How to Make a Rye Whiske-Apricot Sour

Can you honor someone against their will?

Let’s start with the honor: In 1931, a bartender in Cuba invented a cocktail that they called the Douglas Fairbanks. It’s rye whiskey (or possibly gin, more on that below) with lemon, a touch of apricot, and an egg white, and named, obviously, for the silent film superstar. Douglas Fairbanks was the original Hollywood action hero, a fit, handsome, daring leading man who did all his own stunts, leaping over furniture in The Mark of Zorro and jumping down the mainsail in The Black Pirate, and was, at the time, among the most famous people in the world. 

Bartenders did this kind of thing all the time—there was already a Charlie Chaplin cocktail and a Mary Pickford cocktail (arguably the only two actors more famous than Fairbanks himself), so it makes perfect sense that at the celebrated Sloppy Joe’s Bar in Havana, some bartender would invent a drink and name it for the star. 

Here’s the wrinkle: Not only did Douglas Fairbanks not drink cocktails, he didn’t drink at all, and was, in fact, a vocal and vociferous teetotaler. His father had been a savage drinker, and his abandonment—when young Douglas was only five—left the actor with what PBS referred to as “a lifelong hatred for alcohol.” He was married to Mary Pickford and the two would refuse to serve alcohol, even at social events (“not even one lousy drop of wine,” groused actress Miriam Cooper). Fairbanks wrote back-to-back self help books with titles Laugh and Live and Making Life Worth Living extolling the virtues of fitness and temperance, and writing things like “life is too short to hang around the loafing places with the driftwood of humanity listening to their stories of failure and drinking in with liquor some of their bitterness.” In 1930, roughly the same year the Douglas Fairbanks cocktail was created, his son wrote in Vanity Fair that his father “has never had a drink in his life.”

Fairbanks, as best we know, never acknowledged his eponymous cocktail. Given that it all pre-dated Google by some 70 years, it’s possible that he never knew of it. But it must be said that that there is nothing in his public or private life that suggests he would be anything but horrified by the connection—it’s a little like naming a battleship for the Dalai Lama, or inventing a new sex toy and and calling it “the Pope”—not just unwanted, but antithetical to what he stood for. 

In any event, Sloppy Joe’s Bar developed a curious habit of publishing annual cocktail books through the 1930s, and so we see the Douglas Fairbanks cocktail evolve across the decade, and it does so more than most. It shows up in the 1931-32 Sloppy Joe’s Cocktails Manual as equal parts rye whiskey and apricot brandy, with lemon juice and an egg white. The next year, it’s printed again but this time with a different base spirit (gin instead of rye) and a different amount (literally twice as much). In 1935 it changes from lemon to lime juice, in 1938 the apricot brandy gets doubled as well (so back to equal parts), and then in 1939—the same year, as it happens, that Fairbanks died, at age 56—the recipe is rejiggered yet again but now so is the name, changed inexplicably to “What Is Good,” the cocktail called “Douglas Fairbanks” unceremoniously snuffed out of existence. 

To a different namesake, all this flitting indecision might seem like disrespect. But under the circumstances, taking Douglas Fairbanks’ name off of it entirely, delicious though it is, seems like the biggest honor they could give.

Douglas Fairbanks

Add all ingredients to a cocktail shaker, seal, and “dry” shake without ice for about five to 10 seconds to whip the egg (hold on tight to your shaker tins, they sometimes try to come apart when ice isn’t involved). Then add ice and shake for eight to 10 seconds. Strain gently into a coupe or cocktail glass, express a lemon peel over the top and discard (for aroma), and decorate the foam with drops of angostura bitters (for visuals).

NOTES ON INGREDIENTS

Rye vs. Gin: Sloppy Joe’s Bar clearly preferred gin, but I don’t agree—for me, the spice of rye whiskey offers the perfect contrast to the warm orchard-fruit sweetness of the apricot (if using gin, consider replacing the simple syrup with orgeat).

As for rye brands, I liked it with everything, but preferred it when the rye spice got louder, so if it were me I’d grab brands that use mostly or all rye, like Bulleit or Dickel ryes (at 95 percent) or the Woodinville Rye (at 100 percent).

Simple Syrup: Omitted in the original recipe, but you realistically can’t use apricot liqueur as the sole sweetener. To make simple syrup (or just “simple” in the bar world), combine in a pot equal parts—say, a half cup each—of sugar and warm or hot water, and stir until the sugar is dissolved. The hotter the water, the faster it’ll dissolve, but we’re talking about two minutes on the long end. Bottle and refrigerate, it should last about a month. Toss it if it starts to smell like nail polish remover (it’s fermenting) or the liquid gets hazy whisps (mold).

Apricot Liqueur: Apricot liqueur is one of those things that is incredibly useful across different types of spirits; a flavor that’s both familiar and mildly exotic, and is among my favorite modifiers. The problem is that unless it’s made very well, it can get distractingly medicinal, so be fussy about what brand to buy. The one I’ve done the most work with and can vouch for is the Giffard Abricot du Roussillon. Others are the Orchard Apricot from Rothman and Winter, and while I realize in writing this that I’ve never actually tried the apricot liqueur from Luxardo, everything else they do is so good that I’d be inclined to trust it.

Angostura Bitters: Non traditional, but I think it is much welcome. The Apricot and rye long for a bit of spice to complete their flavor trilogy—it’s enough to splash some on top to decorate the egg white foam, but I go ahead and put a dash in there as well.

Egg White: Egg whites are used raw, which bring a fluffy white head and an inimitable velvety texture to the cocktail, while binding to the tannins in the whiskey to smooth the whole thing out. I didn’t try it without an egg white, and honestly I don’t think it would be all that good. The only thing I’ll add here is that if you’re nervous about the safety of it, a carton of pasteurized egg whites achieves a similar end, and if you don’t eat eggs, you can use “aquafaba” (the liquid in a can of chickpeas). Stay away from the “cocktail foams” like Fee Foam or Ms. Betters Miraculous Foamer, sure they put a fluffy white head on the drink, but it’s just aesthetic and does nothing for the tannins.

Ratios: Depending on the proof of your rye and sweetness of your liqueur you may need to fiddle lightly with the ratios. What’s above works beautifully for most things, but you may need to dial the sweetness up or down, to your taste.