Why not start at the beginning?
Way back in January of 2026—you know, a couple of months ago—I decided to redesign how I teach my cocktail classes at Smith Tower. Previously, I was picking cocktails at random and teaching them. It was fine, but it became tedious and lackluster. There was no narrative. And so I thought, why not teach where things started? Why not start at the beginning?
So, yes, people were making “cocktails” prior to prohibition, but those cocktails were old school, underdeveloped, and usually a way to get alcohol, water, and nutrients into your system. Prohibition changed that, and why?
Well, there was a lot going on with the spirits at the time. Before prohibition, spirits were good, or at the very least, fine. They were made legally and in plain sight. People had factories, rickhouses, and distillation plants. During prohibition, everything went underground and into the woods. That, of course, changed the quality of the spirits; in most cases, they got worse. There were no regulations.
So now these spirits kinda sucked, but people still wanted to drink, and what had worked before didn’t work during Prohibition, so cocktails had to change in their construction. They become not just an indulgence, but a functional indulgence. A plethora of cocktails emerged during this era, which has essentially set the scene for most modern cocktails.
And for my January cocktail class, I wanted to teach what was happening with the spirits at the time and how they worked in these Prohibition cocktails. So I chose the three most common spirits during the prohibition era: Rum, Gin, and Whiskey.
Let’s Begin.
So rum is a curious study during prohibition, because the spirit itself didn’t change, but the way they acquired it did. Out in Jamaica, Cuba, Venezuela, and Trinidad, they were still having a righteous time making the spirit, free and clear from the confused and overreaching US government.
What became difficult was getting onto US soil. They would send boats at night to shore or out to barges floating in international waters. Think of it like a floating liquor store out in the ocean. That’s a cool idea. Out here in Seattle, we have the Sound, which was used as a high-traffic area for rumrunners and bootleggers alike. They’d run the spirits through the San Juan Islands and then into Seattle. Smith Tower served as a white beacon where a gentleman named Roy Olmstead used it to disperse hooch into the underground. The history is quite interesting, but that’ll be a different lecture, I’m sure.
Anyway, so this shipment of rum shows up at your speakeasy, what do you do with it?
Well, you could drink it neat. A good rum is a wonderful thing. But, there’s a cocktail I talked about already in the Hemingway article—the Daiquiri. And if you remember, the classic daiquiri is the perfect cocktail to highlight the nuances of rum. Unlike the following cocktails, the intention is not to hide the spirit; it is to highlight it. And although rum was available at this time in its honest form, I don’t imagine they had all that much say in what they received. So, in that, whatever you got, you’d want to show it off. And so in this case, the Classic Daiquiri is the way to go. You’ve seen it before, but I’ll lay down the specs again for a refresher.
The Classic Daiquiri
2 oz Rum
.75 oz Lime Juice
.5 oz Simple Syrup
Method:
Combine ingredients into a shaker tin and shake. Once you’ve got a nice chill on the tin, you’ll know you’re done. Stain into a Nic & Nora, garnish with a dehydrated lime, and enjoy.
Simple, elegant, and fun—just like a Flapper.
Now, for this first iteration, I’d recommend a classic white rum like Planteray 3 Star for a perfect iteration, but then you can start to have some fun by plugging in different rums. Jamaican rums have a distinct funk that showcases nicely. One can even create a mix of rums and throw that into a Classic Daiquiri, and you’ll be impressed by the nuances of flavors that come to play.
So whatever sort of rum shows up at your doorstep, legally or illegally, throw it into a Daiquiri and see what happens. That’s the beauty of rum.
On to the Gin
Gin was the most popular spirit during prohibition for one simple reason: accessibility. Unlike rum, which had to travel across international borders, or whiskey, which was being made by your cousin with one tooth out in the woods, gin could be made at home—in your bathtub.
All one would need is a non-flavored distillate, a bunch of botanicals, and something that is—or resembles—a bathtub. Suddenly, and with minimal effort, you’ve got yourself a prohibition gin. There’s just one problem. It sucks.
In fact, it might kill you.
But don’t panic, the drinkers of the 1920’s had it all figured out. They created a cocktail that solves all your problems, and as they would say, it’s the bees’ knees. Puns aside, it is actually called The Bees Knees. Let me show you how to make it, and then I’ll explain what’s happening.
The Bee’s Knees
1.5 oz gin
.75 oz lemon
.75 oz honey simple syrup
Method:
Combine ingredients into a shaker tin, and surprise, surprise, you’re gonna shake it. Now, instead of straining it onto fresh ice, do a dirty dump into a DOF glass. And if you’re unsure what a dirty dump is, it’s when you dump all the contents of the tin into the glass. You’ll have almost a slushy like consistancy to your drink. Top it with fresh ice if you’d like. The garnish is up to you, but a dehydrated lemon wheel is a go-to. If you want to spice it up, some roasted thyme is wonderful.
So what’s so special about this cocktail?
This cocktail is specifically designed to hide the gin. Go ahead, take a sip. If you did it just right, you won’t be able to taste the gin. And that’s because of the brightness of the lemon and the long sweetness of the honey simple syrup. Honey, being a natural sweetener, can stretch further than a traditional simple syrup, and you can use more of it without it throwing off the balance of the cocktail. That’s what’s cool about this drink. It’s not just delicious, but functional.
So go ahead, start up your own underground gin company and start pumping out Bee’s Knees to the public! The kids are gonna love it. (For the non-descerning individuals out there, that was a joke. Do not give kids alcohol. They don’t deserve it yet.)
Ah, at last, my darling, my whiskey.
Whiskey, although not the most consumed spirit during prohibition, became both the problem child and the most desirable. The sort of bad-boy all the girls wanted and all the boys wanted to be friends with. Maybe that’s a stretch, but the idea is that a lot of prohibition history centers around whiskey because it was hard to make and it took a lot of effort to get it to the underground—and with that, there was a lot of money in it.
Suddenly, big underground operations came up—stills hidden in the back of barns and warehouses, boats being built from scratch to outrun cops, supped up cars, and secret roads. In fact, bootleggers are the reason we now have Nascar.
So during this time, whiskey took some hits, and despite all the money involved, the product itself was less than its modern counterpart, so it went into a cocktail, and that cocktail is the ever-divisive Whiskey Sour.
“Why is it so divisive, Keven?”
That’s a great question, and it comes down to the egg white.
“Eggwhite??” you say. “Yuck!”
Settle down. Egg white is not about flavor. If you can taste or smell the egg white in your drink, your eggs have gone bad. When they’re fresh and included in a cocktail, they create a seductive, velvety mouthfeel and a beautiful head of foam.
This is also a drink of technique, for if you don’t have technique, it’ll fall flat—literally.
The Whiskey Sour
2 oz Whiskey
.75 oz Lemon
.5 oz Simple Syrup
.75 oz Eggwhite (or aquafaba)
Method:
We’re going to start with a dry shake. So, combine ingredients into a tin without adding ice, which comes next. Seal the tin, make sure you have a tight grip, and shake. Shake hard. Really make sure you airate and emulsify that egg white. Then crack the tin, throw in some more ice, and shake again. Once ice-cold, double-strain over ice into a DOF glass or into a coupe. Dealers choice. Garnish with a cherry, bitters swirl, and/or dehydrated lemon.
Now, oh my, you’ve got an indulgent cocktail. It’s bright, it’s dark, it’s sweet, it’s silky—it’s all things. It’s so good it should be illegal. And at one point, it was.
Sorry, you’re probably hammered right now.
That’s my bad. If you followed along or took my class, yeah, you’ve had some pretty sweet drinks along the way. But the cool thing is you won’t be arrested for it! That’s a good feeling.
The Prohibition era was the first real Renaissance of the cocktail world, and then, post-Prohibition, it entered what I like to call the dark ages. That’s where we got things like the Sex on the Beach, Tequila Sunrise, The Grasshopper, and basically anything on the Applebee’s menu. That’s unfair to Applebee’s; they run a good chain, but still…
And then suddenly, in the early 2000’s we broke out of it. The second Renaissance began. That’s when Death & Co came onto the scene, and in the 25-plus years they’ve been around, they’ve continued to expand and push the limits and inspire bartenders around the world to elevate their cocktails into more than just booze and juice.
Cocktails have become part of the culinary arts, and they’ve become a medium for a good story. From the choice of spirit, to the infusions, to the glassware, to the garnish, it all matters in a good cocktail. And if I’m going to be paying upwards of 25 dollars for a cocktail, it better tell me a story. That’s what modern cocktails are all about; it’s no longer about functionality.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this little history lesson. As always, continue to drink, continue to tip your bartenders, and maybe take one of my cocktail classes. They’re a good time, and at the very least, I’ll get you drunk. I’m just doing my job.
Cheers,
Keven D. Stehl
