If it doesn’t have that certification, if it doesn’t have that official stamp, then it shouldn’t be considered mezcal.

But as I’ve spent more time in the industry and really got to know different producers, not just small ones, but producers in very complex situations, my perspective has changed. For example, in a conversation we’ve had, I was telling you about a distillery in Guerrero that we’re looking to work with. It’s not a small distillery at all, but their production remains limited because of where they’re located. They’re in a region where there are significant political and security issues. There are narco-related challenges, conflicts over land and power and that makes it incredibly difficult for them to operate freely, let alone expand.

Now, these producers make one of the best mezcals I’ve ever tasted. Truly exceptional. But they can’t get certified and it’s not because they don’t meet the standards. No certification body is willing to go where they are. It’s simply too dangerous because they are afraid they might get their heads chopped off by narcos. Realistically, if someone asked you to travel into the middle of the jungle in Guerrero, where there’s a genuine risk to your safety, you wouldn’t go either. Even if certification were technically possible, the cost would be enormous. They’d need security, insurance, convoys etc and it just becomes completely unfeasible.

In a case like that what do you do? We’ve made the decision that the product won’t be labelled as mezcal. We’re going to label it as agave wine Historically, that’s not inaccurate. The earliest versions of these spirits weren’t even called mezcal. The name came later, and there are stories about how distillation techniques were introduced, even influenced by Filipino methods brought over during colonial times. So the terminology itself has evolved.

For me now, what matters most is transparency and integrity. If we bring something like that to market, we’re clear about what it is. We’re not trying to pass it off as something it isn’t. But at the same time, I’m not going to dismiss the quality of that product just because it doesn’t carry a certification that, in this case, is impossible for them to obtain.

This is where it becomes more complex, because certification systems themselves are not always perfect. You start to see how power structures work, how large players can influence things, and it raises questions. We’ve seen this in other categories. There are ongoing debates around tequila, for example, around what is allowed under certification versus what should be allowed. So you begin to realise that a label alone doesn’t always tell the full story.

That’s why, for us, it goes much deeper. It’s about knowing the producer, understanding their ethos, and looking at the full process. Are they farming responsibly? Are they using seed propagation instead of just cloning agaves? How are they handling waste? Are they composting the leftover fibres instead of burning them and creating pollution? Are they reusing water during distillation rather than wasting it?

All of these factors matter. There’s so much that goes into producing a good mezcal or agave spirit that goes far beyond what’s on the label. So yes, certification is important, and if it’s possible to obtain it, it absolutely should be there. But it’s not the only measure of quality anymore. It really comes down to trust, relationships, and a deep understanding of how that product is made from beginning to end.

You also have some upcoming RTD products coming out. What are they and why did you create them?

We’re bringing out a Paloma and a mezcalita RTD, and we’re really excited about them. The mezcalita is interesting because we’re not using triple sec. It will only have the mezcal, alongside chinotto fruit, which gives it a much cleaner, more authentic taste.

The reason we decided to go into RTDs comes back to accessibility. Mezcal, as much as we love it, can be intimidating. It’s expensive, it’s strong, and for a lot of people in the UK, it’s still unfamiliar. So the question for us was: how do we introduce mezcal to people in a way that doesn’t scare them off?

Cocktails are the obvious answer, because the UK is a cocktail-driven market. People are comfortable with them, they enjoy them, and they understand them. So by putting mezcal into a ready-to-drink format, we’re giving people an easy entry point. You don’t need to know how to mix anything, you don’t need to understand the category. All you need to do is open it, pour it over ice, and enjoy it.

At the same time, consistency is important. With an RTD, you know that every time you drink it, the balance is going to be right. That’s not always guaranteed if you’re ordering a cocktail somewhere, depending on who’s making it. So there’s a real advantage there as well.

It’s been a long process to get to this point, because there are so many factors to consider like flavour stability, shelf life, balance, making sure it still represents the quality of the mezcal itself. But we’ve taken the time to get it right, and we’re confident in the result. For us, it’s about creating a gateway into mezcal that still respects the integrity of the spirit.

That’s exciting stuff. Looking to the future, what makes you hopeful for the mezcal industry in the UK market?

What makes me hopeful, more than anything, is that people are genuinely interested. There’s a real thirst excuse the pun for knowledge. People want to understand what they’re drinking now in a way that they didn’t before. We’ve definitely shifted away from a culture of just drinking for the sake of it, towards something much more conscious and considered.

Consumers are asking more questions. They’re thinking about what they’re putting into their bodies. They care about quality, about ingredients, about whether something has additives or not. And mezcal fits very well into that conversation because, when it’s done properly, it’s a very clean spirit. There are no additives, no artificial flavourings. It’s the agave, the process, and time.

Even things like calorie content come up now, which might sound a bit superficial at first, but it’s quite telling. I had someone ask me recently how mezcal compares to gin in terms of calories, and when I explained that it generally has less sugar and fewer calories, her response was immediately, “Oh, then I have to try it.” So these details matter to people, and they’re part of a broader shift in how we think about consumption.

What’s encouraging is that people are starting to prioritise quality over quantity. They’re willing to drink less, but better. They want something with a story, with provenance, with integrity. And mezcal, when it’s positioned and explained properly, offers all of that.

So for me, that’s where the optimism comes from. It’s not about rapid growth or hype. What matters is a deeper, more meaningful engagement with the category. I think that gives mezcal a really strong foundation to grow in the UK in a sustainable way.

Sharing the stories of women-led alcohol brands is a big part of Drink To That. If you know any brands that I should be covering, write in to infodrinktothat@gmail.com

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

We’ve reached the end point of my series about famous historical bartenders for now. On this journey, we’ve looked at how American cocktail culture began through the likes of the eccentric Jerry Thomas and how the craft evolved in the hands of folks like the gentleman bartender William Schmidt and firecracker first lady of bartending Ada Coleman.

And when discussing the early history of spirits and cocktails, it’s easy to fall into the trap of seeing it being shaped by a bunch of dead white guys. This is the furthest thing from the truth, as there have been many bartenders in the African American community that have defined the culture.

One of the loudest voices was a man named Thomas Bullock. Born in Louisville, Kentucky in 1872, Bullock wasn’t the first black bartender to be recognised for his skills. Across the history of slavery in the United States, there would have been generations of black people serving drinks that have been forgotten, but are no less important. Bullock was the first black bartender to publish a cocktail book called The Ideal Bartender. As the son of a former slave who fought for the Union Army in the Civil War, Bullock’s trajectory into bartending can be contextualised through the area and culture in which he grew up.

During the war, Louisville had been a Union stronghold and after it was over the city attracted ex-Confederates. With so many rebels flooding into the city, it wasn’t only a matter of time before they came to define Louisville’s culture.

According to historian George C. Wright, “It seems that a part of the rite of passage into the business world of the city was to have been an officer of the Confederacy. Nearly all of Louisville’s journalists, lawyers, realtors and merchants were former rebels.”

A tradition that came out of this culture was the common use of black bartenders. This was in direct contrast with Northern cities that barred black people from serving in drinking establishments that weren’t catering to black patrons. Competition was fierce in bartending. It was a great opportunity for enterprising young men to rub shoulders with well-connected people in luxurious venues, and so the position was limited to white men in major northern cities.

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Cocktail historian David Wondrich adds: “in the North, black bartenders were seen as competition and shut out entirely. In Southern- leaning cities like Louisville and St Louis, the situation was different. They had a history of using African Americans in all types of serving positions.”

An inquisitive, energetic man, Bullock seized on any opportunity he could to create a better life for himself. His first job in hospitality was as a bell boy at the prestigious Pendennis Club, perhaps Kentucky’s finest gentleman’s club, where the country’s elite broke bread and drank together. Bullock worked his way up to the bar, developing his craft to the point where the Southern businessman George Walker Bush, whose descendants would serve as Presidents of the United States, wrote an introduction in Bullock’s cocktail book that said “Tom, than whom there is no greater mixologist of any race, colour or condition of servitude.”

This book was The Ideal Bartender, a window into Pre-Prohibition drinking culture and cocktail recipes that have become fused into myth and legend. For example, the Old Fashioned recipe that Bullock featured in the book has been called the first Old Fashioned in some circles. The legend goes that Bullock had a hand in developing the recipe alongside a Pendennis Club member called James E. Pepper. However, there have been Old Fashioned recipes that pre-date the Pendennis Club version.

Another cocktail Bullock became famous for was Mint Juleps. There are two recipes in his book – St Louis style and Kentucky style. The former was probably perfected during Bullock’s time at the St Louis Country Club, a mixture of gin, lemon, lime juice and Grenadine. The latter was likely made while he was still working at the Pendennis. Interestingly, The Ideal Bartender might never have made it to publication without the controversy of one President’s drinking habits. In the election of 1912, Theodore Roosevelt had to deal with rumours that he was a closeted drunk. A newspaper editor George Newett decided to stir the pot by writing an article about Roosevelt’s drunkenness after hearing a speech.

Newitt wrote: “Roosevelt lies and curses in a most disgusting way. He gets drunk too and that not infrequently and all of his intimates know about it.” Roosevelt sued for libel, eventually admitting that he had only taken a couple of sips of Mint Juleps at the St Louis Country Club. Another journalist decided to have fun at Roosevelt’s expense, penning an article that referred to Bullock’s Mint Juleps being so good that Roosevelt surely had to be lying and that he’d drank all the cocktails when they were served to him. In the end, Roosevelt won his libel case and that put Bullock and his juleps on the map, aiding in the publication of The Ideal Bartender.

By 1917, Bullock was as popular as he was ever going to be. Prohibition damaged his career, though it’s thought he stayed on at the St Louis Country Club for several years, even if his duties aren’t known. Bullock disappeared from the public record after Prohibition, with it generally being believed that he died in 1964. Bullock and his book might never have been rediscovered if not for writer Dianna Seay, who published two books inspired by The Ideal Bartender in the early 2000s called 173 Pre-Prohibition Cocktails: Potations So Good They Scandalised A President and Classic Cocktails: Over 170 Drinks From Yesteryear that You Can Enjoy Today.

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Since then, a renewed interest in Bullock and his career has blossomed across the bar scene. In 2013, D’USSE Cognac created the Tom Bullock Award for Distinguished Service in Washington. In 2017, Louisville brandy distillery Copper & Kings started The Ideal Bartender School, a hub of spirits and cocktail education for young bartenders. In 2019, a Bullock mural was painted on a restaurant of a major Urban Bourbon Trail restaurant down the street from the site of the original Pendennis Club. Henderson Spirits Group have also created a bourbon and gin line called Tom Bullock’s.

The brand story and copy taps into Bullock’s life. Written in the first person, there’s a passage on the website that does a decent attempt at summarising Bullock’s importance to bartending:

At a time when a black man could hardly walk into a ‘white’ bar, I was the reigning king. I was not only allowed IN the bar, but people came to the bar FOR me – in order to sample my cocktails, shake my hand and get me to sign my book for them … I realised a few things behind the bar … Superb cocktails inspire all types of people to congregate … Being a true Tastemaster is about breaking down preconceived ideas and bringing new flavours together … the same is true for bringing people together.

If you’ve been following this series, it’d be great to hear which of the bartender profiles you’ve found the most interesting or have learned some new things from.

You can write to me at infodrinktothat@gmail.com to share your thoughts.

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That Reader,

We continue with an exploration of legendary bartenders this week.

For all the men that have earned their stripes as bartending legends, there’s no shortage of women breaking down barriers and doing incredible things with cocktails.

There’s a long list of talented women changing the face of the industry today like Mia Kumari, winner of the 2023 International Wine and Spirits Competition Emerging Talent competition; Chelsie Bailey, mixologist master and former head of The Savoy’s American Bar; Kat Stanley-Whyte, agave spirits maestro; Monica Berg, Norwegian bartending extraordinaire; Joy Perrine, Kentucky Bourbon Hall of Fame alumni; Pamela Wiznitzer, powerhouse drinks consultant out of New York; Erika Haigh, owner of the UK’s first sake bar Moto, and so many others.

The foundations for empowerment of women in the bartending industry can arguably be traced back to a firebrand from London who not only broke the mould of what a ‘barmaid’ could and should be, but she defined the cocktail-making culture of the UK, long before Harry Craddock set foot in The Savoy. Her name was Ada Coleman and she was the First Lady Of Bartending.

Born in 1875 to a steward who worked at a golf club owned by the famous hotelier Rupert D’Oyly Carte, ‘Coley’ as she would affectionally be known by her patrons, entered bartending in her early twenties. Her father had died and she needed to supplement her income and was given a job by Carte at the Claridge’s Hotel.

At 24, Coleman had almost hit the age-ceiling for entry level women bartenders, or barmaids in the common parlance of the time. Anyone older than 25 would likely have been turned away and this sheds some light on the inequality and prejudice that women faced at the bar (and still do).

In the early twentieth century, the typical image of a barmaid was the daughter of a tradesman or a young woman who came from a higher class that had needed to rely on themselves to earn a living. Many women saw bartending as a more lucrative job than what was generally available for them at the time. They wanted to be involved in the industry, even as campaigns tried to restrict them on the grounds that the job was bad for them physically and that it was a sign of moral decay.

Coleman didn’t let any preconceived notions stop her, even though ‘her fame behind the bar came about with more serendipity than use of any conventional professional inroads for the ladies’, according to writer Emily Bell. She proved to be a quick study, learning to mix drinks with the help of the Claridge’s wine butler. By Coleman’s admission, the first cocktail she ever made was a Manhattan. It wasn’t long before her diligence caught the attention of the Savoy and she was set up at the American Bar, becoming head bartender in1 903. The reason was likely a combination of her natural charm and drink-making ability.

Coley was known as the life of the party, with a personality that bordered on the theatrical. The party didn’t stop at the American Bar. Ever the hostess, Coleman held get-togethers at her home and served famous names like Mark Twain, Marlene Dietrich and Charlie Chaplin when she was at the bar.

While Coleman made memorable cocktails, the one she’ll be remembered for the most is the Hanky Panky, a mix of gin, sweet vermouth and fernet-branca topped with an orange peel. Coleman said she made it for the comic actor Charley Hawtrey (not the one of Carry On fame), calling him ‘one of the best judges of cocktails that I knew. Some years ago, when he was overworking, he used to come into the bar and say ‘Coley, I am tired. Give me something with a bit of punch in it.’ When Hawtrey next came to the bar, she had a new drink for him to try, exclaiming ‘By Jove! This is the real hanky panky!’

Coleman’s time at The American Bar wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. She had to put up with her fair share of sexism. There’s been many rumours of Coleman’s working relationship with Harry Craddock, who came into The American Bar to either work under her initially, or replace her altogether as the head bartender.

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And with Coley’s fame, it’s all too easy to forget that there was another woman working at The American Bar alongside her called Ruth Burgess. Reports from the time claim that Burgess was as popular with patrons as Coleman and the main reason why Coleman is remembered most is because she was asked to be interviewed by the media when she retired.

One newspaper account reveals that they worked different shifts for twenty years without speaking to each other and there was an intense rivalry between them: ‘For over twenty years they have worked in the same little corner, handled the same bottles and beamed on the same good friends – without speaking to each other … Men have long been puzzled over this unhappy state of affairs. Each was so jolly and sympathetic, each had such a pleasant personality that it was hard to realise they could never befriends … they kept their own hours, totalled their own accounts and when on duty at the same time could scarcely take two steps without brushing each other, but there never came a sign of recognition.’

In the same account, it’s claimed that the animosity between Burgess and Coleman was because Burgess didn’t know how to make her cocktails. ‘She asked Coley to give her the ingredients and Coley, with perhaps justifiable professional pride, refused.’

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Could this feud have been fanned by male colleagues or blown out of proportion? It’s possible. Both Coleman and Burgess were made to retire from the Savoy around the same time and then Craddock moved into the position of head bartender. Whatever happened, Coleman took the news gracefully and stepped down, with a popular theory being that she moved to the Savoy’s flower shop, though no staff at the hotel have found any evidence of that ever being the case.

She lived to be 91, passing away in 1996 as another wave of mixology was gearing up. Today, Coleman is rightfully celebrated as a pioneer and symbol of a woman’s right to work in hospitality.

A recent example of her legacy inaction is the launch of The Ada Coleman Project by Kristine Bocchino and Kaitlin Wilkes. This digital space has been designed to empower women through mentorship opportunities, networking and workshops in hospitality. As both have explained: ‘The platform aims to foster gender equality and diversity within the industry while offering an array of essential resources, including educational content, health resources and job listings.’

However, the standout feature of The Ada Coleman Project is its rotating database of accomplished women in the drinks industry. Updated biannually, the database showcases both veteran and rising stars from diverse backgrounds and areas of expertise. Presented alphabetically to avoid ranking, it serves as a valuable tool for event organisers, competition hosts, bar owners and writers seeking to diversify their talent pool for collaborations and editorials.

The creation of this initiative is another step in the right direction for gender equality in hospitality, a path forged by Coleman and every other female bartender doing their thing.

Dear Drink To That reader,

Picking up from last week in my investigation of history’s most famous bartenders with my focus on William Schmidt, this week we’re looking at what happens when an Englishman leaves his mark on America and America leaves its mark on him.

Schmidt wasn’t the only foreigner to make a mark on the world of American bartending. A white-jacketed English dynamo by the name of Harry Craddock, who worked a bar like a preacher does a pulpit, became a legend in his own right, transplanting American cocktail culture into an English aesthetic and transforming the hospitality scene in London forever.

Born in 1875 in Stroud, Gloucestershire, Craddock moved to the US in 1897, taking up his bartending apprenticeship at the Hollenden Hotel in Cleveland, Ohio, and the Knickerbocker Hotel in New York. These early experiences instilled a powerful work ethic in Craddock and an American accent that would stay with him for the rest of his life. By 1916, Craddock had become a naturalised American citizen and stayed until 1920, when he packed up his bags in the chaos of Prohibition, poured and served the last legal cocktail in New York (according to legend) and returned to England.

Craddock’s homecoming was well-timed. The UK hospitality scene, especially in London, seemed trapped in stagnation. Dusty bars felt like mausoleums and some customers longed for the excitement and liveliness they heard in stories coming over from the Atlantic about speakeasies and illicit drinking activities, even though alcohol was perfectly legal in England.

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There was one reliable place in the capital for sating thirst, curiosity and adventure. The American Bar at the Savoy Hotel, an art-deco paradise, was the beating heart of a new wave of drinking culture. With his American accent, bartending skills and old-world charm, Craddock was the perfect addition to the Savoy, quickly rising to the head honcho of The American Bar. Here, Craddock would build his name as “The Dean of Cocktail Shakers”, serving royalty and pouring for movie stars like Ava Gardner, Charlie Chaplin and Errol Flynn.

He epitomised a hospitality mindset that ‘went beyond the call of duty’ according to drinks historian Jared Brown. In his biography of Craddock, Brown recalls a story about him spending $60 on a transatlantic call to supply a loyal customer with a favourite cocktail recipe. “That is the essence of being a hotel bartender. You extend the caring for your guests beyond the time they are under your roof.”

Craddock was a man on a mission. He was determined to promote the culture of the Savoy and the beauty of cocktails far and wide and to do that he’d publish arguably the most well-distributed bartender’s book in the world, The Savoy Cocktail Book.

Containing all of Craddock’s drink wisdom, wry wit and cultural observations, the book has remained in publication to this day, serving as an inspiration for bartenders of all backgrounds. In promoting the book, Craddock showed himself to be a master publicist. Once, a government commission voiced their dislike of the growing cocktail culture. Craddock put out an editorial piece, offering £50 to any committee member who could try one of his drinks and not find their lunch and dinner greatly enhanced.

On a return visit to New York, Craddock got in touch with as many of the city’s luminaries as he could so they could form a group that would show him around New York’s best watering holes. The press picked it up and his book was covered extensively. Unfortunately, he never earned any money from it.

Craddock’s cocktails were as lively and memorable as the man himself. Two of the most iconic recipes he committed to his book were: the Corpse Reviver No.2, a heady combo of gin, lemon juice, Lillet Blanc, triple sec and a splash of absinthe; and the White Lady, a mix of gin, lemon juice and Cointreau, which was possibly a precursor to the Cosmo. The White Lady is especially legendary, perhaps because it’s the cocktail most associated with Craddock’s habit of burying booze- filled shakers in the walls of the bars he worked at.

In 1927, he entombed a White Lady shaker in the American Bar that has never been found. After Prohibition was repealed, Craddock was invited back to the US and he refused. He was content where he was. London needed him and he needed London. His next project was to set up the UK Bartenders Guild in 1934, introducing the novel concept of bartender training infused with the spirit of American hospitality. This was a revolutionary idea that helped change the face of England’s bar scene forever, turning stuffy venues into world-class cocktail destinations.

By 1938, Craddock wanted to spread his wings. He moved from the Savoy to the Dorchester Hotel, where he served the likes of President Eisenhower when the hotel became the American military headquarters in the Second World War. The Dean of Cocktail Shakers finally decided to hang up his bar tools in 1947 and retired.

On his death in 1963, Craddock didn’t get the send-off he deserved, or perhaps it was his wish to shuffle off this mortal coil without pomp and circumstance, to let his drinks be the testament of his memory. He was buried in a pauper’s grave in Gunnersbury cemetery in West London.

Still, Craddock has maintained his larger-than-life persona at the epicentre of cocktail culture in England and the US. A cocktail time capsule of his work can be found at the Savoy Museum next to The American Bar, with instructions for it to be opened in 2063. He will forever remain an influence on mixologists and bartenders looking to leave their own mark.

As Peter Dorelli, the head bartender of the American Bar from 1985 to 2003 observed: “As a bartender at the Savoy, you must always remember you are part of the bigger picture; you are carrying on a legacy. When a person arrives at a hotel, one of the first things they do is go to the bar, so you are the first point of contact, the ambassador.”

Craddock was the embodiment of this ambassadorship, a valuable lesson to learn no matter the style of bar or venue.

Let me know who some of your favourite bartenders are. It could be someone historical, someone modern and established, or an up and comer in your favourite bar.

Write in to infodrinktothat@gmail.com

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

This week, I’m continuing my investigation into some of history’s greatest bartenders both well-known and obscure.

The focus of today’s deep dive had the nickname of the Only William. While showmen like Jerry Thomas and William ‘Cocktail’ Boothby were known for their colourful antics and personalities, arguably the first bartender to be recognised more for the strength and crafting of his cocktails was a man called William Schmidt.

Born in Heide, Germany, Schmidt was a gentleman bartender with an elaborate moustache, fine manners and an even finer manner of speech. Schmidt came to America at some point in 1868, leaving behind – according to him – a life of wealth. He settled in Chicago and ended up as the bar manager at the Tivoli Garden, the Windy City’s biggest, glitziest beer hall until it shut in 1882.

While working at the Tivoli, Schmidt was known for crafting pyramids of glasses festooned with fruits and flowers that brought people to the bar so he could knock their socks off with beautifully made drinks. After his stint in Chicago, Schmidt moved out to New York where he worked in a saloon called George Hillen’s Bridge Exchange next to Brooklyn Bridge.

Here, he caught the attention of a reporter from the New York Sun in 1888, who got a front-row seat to Schmidt’s bartending style that consisted of an elegant simplicity that didn’t need the flashiness of a contemporary like Jerry Thomas to draw someone in.

A small favour

It’s no secret that the hospitality industry has been going through a rough patch for some time now in the UK. The cost of living, tighter budgets and less people drinking out are all having a knock on effect.

This is impacting staff in the industry and charities like The Drink Trust are on the frontline of helping people in the industry train, get jobs and fund financial and mental wellbeing programmes.

I’m fundraising for The Drinks Trust this year and I’d appreciate your help.

On September 25th, I’m taking part in the Manchester Canals Challenge, where I’ll be walking 14 miles across the Manchester canal system, with the aim of raising a minimum of £400 to help The Drinks Trust continue to help struggling hospitality businesses.

Below is a donation button that will take you to my fundraising page. Please donate as much or as little as you can spare.

Help me raise £400 for The Drinks Trust

From this display, Schmidt had several articles written about him for the Sun and New York World, establishing his reputation under names like “William of the Bridge”, “William the Learned” and his most enduring nickname, The “Only William” In 1889, Schmidt returned to Hamburg to visit his parents.

In another life, he might have stayed in Europe, as he was offered many jobs that piqued his interest, with the most notable being the directorship of the bar in the newly constructed Eiffel Tower. Yet New York beckoned him back and he opened his own bar on Broadway, above Park Row. Unfortunately, the bar failed and had to be sold.

Though Schmidt couldn’t just walk away from what he’d created. He stayed on as head bartender, plying his trade as he always did, chatting to patrons with his grand and eloquent speech, mixing unusual drinks and courting the attention of the press.

By 1892, The Only William had a hankering to put his recipes down in print and published The Flowing Bowl, a cocktail book that cemented his legacy with its intriguing content on historical beverages, Greco- Roman banquets and sample menus with drink pairings.

Wondrich recalls his experience of reading the book for the first time:

“It was like reading a cookbook from ancient Rome. There were splashes of crime de roses, Calisaya, tonic phosphate and all kinds of other oddball things ... And plenty of recipes with ten ingredients, and others that required you to stencil on nutmeg garnish. And the names! Nothing simple like Aviation for him; think instead The Broker’s Thought and Absinthe aux Dieux."

Schmidt saw every cocktail he made as a musical number to be served with harmony, putting this philosophy into his book: “Mixed drinks might be compared to music: an orchestra will produce good music, provided all players are artists; but have only one or two inferior musicians in your band and you may be convinced they will spoil the entire harmony.”

At the turn of the twentieth century, Schmidt found himself among the last of a dying breed. His type of mixology was being replaced by minimalist aesthetics.

Nevertheless, the Gentleman Bartender soldiered on. He never stopped believing that a “man in my profession should never forget that he is a gentleman. However well-mixed a drink is, much of the flavour will be lost unless politeness is added. A true artist should infuse courtesy and quality into all his liquid pictures.”

He kept going until his employer forced him out of the bar he’d once owned; he died of dementia in 1904. But Schmidt wouldn’t be consigned to obscurity; after reading an obituary that said Schmidt had no family in the US to claim his remains, loyal customers and friends retrieved his body from the Manhattan hospital where he’d died.

They raised funds and gave him a send-off with a proper funeral, ensuring Schmidt’s legacy as one of the most talented bartenders of all time would be honoured.

Let me know who some of your favourite bartenders are. It could be someone historical, someone modern and established, or an up and comer in your favourite bar.

Write in to infodrinktothat@gmail.com

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

History is full of colourful characters that took up a position behind a bar one day and made themselves unforgettable either with the force of their personality or the sheer mad genius of their drinks.

After Jerry Thomas ushered in the half-high art, half-money-making machine of mixing drinks, the First Golden Wave of cocktails swept the US and hopped aboard passenger ships and planes to Europe and beyond in a fever pitch of excitement that reached a peak in the 1920s and ‘30s.

Iconic cocktails like the Mint Julep, Old Fashioned, Martini, Negroni and Daiquiri were all forged in a crucible of bartenders regularly pushing the envelope. William ‘Cocktail’ Boothby was another giant who made all this possible.

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Sometimes called the patron saint of California bartenders, Boothby’s talent for making drinks was matched only by the size of his ego. Born into a family of Forty-Niner hustlers in 1862, Boothby learned from the can-do spirit of his parents early on.

In his twenties, he went through a string of colourful jobs, including vaudeville jig dancer, tailor, real estate agent and ‘patent medicine’ salesman. Once, he spoke of the virtues of a magical remedy called Dr McConkey’s Vigour of Life liver pills and as you can imagine, local journalists had a field-day whenever they caught him spinning a yarn or hucking another miracle cure-all.

By the time he was 30, Boothby had also worked up some experience behind a bar and published the first edition of his book Cocktail Boothby’s American Bartender. But not that much experience - he’d only worked at the Silver Palace on Geary Street in San Francisco and a few out-of- town resorts.

Despite being a greenhorn to the back bar, Boothby never wavered in confidence. He was prone to advertising his book whenever he could, using a favoured ad line of: ‘Bar-Keepers - You’re Not In It If You Don’t Read Cocktail Boothby’s American Bartender.’ By the time the book had come out in 1891, Boothby had taken to calling himself ‘the Presiding Deity’ of the glamorous Hotel Rafael in San Rafael.

After another decade, Boothby brought out the second edition of the book with some additional drink recipes and was busy plying his god-like powers in San Francisco’s iconic Parker House. He’d also earned himself the name of the Honourable William T. Boothby by serving as a Republican candidate for the 43rd Assembly District for a year. It was a title he would carry with him for the rest of his life and contributed to his image as a local celebrity at the Parker House. He even hung a picture of himself dressed like a rooster on the outside wall of the bar.

Then came the earthquake and fire of 1906 that devastated San Francisco, which destroyed the Parker House and the printing plates of Boothby’s books. This meant Honourable Bill had to start from scratch and so the third edition in 1908 contained more new recipes, making sure the work of various bartenders wouldn’t be lost to history. Boothby was so cheery about the third edition that he dedicated it ‘to all the liquor dealers of San Francisco who unanimously assisted in my election to the Legislature by an unprecedented majority.’

In context, the San Francisco of the time was awash with booze and the man who had the city in a chokehold was J.C. ‘Fat Jack’ O’Connor, who organised his brigade of ‘saloon men’ like they were a political outfit. Boothby went out of his way to support all initiatives that would increase drinking in the city. In 1914, Boothby climbed to the bartender’s equivalent of Mount Olympus as head of the Pied Piper bar in The Palace Hotel.

An interesting story from his time here involved stopping a fight between French and German customers by creating a Peace Cocktail with ingredients from across Europe as a panacea against the oncoming war. Boothby wasn’t one to let a war stop him from serving drinks, any more than he’d allow a complete ban on alcohol to get in his way.

Unlike so many other bartenders who moved to Pasture’s new or changed careers when the Volstead Act hit in 1919, Honourable Bill stayed put and kept right on pouring and serving alcohol until he couldn’t anymore. In 1922, he was finally arrested for breaking the Act. With the help of friends, Boothby got a job mixing soft drinks.

Boothby died of cancer in 1930, and at his funeral on the 4th August roughly 100 bartenders from all over America came to pay their respects. From one account, the mourners drank to his memory with a Boothby classic, a Manhattan with a punch of champagne. In the words of that person, it was ‘a drink that never gods on high Olympus quaffed.’

Let me know who some of your favourite bartenders are. It could be someone historical, someone modern and established, or an up and comer in your favourite bar.

Write in to infodrinktothat@gmail.com

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Dear Drink To That reader,

What is a bartender?

Friend at the bar. Counsellor. Shoulder to cry on. Stranger to share good news with. Interlocutor. They can wear all of these hats at once or none at all.

The fact is the hospitality industry can’t work without them and there wouldn’t be any creativity or innovation in any drinks category.

Bartenders have always been at the centre of drink revolutions, developing cocktails that have stood the test of time and running bars that have become the stuff of legend.

Over the next few weeks of the newsletter, I’ll be sharing profiles on some of history’s most colourful and iconic drink slingers and examine their contributions to the spirits zeitgeist.

A fitting place to start is with the godfather of cocktail making.

JERRY THOMAS DEAD – New York’s Famous Old Barkeeper a Victim of Apoplexy

Splashed across the front page of the New York paper The World on 15 December 1885, this headline signalled the end of an era and the beginning of a new one. Jerry ‘The Professor’ Thomas, the founding father of American cocktail culture, had died not long after leaving New York’s Hotel Brighton at Broadway and 42nd Street. When Thomas got through the door of his home, he collapsed and died of a stroke, aged 55.

It was an ignoble end for a man who had lived an iconic American life long before he became famous behind the bar. A journeyman sailor, gold prospector, art collector, gambler and theatrical impresario, Thomas was a man of many professions and contradictions.

He also set the gold standard for cocktails, serving etiquette and American bar styles all over the world, cementing his legacy in the first bartender’s guide: How to Mix Drinks/The Bon Vivant’s Companion in 1862.

Born in 1830 in Sacketts Harbour, New York, Thomas got a taste for travelling early when his family moved out to New Haven, Connecticut. At 15, Thomas was plying his craft as an assistant bartender at a leading hotel in the city called the Park House, under the watchful eye of his older brother David, serving the young men of Yale who rubbed shoulders with mercurial bankers and hard-bitten sailors.

After a few years, Thomas’ thirst for fortune and quest to slake his creativity sent him out west and he boarded a boat at 19 years old in 1849. His final destination on this trip was San Francisco, a city caught up in the mania of the Gold Rush, and instead of breaking his back in the dirt like so many other prospectors, Thomas saw there was golden opportunity to be found in what he’d always done best.

Joining the El Dorado hotel in Portsmouth Square, Thomas settled in and this is where many of the legends about his life first began. In an era of gunslingers, Thomas was a drink slinger who was as quick with his mind as he was with his mouth and fists. One story claims that a gang of desperados came into the El Dorado bar to steal everything that wasn’t nailed down.

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Thomas offered them a drink of lethally mixed ingredients that knocked them on their asses. Because of Thomas’ quick thinking, the local militia were able to arrest the gang and sentence them to death. Another story tells of how Thomas put his reputation on the line when a giant gold miner demanded he make a drink to remember.

Telling the man to come back in an hour, Thomas poured out a full tumbler of Scotch, filled another with near-boiling water and grabbed a sulphur match. He lit it, ignited the whisky and passed the flaming liquid into the other tumbler, creating a blue firestorm that settled into a glass. To top off the still-smoking drink, Thomas put in a dash of sugar and lime and presented it to the gobsmacked miner, who took a swig and keeled over. And so, the legendary Blue Blazer cocktail was born.

Thomas’ mad genius sparked ‘the first American culinary art’ of mixing drinks, according to Imbibe! author David Wondrich; ‘It was the first American cultural product to catch the world’s imagination,’ a product Thomas doubled down on with the flair and panache of a salesman magician.

In 1851, he went into show business, organising some of the earliest touring musicals in California. Dressed in flashy jewellery and never seen without his bar tools and cups embellished with precious stones and metals, Thomas went back to New York to open a saloon beneath Barnum’s American Museum, the first of the four New York establishments he would run.

Around this point, Thomas was earning $100 a week – more than the Vice President of the US. But for all his grandstanding and flair, Thomas could never hold on to his wealth. He was a man who loved ‘the sporting life’ – owning and betting on fast horses, bare-knuckle fights and any other speculative activity he could turn his hand to. He was a member of the tribe of men who flaunted a veneer of wealth to disguise their poverty, who could win big one day and be broke again the next. Still, no one could ever say the life of a sporting man wasn’t adventurous.

Thomas carried on building his bar empire, opening another New York tavern in 1860. Here he served distinguished guests like Queen Victoria’s son, Edward Prince of Wales. So eager to be served by the ‘Napoleon of Bar Keepers’, Edward snuck out of his hotel one night to drink Mint Juleps by the one and only Thomas. In the morning, he was found stumbling alone in the streets. In 1862, Thomas distilled his teachings and recipes into the first ever drinks book published in the US. How To Mix Drinks contained knowledge that until that year had only been passed down through oral traditions on the early days of cocktails.

Thomas included many of his own recipes and might have been able to grow fat and rich off his reputation and position at the Occidental Hotel in San Francisco. After all, he’d well and truly established himself as ‘the Jupiter Olympus of the bar’ and had nothing to prove. Alas, the sporting life forever beckoned and Thomas returned to his rambling ways. His next stop? Virginia City, Nevada.

According to Wondrich: ‘The fortunes of Thomas’ book were likely affected by the Professor’s next move: rather than stay at the Occidental (SF), where he could have passed the volume along to the steady stream of clay-moistening literati who stopped in at his bar, he pulled up stakes yet again and headed east to witness the vast and vulgar spectacle that was unfolding 200 miles away in Virginia City, Nevada where a city of 30,000 had sprung up overnight on top of the massive mountain of silver known as the Comstock Lode.

By 1864, Thomas was there, either (as local legend has it) at the famous Delta Saloon or at the Spalding Saloon on C Street, where the city directory found him – or, of course, at both.’

Towards the end of his life, Thomas tried speculating on Wall Street and was left broke because of bad decisions. Forced to sell off an impressive art collection he’d made over the years, the father of mixology’s star had dimmed, evident from his struggle to open a new bar that didn’t reach the popularity of his previous venues. Then came his unceremonious stroke, but The Professor would not be forgotten.

An outpouring of obituaries came out around the country for Thomas and there would never be another like him. His flair for bartending kicked open the door for countless others to follow in his footsteps.

What are your thoughts on Thomas’ contributions to bartending and drink history? Write in to infodrinktothat@gmail.com to let me know.

Cheers to you,

Jamie

Another year, another edition of Northern Restaurant and Bar Show comes to an end in Manchester.

This hospitality event is steadily becoming the UK show of the year for industry people for the atmosphere, products, talks and takeaways.

I had my Red Wing boots on the ground to investigate the products and trends causing a stir and here’s a summary of what stood out to me:

Trends

Asian flavours are more popular than ever before

There were a lot of exhibitors at the show promoting Asian drinks in various formats. For example, the Japanese shochu brand Iichiko was featured prominently in Speciality Brands’ portfolio as a nod towards Japan’s national spirit finally starting to see traction in the UK market.

Global Brands launched and created a Japanese-inspired liqueur called Asuki, which comes in two flavours of cherry and yuzu. The Global Brands team told me their internal data highlighted the growing consumer interest in Asian flavours.

Elsewhere, the flavours of Vietnam were emphasised through Mothaiba vodka. Founder Liliane Loxley created a vodka made with pandan leaves as a way to recall her childhood memories and a refined spirit.

Mexican spirits dominate

The highest amount of new products that I saw were Mexican drinks. With tequila and mezcal continuing to be the spirits of the moment, it wasn’t surprising to see brands like Cazcabel, Jimador and Cuervo all having stands. There were also new entries like Matthew McConaughey’s Pantalones tequila and Codigo 1530, both of which were fine sipping tequilas.

On the mezcal side, a great entry was Mezcal Reina, a women-owned brand from London making waves with their dedication to promoting the fairer sex in the agave spirits industry.

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I was also struck by Mexican drinks that weren’t mezcal and tequila. One example was Condesa gin, a spirit made to champion the culture of Mexico City. Another example was Abasolo whisky, which hints at a growing subculture of Mexican whiskies made from corn.

The cocktail culture of Manchester is dynamic and strong

In a panel talk about cocktail bars with Joe Schofield, owner of Schofield’s Bar, Fran Cruse, owner of Stray and Alan Sherwood, owner of Little Mercies, there were some interesting points made about the cocktail scene in Manchester:

• Schofield presented the idea that the second Golden Age of cocktails is coming to an end and that consumers may be driven less by the thought of wanting to go out to a cocktail specific bar. Rather, they would look for pubs and venues that offer high-quality drinks across the board and maintain a high standard of hospitality.

• Cruse suggested that the DNA of the Manchester cocktail scene is about better understanding the needs of the customers who come into a bar, not necessarily about representing a specific aspect or aesthetic about the city.

• There is a powerful sense of community among Manchester bars and Schofield’s helped to put the city on the map by winning several prestigious bartending awards.

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Other products that caught my attention

Abasolo Mexican corn whisky

Goalong single malt Chinese whisky

San Cosme mezcal

Almave non-alcoholic blue agave spirit blanco

Nohaca reposado tequila

Tottori blended Japanese whisky

Dear Drink To That reader,

As a category, wine is one of the most dynamic drink categories because of how quickly trends seem to change and new variations seize the spotlight.

And it might be time for English wine to be the style of the moment, according to specialist Kate Davidson. In this informative post, she shares vineyard information, stats and trends.

The Ups & Downs of English Wine’s Renaissance

by Kate Davidson, Athena Strategic Thinking

English wine is no longer a novelty. It’s a serious category and one that’s still finding its feet.

The modern English wine renaissance began in the mid-20th century, but real momentum has built over the last 25 years. Today there are around 1,000 vineyards across the UK, and in parts of southern England they are becoming a familiar part of the landscape. In counties such as Kent, Sussex and Essex, it’s increasingly common to pass rows of vines while driving through the countryside.

For a consumer already spoiled for choice in one of the world’s largest wine-importing nations, the obvious question is: what does English wine offer?

At its best, English wine is defined by freshness. Our cool climate produces wines with bright acidity, floral aromatics and pure fruit expression. Alcohol levels tend to sit at the lower end, making many styles well suited to spring and summer drinking: crisp, vibrant and food-friendly.

If you’ve tried English wine before, it was probably sparkling. English sparkling wine has built a strong reputation over the past decade, made using the traditional method and the same grape varieties as Champagne: Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier. The chalk soils of southern England share similarities with those of northern France, and producers have taken full advantage of this.

The numbers suggest the category is gaining traction. In 2024, around 9.1 million bottles of English wine were sold. Sparkling wine continues to dominate, with 6.2 million bottles sold, nearly doubling since 2018. Still wine, however, is the fastest-growing segment. Sales reached 2.9 million bottles in 2024, more than doubling from 1.2 million bottles in 2018.

Still wines are growing in confidence as producers experiment with styles and varieties suited to England’s changing climate. Chardonnay and Pinot Noir are increasingly used for still wines alongside Bacchus as well as sparkling, and red wine production is slowly expanding as warmer growing seasons improve ripening.

One of the most exciting emerging areas is Crouch Valley, where growers are focusing on Burgundian grape varieties. International interest is growing too — California’s Jackson Family Wines has invested in vineyard land here, recognising the potential of the region’s dry climate and long growing season.

Despite the momentum, English wine faces structural challenges. Production costs remain high and the category is positioned firmly in the premium segment, with average retail prices around £22 for sparkling wine and £12 for still wine. The industry is also relatively concentrated: around 88% of total sales come from just 24 producers, highlighting how young and uneven the sector still is.

Where consumers buy English wine is also evolving. Since the pandemic there has been a notable shift back towards hospitality. Sales through restaurants, bars and hotels have grown, reinforcing the importance of the on-trade in introducing drinkers to the category. Retail sales for home consumption now represent around 26% of the market, while direct-to-consumer sales from wineries account for about 30%, down from pandemic highs as normal buying patterns return.

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Wine tourism is another important piece of the puzzle. Visitors to vineyards are increasing, and tourism activities, including tours, tastings and on-site purchases which together now generate around 24% of revenue for many producers.

The question now is whether English wine can turn rapid growth into long-term sustainability. In a crowded global market where price and familiarity often drive purchasing decisions, the industry still needs to build stronger identity and wider availability.

But for curious drinkers, that’s part of the appeal. English wine remains a young, evolving category, one that rewards exploration. Try it by the glass in a good restaurant, visit a vineyard, or simply look out for it on a wine list. You might discover that the most interesting bottle on the table was grown much closer to home than you expected.

Kate’s bio:

Kate Davidson is the founder of Athena Strategic Thinking, a consultancy focused on strategic growth in the English wine industry. She works with English wine producers to develop business models, customer insights and growth strategies that support long term sustainability. Kate also works with regional producer groups to tackle strategic industry challenges through collaboration and facilitation, helping build a more financially sustainable future for English wine.

Have an idea or category you’d like to write about for Drink To That?

Here’s the submission guidelines:

• The idea should be relevant to trends around your specific wine, beer, non-alcoholic or spirit category.

• Word count must be a minimum of 500 words.

• Non-promotional i.e. not advertising a specific product or brand. It’s fine if you want to reference brands in passing in relation to a wider trend or idea, but not an outright sales pitch. If you’d like to discuss sponsored editorial content with product links, we can talk about that.

Send a short summary of your idea along with the intended audience to infodrinktothat@gmail.com

Dear Drink To That reader,

A niche fact about me is that I'm fascinated by Japanese drinks like sake and shochu...so much so that I've got a couple of qualifications in sake education.

The first sake course I ever took was through Northern Wine School run by John Callow. As a trainer, John is exceptional at what he does for making drink training accessible and entertaining.

In this interview, we talk about what's going on in the world of wine training, the Wine & Spirit Education Trust frameworks and best practices for hospitality trainers to follow with their courses and facilitation.

Thanks for making the time to talk John. In terms of the courses that you’re focused on at the moment and your perspective on how it’s going within the drink training industry, what are your thoughts?

Wine courses are buoyant, and that’s probably the most established part of the WSET brand. Most people recognise those. The newer courses, like beer, we’ve just started doing, and that’s just starting to pick up. Spirits and beer are a bit more specialist, so they’ve been a harder sell, especially as people are just starting to get awareness about them.

They’re slowly building, but it’s interesting to see the uptake. These are very different markets. With spirits and beer, the courses are more industry-focused, whereas wine tends to attract a mix of consumers and trade professionals historically. So we’ve had to adapt our approach and marketing for different subsets of customers.

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Focusing on WSET specifically, is each course rigidly structured, or do training providers have room to add their own interpretation?

There is some rigidity because the core courses and materials are trademarked. They’re also Ofqual-regulated, so they have to maintain a fairly strict structure around how exams are run. But all courses follow a similar approach. They use the Systematic Approach To Tasting (SAT), which is the heart of the tasting sessions, adapted for each qualification.

Different people oversee each qualification at WSET, so they have different approaches to who the courses are for and how they’re marketed. Some existing students continue onto other courses as they want to learn everything. Others might dislike beer, spirits, or wine, so they wouldn’t pursue those courses. Marketing is tricky because different trade customers have different priorities, business models, and expectations.

Since the Northern Wine School is currently the only provider of beer and spirits courses in the north of England, a different course format works well i.e. three days instead of three weeks, as level twos for wine traditionally run. That allows people to stay over instead of commuting back and forth. Trialing different course formats has been interesting.

The materials are fairly standard: level one has a workbook with basic one-day content. Level two has a textbook, workbook, and tasting card. There’s no level three for beer yet, but there is for spirits and sake, which includes a more detailed textbook, workbook, and tasting card. The content layout and revision materials are standardised to help students prepare for exams.

Was SAT created by WSET?

Yes, it’s trademarked. All courses follow that structure: appearance, nose, palate, conclusions. At higher levels, you make qualitative assessments of a sample based on the SAT framework. The structure is the same across categories, though the terminology and assessment approach differ. For example, assessing wine focuses on complexity and finish, whereas beer and spirits are judged differently. A beer can be high quality without a long finish; it can be well-made and balanced.

The SAT structure is familiar if you’ve done other courses, but the approach to assessing each sample is very different. I don’t teach beer personally; external educators more qualified than I am do that. But the structure remains familiar.

Are there other tasting mechanisms that differ from the SAT, or do most follow that?

All WSET courses follow the SAT. It’s standardised worldwide, so everyone reads from the same framework. Its rigidity is both a strength and a weakness. It’s analytical and methodical, rather than fun and personal. It standardises learning so people understand why samples have particular aromas, flavors, colours, and quality levels. For general consumers, it’s less useful as they’re just enjoying the product. But for professional learning, it reduces subjectivity.

Balancing analysis and enjoyment is tricky. You want students to learn logically, but not make it so analytical that it removes the enjoyment. Students sometimes struggle with describing aromas and flavors because what’s obvious to one person might be meaningless to another. For example, describing a fruit or vegetable might make sense in one region but be completely unfamiliar elsewhere.

If you could balance analytical rigor with a more enjoyable, personal experience, what would that look like?

I’d keep the logical approach but make it more personable and informal. There are reasons aromas, flavours, and quality exist in samples, but breaking down the theory and making it accessible and enjoyable is key. Students new to professional tasting can be unsure about things like acidity, sugar, and tannin levels in wine. The same wine from a different vintage may have completely different characteristics, so teaching has to accommodate that.

It’s about helping students be more specific in tasting notes while keeping it accessible. You want them to pick out a few key characteristics with practice, without overwhelming them. Too much analysis can take the fun out of it, but striking that balance is difficult.

That makes sense. Consumers just enjoy what they like, right. They’re not picking out precise flavours.

Exactly. Most consumers enjoy it or they don’t. They buy it and drink it.

How do you differentiate training versus learning and development in drinks education?

It depends on the approach and what the student wants to achieve. If an employer is paying, it depends on their goals too. Blended learning works best because everyone learns differently. WSET materials are dry and factual, but concise. The Wine Scholar Guild adds history, local foods, cultures, and traditions, which makes courses interesting but can overwhelm students. People often get anxious because they’re unsure what’s required for the exam.

What implementation techniques do you recommend for retaining skills after courses?

Continue tasting and drinking. Trade tastings are useful as they often include seminars and guided tastings from experts and winemakers. Many are open to students even if they’re not in the trade.

Certified courses by organisations like the IWC or Champagne bodies are also useful, offering online resources, regional courses, and exams. These are more up-to-date than diploma courses from ten years ago.

Are there always new developments in wine or spirits that require keeping current?

They change very quickly, especially in wine. WSET books are updated every two to three years for most qualifications, and the more advanced qualifications every five years. Even then, a newly published edition can already be out of date because developments are happening all the time.

For example, Bordeaux has recently approved twelve new grape varieties to adapt to the challenges of climate change. Winemakers are now focusing on what consumers want, which is vibrant, youthful, accessible wines, rather than heavily oaked, aged traditional styles, which aren’t fashionable anymore. This includes wines like vermouth, which are popular in cocktails and help bring in a different crowd.

These changes are as much about climate adaptation as they are about style. Bordeaux, for instance, is now officially considered a warm climate region. Over the last ten years, average temperatures have risen, which has created problems for grapes like Merlot that ripen quickly. Wines from these grapes have had very high alcohol levels, and it may no longer be practical to grow some of the traditional varieties. That’s why they’re looking at other grape varieties to replace ones that have been around for hundreds of years.

Overall, many traditional wine regions face challenges from climate change, market forces, and declining volumes of wine sold worldwide. They have to adapt constantly, and often more quickly than printed course materials reflect. That’s where online resources from professional wine bodies become really useful because they provide current information on trends, stats, and practices in wine regions.

For trainers facilitating courses, what are best practices to engage students while following structured material?

Read your students. You’re there to help them learn and enjoy the experience, not lecture. Gauge their reactions and see if you’re providing too much or too little information. Engage openly with questions. Keep learning yourself and stay up to date. Don’t make things up. It’s okay to admit when you don’t know everything.

Most educators are generalists. Even Masters of Wine specialise and they don’t know everything about everything. Be open and honest. Oh, and definitely avoid perpetuating the stuffy stereotype of wine educators.

Well, I can say that your training style is the farthest thing from stuffy John when you did my sake training and you’re one of the most down to earth people I’ve met. How do you see digital learning and AI impacting drinks education?

AI is a great tool if fed correct information. I might use it for ideas for LinkedIn or email content but only after seeing that the information I’ve got back is verifiable and relevant. AI can present nonsense as facts if not checked. Tools like ChatGTP are how Wikipedia used to be in its early days when it wasn’t always considered credible. Wikipedia today now has strong verification processes.

AI can be helpful for learning if it’s curated carefully. Critical thinking and research remain essential. Search engines may become less relevant as people use AI to find answers directly. Businesses visible through AI will benefit. AI can be a useful resource if applied correctly.

Dear Drink To That reader,

I believe hospitality is one of the most alive and dynamic training industries.

Despite all the challenges of the last few years with the rising cost of living, operational fees and people changing how they drink and go out, there are programmes and initiatives fighting to pass on knowledge and preserve an ineffable feeling that chef Anthony Bourdain came damn close to putting into words as “for a moment, or a second, that pinched expression of the cynical, world-weary, throat-cutting, miserable bastards we’ve all had to become disappears, when we’re confronted with something as simple as a plate of food.”

Here are some of the training programmes that reflect the truth in Bourdain’s witticism across drinks, food and more:

The Brand Ambassador Academy

Nate Sorby's Brand Ambassador Academy is a compelling new programme that teaches the essence of being a drink ambassador through hands-on trade marketing, brand management and advocacy.

Experienced hospitality people are welcomed, as are those who are looking to get into the drinks industry. Definitely one to keep an eye, especially for anyone interested in spirits.

Northern Wine School

I’m biased about the Northern Wine School. One because it’s in my home city of Manchester and two because I was trained by founder John Callow in sake education.

The Northern Wine School is one of few, if not the only, provider of Wine & Spirit Education Trust spirits and beer education in the north of England. All the courses are fun and ideal for beginners and seasoned drink professionals.

Food Sorcery

Food Sorcery is a fantastic space in Manchester that takes learners all over the world with the short cooking courses on offer. This can be done at the individual level or for team building.

The Drinks Trust

The Drinks Trust is a leading skills provider in the industry, offering qualification courses for people of all levels without having to spend hundreds of pounds. Drinks Trust also provides wellbeing support for those transitioning in their careers, dealing with burnout and other challenges.

The Smart Training Company

The Smart Training Company is committed to continuous L&D within hospitality and hotel groups. An interesting mix of blended learning along with technology called SmartHub means training doesn’t just stop after workshops.

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Bar Excellence

Bar Excellence run by Murdo MacLeod offers training for L&D directors, hotel leaders and operation teams to bridge the gap between learning and implementation. This training is complemented by performance system design that addresses inconsistencies in hospitality operations to make sure behavioural change happens with staff.

Sake Sommelier Association

The Sake Sommelier Association is a leading training body in the Japanese drinks space. It offers various sake qualifications for beginners all the way up to advanced programmes that give learners the opportunity to travel to Japan and study in a sake brewery.

The Agave Spirits Institute

The Agave Spirits Institute is a premier agave spirits training body that offers detailed courses on mezcal and tequila. With agave spirits being one of the most popular categories at the moment, these programmes are useful for any brand ambassador or folks interested in getting into the industry.

Rummelier

This one is for all you rum geeks out there. Rummelier is a well-regarded training provider of various rum qualifications.

The Spirit Lab

Based in London, The Spirit Lab offers a wealth of knowledge about bartending, cocktail making and the most important principles of hospitality.

Dawn Gibble

While not strictly a trainer, I wanted to include Dawn Gibble in this list because of her experience in digital marketing that spans the hospitality industry. Her educational insights are well worth following and she’s very generous with passing on her knowledge through her various articles and resources.

Manchester Wine School

Last but not least is the Manchester Wine School. Founded by prolific wine writer Simon Woods, the school offers a wide range of WSET courses.

A detail I appreciate about the Manchester Wine School’s tasting and training is they are the opposite of the stuffy wine education stereotype.

Are there any programmes you’d add to this list? Write in and let me know via infodrinktothat@gmail.com

Cheers to you,

Jamie