The drinks of the 1990s return — and get a reboot

The drinks of the ’90s served largely as fuel for dancing, and as conversation starters with the Hungarian hand models we were trying to dance with.

Like the clothes we wore, a lot of the music we listened to and (wow!) the way we wore our hair, for those who were young in the ’90s, the cocktails didn’t need to be great. When these cocktails were well-made, they could be excellent, but that was often beside the point.

Do any of us even really remember what a Woo-Woo tasted like? What would some of the drinks of the ’90s — suddenly The decade, nostalgia-wise — taste like today? Is there a way to improve them and make them more interesting? Do they even need that? Let’s see what we have to work with:

Mojito

The mojito might be the quintessential 1990s drink. Its combination of lime juice and mint could make you feel like you were sitting in a swanky club in Miami. Maybe you were sitting in a swanky club in Miami during the ’90s — I don’t know what you were doing 30 years ago or whether you were legal to drink. The taste of rum was usually an afterthought; the focus was on the greenery.

You looked sophisticated, drinking a mojito.

The original version uses surprisingly little mint.

’90s mojito

Ingredients

• 3 mint leaves
• ½ ounce simple syrup
• 2 ounces white rum — Because the rum is supposed to be a background flavor here, any mid-range, doesn’t-take-itself-too-seriously white or silver rum will work. Bacardi is a good choice.
• ¾ ounce fresh squeezed lime juice — from ordinary Persian limes, the kind you find at the grocery store, next to the lemons
• 3 to 4 ounces club soda

Muddle the mint leaves in the bottom of a Collins glass.

Add ice, and the rest of the ingredients, and stir to combine.

Garnish with a mint sprig, and possibly a lime wheel.

Sip, with your coolest, most inscrutable look on your face. If anyone asks how you are doing, tell them, “Livin’ la vida loca, my friend.”

Considering that this drink was considered one of the trendiest cocktails around at the time, it is surprisingly light and delicate. The mint and rum are very modest here. The main impressions you get as you drink it are of carbonation and lime juice. This is a drink for someone who wants to keep their wits about them.

But also, puzzlingly shy when it comes to the use of mint.

2022 me really doesn’t need to keep my wits about me. I know that I’m a lightweight at this point, at least so far as my cocktail consumption goes. The most exciting and dangerous thing I’m planning to do on a Friday night is emptying the dishwasher. If I’m going to drink a mojito, I’d like to forgo any subtlety and get slapped in the face with its mojito-ness. I am no longer bold, so I’d like my mojito to be bold for me.

Updated Mojito

Ingredients

• 5 grams of fresh mint — This doesn’t sound like much, but when I tried to weigh three mint leaves from the original recipe, they didn’t register on my scale, which means that I was using less than a tenth of a gram of them. Thus, this is at least 50 times mintier than the classic version. Think a small handful.
• 2 ounces white rum — I’m not really looking to make a boozier mojito, just a more flavorful one.
• ¾ ounce makrut lime juice — These little limes are surprisingly juicy. If you can’t find any, Key limes would work well, too.
• 1 ounce simple syrup — The smaller limes have a slightly bitter edge to them, which helps give them their sophisticated flavor, but a little extra sweetness helps balance it out.
• 3 to 4 ounces extra-bubbly club soda — I like Topo Chico Mineral Water.

As before, muddle the mint in the bottom of a Collins glass.

Add ice and the other ingredients, and stir gently.

Garnish with half a tiny lime. This might prompt somebody to ask, “What is that?” at which point you can just hand over your drink for them to take a sip, and watch as they are knocked backward by flavor and joy.

It’s surprising how much flavor the smaller limes pack. The extra mint is welcome, of course, but the flavor of the makrut is the star of the show. This version of the mojito is sweet, and acidic, and musky, and herbal, all at once.

I hate to make assumptions, but I suspect that once you have tried this, any time you see makrut limes at the supermarket, you’ll find yourself saying out loud, “Do you know what time it is? That’s right; it’s Mojito Time, Baby!” You might get some strange looks from your fellow shoppers, but that’s the price you pay for being authentically awesome.

Limes
These are makrut limes. I stumbled over them in the produce section at Whole Foods. They have another, more common name, one with unfortunate racial overtones. They are more commonly called — and my apologies to anyone from southern Africa — kaffir limes. I had heard of using the leaves in Thai cooking, but this was the first time I had seen the actual fruit. Each of the limes is about the size of a golf ball, and covered with a thick, leathery rind.
I asked the produce manager what they tasted like, and he pulled out a pocket knife and opened one for us to try. The flavor was very intense.
“Are you getting … leather?” I asked.
“A little bit, but mostly … um….”
“What?” I asked.
“Lemon Pledge?” he guessed.
“That’s it! But in a good way!”
He nodded and smiled.
And it does. In 1958, the chemical engineers at Johnson & Johnson developed a scent for their furniture polish that smelled so good, so wholesome, that homemakers would feel guilty not spraying in on their woodwork. Smelling it today can instantly transport you to your childhood and soothe you like a lullaby.
Makrut limes taste a lot like that.
Only, naturally.
One shelf over from the limes was a bin of yuzu. I had always heard of yuzu, and even seen small bottles of yuzu juice for sale at astronomical prices, but this was the first time I’d ever seen the fresh fruit. They are about the same size and shape as tangerines, but a deep green color that lightens to a buttery yellow as they ripen.
My new friend cut open a yuzu for us, and we were initially underwhelmed. The juice tasted generically citrusy but was not very intense. The seeds were surprisingly large, but otherwise we both shrugged and started talking about rhubarb.
I bought a couple of pounds of the yuzu anyway, and when I got home I decided to make them into a syrup, which turned out to be astoundingly, shockingly good — vibrant and acidic, and with a bitter finish. If you find any fresh yuzu, I would recommend making this, though decent lemons would work well, too.

Yuzu Syrup
Zest all the yuzus you have, and set the zest aside.
Squeeze the fruit through a fine-meshed strainer, into a small saucepan.
Add an equal amount, by weight, of white sugar to the juice.
Bring to a boil over medium heat, making sure that all the sugar has dissolved.
Remove the pan from the heat, then stir in the zest. Cover with a plate, and let it sit for half an hour.
Pour into a small jar or bottle, through a strainer and a funnel. Label and refrigerate.

Jasmine

The jasmine made its debut in Las Vegas in the late ’90s. It was a riff on a riff on a variation of an already existent cocktail, so it doesn’t feel very transgressive to modify it.

I like to think of a beautiful bartender named Jasmine, with dark hair in a pixie cut, shockingly blue eyes, and a truly surprising number of tattoos (which, in the ’90s, were a cutting-edge trend). I imagine an admirer bringing her a bouquet of jasmine flowers. In this scenario, the admirer is also a woman named Jasmine, so Inky Jasmine makes her a jasmine cocktail.

Original Jasmine

Ingredients

• 1½ ounces very cold gin — Keeping a bottle of gin in the freezer is not the worst idea in the world. (I already keep a bottle of vodka there, for making pie crust, but that’s another story.)
• ¼ ounce Campari
• ¼ ounce orange liqueur — I used triple sec.
• ¾ ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice

Combine all ingredients, with ice, in a cocktail shaker.

Shake until very cold. You’ll know you’re getting there when you hear the ice cubes start to break up. I’m not positive, but I think this is one reason bartenders shake drinks next to their ears.

Strain into a martini glass. Remember to hold it by the stem, so it stays as cold as possible.

This is a very nice cocktail. It isn’t too sweet — the only sweetness comes from the tiny amount of triple sec — and the equally tiny amount of Campari gives it a gentle pink color and a very small amount of bitterness in the background. Considering its origins, it is a very adult drink.

My only real complaint with it is that it doesn’t have anything to do with actual jasmine.

So, let’s see what we can do about that:

Today’s Jasmine

Ingredients

• 1½ ounces very cold gin — I’ve been using Wiggly Bridge. It’s a dry gin that doesn’t impose any floral flavors of its own and fight with the jasmine (see below).
• ¼ Campari — I still like the color and bitterness it brings to this drink.
• 1 ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice
• ½ ounce jasmine syrup (see below)

Combine all the ingredients with ice in a cocktail shaker, and shake until extremely cold.

Strain into a martini glass.

Holding the glass by the stem, do the pretentious, wine-snobby, sniffing-the-drink-to-bring-the-scent-to-your-palate thing. Something like 75 percent of everything you think you taste actually comes from the smell of whatever you’re eating or drinking. In this case, you’ll want to take in the floral notes from the jasmine syrup.

Again, this is a very nice, adult-ish cocktail. It still has the pretty color and bitterness, but it’s a bit sweeter, to help bring the smell of jasmine to you. You may not have ever experienced fresh jasmine blossoms, but they are staggeringly good smelling. The jasmine syrup brings just a whisper of that to a weary world.

Jasmine Syrup

Ingredients

• 1 cup water — approximately 200 grams
• 1 cup white sugar — also, approximately 200 grams
• ½ cup dried jasmine blossoms — approximately 10 grams
• The juice of ½ a lime — a regular, grocery-store Persian lime, not a fancy lime with delusions of grandeur.

Combine the sugar and water in a small saucepan, and bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring occasionally.

Boil for 10 to 15 seconds to make sure that the sugar is completely dissolved. Remove from heat.

Stir the dried jasmine blossoms into the hot sugar syrup, cover, and leave to steep for 30 minutes.

Squeeze the lime juice into the mixture, and stir to combine. Strain into a bottle, then wait for the Call to Greatness.

Appletini

There isn’t a lot to say about the appletini, sometimes known as a sour apple martini. It was popular in the ’90s and was, I think, a plot point in an episode of Law and Order. Within a few years it became fashionable to sneer at, which must mean that there was something to it.

OG Appletini

Ingredients

• 1¾ ounces vodka
• 1 ounce sour apple schnapps — I used a tiny sample-sized bottle of 99 Apples, not wanting to commit to an entire full-sized one.
• ¼ ounce Rose’s Lime Juice
• ¼ ounce fresh squeezed lemon juice
• ¼ ounce fresh squeezed lime juice

Combine all ingredients with ice in a cocktail shaker, and shake until very cold.

Strain into a cocktail glass, and drink while wondering what ever happened to wearing overalls with one strap hanging loose.

There are any number of recipes for appletinis, in varying degrees of sweetness and potency. This is one of the more restrained versions. It is not overly sweet and it does retain a lot of the sourness that you might hope for, if not a great deal of actual apple flavor.

This is, frankly, a cocktail with a lot of potential for progress.

Modified, More Apple-y Version of an Appletini

Ingredients

• 2½ ounces apple brandy — I like Laird’s Applejack.
• 2 ounces apple cider — This will do most of the heavy lifting, apple-wise.
• ½ ounce yuzu syrup — see Citrus Sidebar

Combine all ingredients with ice and shake in a cocktail shaker until very cold.

Strain into a cocktail glass, and sip pensively, still thinking about the whole overalls thing and wondering if Dexy’s Midnight Runners and the Georgia Satellites were secretly the same group and if that’s why nobody has ever heard of any of them again.

This is a much better version of the appletini, partially due to the magical yuzu syrup and partially to the presence of actual apples. There is a citrusy sourness in the background, but a substantial apple flavor as well.

Espresso Martini

Of all these nostalgic ’90s cocktails, only one stands tall, self-confident, and without the need to be updated.

A lot of cocktails from this period are called “classics” in the sense that they have been around for quite a while and they have been popular for much of that time. An espresso martini is a true classic, in the same sense as a black tuxedo, or the tinkling of Audrey Hepburn’s laughter in Roman Holiday. It stands nearly perfect; it needs no tweaking.

The Espresso Martini

Ingredients

• 2 ounces coffee-infused vodka (see below)
• ½ ounce Kahlua
• ¼ ounce simple syrup
• 1 ounce cold brew concentrate — I like Trader Joe’s.

Gently pour all ingredients over ice in a mixing glass. Stir slowly, but thoroughly, until very cold.

Pour into a frosted martini glass.

Drink with your eyes closed, thinking of classy dames and piano jazz.

The great thing about a well-crafted espresso martini is that it combines the bracing aspects of a stiff drink, with the stare-you-in-the-eyes confidence of a really good cup of coffee. The caffeine is a plus, of course, but the real standout here is the richness of the coffee. It smiles at you and says, “You got this, Kid.”

Put another way: This is a very good cocktail. Keep in mind, though, that more than one of these babies might keep you up very late into the night watching old movies and possibly crying.

Coffee-Infused Vodka

Ingredients

• 10 grams French-roast coffee beans
• 6 ounces 80 proof vodka

Using a mortar and pestle, or the bottom of a heavy saucepan, gently crush the coffee beans. The idea here is to break them up into pieces, but not to grind them into powder.

Combine the coffee beans and vodka in a small, tightly sealed jar, and store in a cool, dark place for two days, shaking twice per day.

Strain through a fine-mesh strainer before using in a cocktail.

Lemon Drop

I’ve got a friend who is a highly ranked competitive slam poet.

She and I have argued for years about the relative merits of poetry. Clearly, she is all for it. I, on the other hand, have reservations.

“There’s just so much bad poetry out there,” I have pointed out.

“No,” she has argued. “There’s no such thing as bad poetry!”

At this point, I have stared at her in stony silence, until the inaccuracy of this statement has collapsed on the floor with the sound of breaking glass.

“Okay, FINE!” she has responded. “Yes. There is a lot of bad poetry out there, but that doesn’t have any bearing on how good the good stuff is.”

I would like to argue that contention, if only out of obstinacy, but the fact that I’ve subscribed to a poem-of-the-day service for the past year would highlight my hypocrisy.

In that same spirit, someone could legitimately argue that a proliferation of bad lemon drop cocktails does not negate the excellence of a well-made one.

A Lemon Drop

Ingredients

• 2 ounces very cold vodka — I’ve been enjoying Ukrainian Heritage lately.
• ½ ounce triple sec
• 1 ounce fresh-squeezed lemon juice
• 1 ounce simple syrup

Combine all ingredients with ice in a cocktail shaker, and shake until very, very cold.

Strain into a chilled martini glass. Drink while still extremely cold.

The lemon juice carries most of the weight in a good lemon drop. It provides flavor, but even more importantly it adds acidity, which keeps the sweetness from becoming cloying. If you drink this while it is still extremely cold, it will sting your mouth a little, which suits its lemony-ness.

This is a delicious drink; it really is. I just think it might be better if it tasted more strongly of lemons. Let’s address that:

A Lemonier Drop

Ingredients

• 2 ounces very cold vodka
• ½ ounce limoncello
• 1 ounce homemade yuzu or lemon syrup
• 1½ ounces fresh squeezed lemon juice

Again, shake everything over ice, until extremely cold.

Strain into a martini glass.

This lemon drop is about as sweet as the original version — half an ounce of a sweet liqueur, and an ounce of syrup — and has the same amount of lemon juice, so the sweet/sour proportions are pretty much the same. The main difference here is the increase in citrus flavor.

Could you bump the lemon flavor even more by using a lemon vodka?

I’m not sure that’s legal in this state.

OK, You Knew This Would Be Showing Up Sooner or Later

The Cosmopolitan

The Cosmopolitan actually got its start in the 1970s, but really came into its own in the ’90s striding across the landscape of American happy hours like a pink colossus. Yes, Sex in the City. Yes, South Park. Yes, it eventually became a bit of a cliché.

But what we tend to lose sight of is that, in spite of all that, a cosmo can be a very good cocktail:

Carrie’s (or is it Samantha’s?) Cosmo

Ingredients

• 1 ounce vodka
• 1 ounce triple sec
• 1½ ounces cranberry juice cocktail
• ½ ounce fresh squeezed lime juice
• 2 dashes orange bitters

Combine all ingredients with ice in a cocktail shaker, and shake until very cold.

Strain into a cocktail glass.

Drink while plotting world domination with a special friend.

Admittedly, a classic cosmo can be a bit on the sweet side — cranberry juice cocktail and a large slug of triple sec form a fairly sweet base — but lime juice and especially the bitters help balance things out. It has a tartness that makes your mouth water, which in turn gives it a very juicy mouth-feel. It tastes good, and drinking one can easily lead to drinking two, and the next thing you know, you are telling very personal secrets to your new friend, Julio, the Uber driver.

Can it be improved on? Maybe.

John’s Cosmo

Ingredients

• 2 ounces vodka — Let’s start by doubling the amount of vodka. The fruitiness of the final drink benefits from an authoritative booziness.
• 1 ounce yuzu syrup — It’s OK to keep things sweet; that’s part of a cosmo’s appeal. But triple sec tends to hide in the background; that’s what it’s good at. Let’s replace it with something that brings flavor to the party. If you haven’t been able to find any fresh yuzu, a fresh citrus syrup made from limes, lemons or even grapefruit will work well. The point here is that we want an assertive citrus flavor.
• 1½ ounces unsweetened pomegranate juice — Trust me on this. Your finished drink will still be pink. It will still be fruity — we just added yuzu, after all — but the pomegranate juice adds a bracing, no-nonsense spine to hang the other flavors from.
• ½ ounce makrut lime juice — We’ve just introduced three strong flavors. Our lime juice should be equally assertive. The leathery, acidic, slightly bitter, yes, Lemon Pledge-iness of the makrut juice is what you want here. If you haven’t been able to find any makruts, you might want to go with Key limes. The point is, send in a heavy hitter.

There is nothing complicated here — throw the Frenetic Four into a cocktail shaker full of ice, and let them fight it out. Shake until very cold. Because all the flavors are so powerful to start with, you might want to set the shaker aside for a few minutes, then reshake everything to dilute it slightly.

Strain into a cocktail glass.

You: “This is purple. You promised me it would be pink.”

Cosmopolitan: “Oh, I’m pink.”

You, taking a sip: “Wow! That’s, um, okay. But you’re still purple.”

Cosmo: “Really? Take another sip.”

You: “I repeat — Wow! Well, maybe pink-ISH purple.”

Cosmo: “Are you sure?”

You, taking another sip: “I think I’m starting to see Time.”

Cosmo: “And what color am I?”

You: “I’m going with pink.”

Cosmo: “And you’re talking to your cocktail.”

You: “You are a very good drink.”

Cosmo: “I do what I can.”

Featured photo: Courtesy photo.