Tuxedo
The Tuxedo takes its name from Tuxedo Park, the Hudson Valley enclave whose club gave the dinner jacket its American name, and the drink is dressed accordingly: Old Tom gin and dry vermouth in the equal 1880s manner, with maraschino, absinthe and orange bitters worn as studs and cufflinks. Against its twin the Turf Club it is the quieter dresser. The same five elements, with the maraschino and the absinthe pulled back to whispers, so the martini’s wine-and-juniper conversation carries more of the evening. The absinthe is sometimes taken as a glass rinse rather than a measure, which is the drink’s one black-tie flourish. It survives as the martini family’s formalwear: the drink to pour when the occasion asks for history with its shoes shined, and the natural second chapter to read after the Turf Club’s unabridged edition. Harry Johnson printed an early reading, and the Savoy fixed the version most bars now follow.
Glassware: Nick & Nora Glass
Garnish: Lemon Twist and Maraschino Cherry
Ingredients
30ml
The dinner jacket’s gin: rounded and period-correct, holding an equal measure of vermouth without needing any armour to do it.
30ml
Full equality, as the 1880s dressed. Freshness is non-negotiable at this exposure, because it is half the glass and there is nothing loud enough to cover a tired bottle.
2.5ml
A half-barspoon whisper: the stud rather than the shirt. At a full barspoon it steps forward and the drink turns into its louder twin.
1.25ml
Two dashes, or a glass rinse for the more formal reading. It is the drink’s one flourish and it is meant to be worn lightly rather than announced.
3 dashes
The period’s signature seasoning, bridging the gin and the vermouth exactly as it does across the rest of the 1880s repertoire.
Instructions
Add the Old Tom, vermouth, maraschino, absinthe and bitters to a mixing glass with ice.
Stir for 25 seconds.
Strain into a chilled Nick & Nora or coupe.
Express a lemon twist, drop it in, and add the cherry.
Source: the IBA (Official IBA specification; method ours). Last checked 13 August 2026.
Expert Tip
Whispers, not statements. The Tuxedo’s seasonings sit deliberately below the Turf Club’s, and that restraint is the dress code rather than an economy. Two and a half millilitres of maraschino is a half-barspoon, and it is meant to be noticed only as a faint cherry-kernel sweetness underneath the vermouth; at a full barspoon it steps forward and the drink becomes its louder twin. The absinthe is the same story in a different bottle. Two dashes stirred through reads slightly louder than a rinse, and both are period-defensible, but the rinse is the more formal reading: coat the chilled glass, discard the excess, and let the anise arrive as atmosphere rather than as an ingredient.
Flavour Profile
The Origin
Tuxedo Park’s club dressed America’s evenings and gave the dinner jacket its American name, and the drink carried the association into the bar manuals of the 1880s and 90s.
Harry Johnson is among the early printers, and the Savoy Cocktail Book later settled the version most bars now follow. Numbered variants exist across the books, as they do for most drinks of this vintage, and this reading is the classic one. The name is doing something specific: it is borrowing formality rather than describing a flavour, which was a common move at the time and is rare now.
The Quieter Twin
Set beside the Turf Club, the Tuxedo trims every seasoning it shares. The maraschino is halved, the absinthe drops to dashes or a rinse, and the martini core carries considerably more of the drink.
That makes the pair the martini family’s subtlest tasting comparison, and they are worth pouring together at least once. The Turf Club is the unabridged edition, with every modifier audible; the Tuxedo is the same text edited down until only the gin and the vermouth are really talking. Neither is better, and the difference is entirely a matter of how much you want the seasonings to say.
Why Old Tom
Old Tom is a lightly sweetened gin style that predates London Dry, and it is load-bearing here rather than a period affectation.
An equal measure of dry vermouth is a great deal of wine to balance, and there is almost no sugar anywhere else in the build. Old Tom’s own gentle sweetness is what holds that in equilibrium. A London Dry makes the drink noticeably sharper and thinner, with the vermouth’s acidity suddenly unopposed, which is exactly the problem the style existed to solve in the first place.
The Rinse Option
The absinthe rinse, coating the chilled glass and discarding the excess, is the Tuxedo’s formal flourish and the reading worth trying.
It puts anise into the drink as atmosphere rather than as an ingredient: you meet it at the nose on the first approach and it recedes, where dashes stirred through distribute it evenly and slightly louder. Both are period-defensible and both appear in the books. The rinse is the more formal of the two and suits a drink named after a dinner jacket rather better than a measured pour does.
How to Serve It
Up, cold and dressed: a lemon twist and a cherry together, in the old double garnish that most modern drinks have abandoned.
It is the drink for an evening that has earned a dinner jacket, literal or otherwise, and it is the gentlest of the deep-history martinis. Stir the full twenty-five seconds, because equal parts with no citrus needs the dilution to knit, and serve it in a small glass so it stays cold to the bottom.
The Spirit
Old Tom GinA lightly sweetened gin, rounder than London Dry and older than it. The Victorian classics were written for this style, which is why some of them read drier today than their authors can have intended.
Frequently Asked Questions
What is a Tuxedo cocktail?
The club martini of the 1880s and 90s: Old Tom gin and dry vermouth in equal measure, with whispers of maraschino, absinthe and orange bitters. It is the quieter twin of the Turf Club, which runs every seasoning louder.
Where does the name come from?
Tuxedo Park, the Hudson Valley enclave whose country club gave the dinner jacket its American name. The drink carried that association through the era's bar books and on into the Savoy Cocktail Book decades later, by which point the jacket was considerably better known than the cocktail.
Rinse or dashes of absinthe?
Both are correct and both appear in the period books. The rinse wears the anise as atmosphere, meeting the nose and receding; dashes stir it slightly louder into the body. The rinse is the more formal reading.
Why Old Tom rather than London Dry?
Because an equal measure of dry vermouth needs balancing and there is almost no other sugar in the build. Old Tom’s gentle sweetness does that job. A London Dry leaves the vermouth’s acidity unopposed and the drink turns sharp.
Master the Techniques
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Turf Club
The Turf Club is one of the oldest named drinks in the martini family, appearing in the bar books of the 1880s when gin and vermouth together was still a new enough idea to need names. The turf clubs were horse-racing institutions, and the drink took their gloss. The spec is a martini wearing everything: Old Tom gin and dry vermouth in equal measure, then a barspoon of maraschino, half a teaspoon of absinthe and two dashes of orange bitters on top. That was the standard aromatic wardrobe of the decade, and the twentieth century spent seventy years taking it off one piece at a time until only the twist survived. It is usually studied alongside the Tuxedo, which uses the same five ingredients at slightly quieter measures. Tasted in sequence they are a lesson in how far a barspoon moves a drink. Anyone who knows only the dry martini meets the Turf Club the way a reader meets an unabridged edition.
Martini
The Martini is the most argued-about drink in the history of bartending. The disputes over ratio, gin versus vodka, stirred versus shaken, olive versus twist have run for over a century, and most are preference dressed up as correctness. The Martini tolerates a wide range of builds. What it does not tolerate is imprecision or poor ingredients. The version documented here is a gin Martini at the official ratio of six parts gin to one of dry vermouth, stirred, served cold, with a lemon twist. At that ratio the vermouth reads as a mineral edge and a wine note behind the juniper rather than an equal partner, which is where the modern consensus has settled. Wetter builds are set out below and none of them is wrong. The fashion for extremely dry Martinis, with the vermouth reduced to a rinse or omitted entirely, produces what is technically chilled gin. There is nothing wrong with chilled gin. It is not a Martini. The vermouth matters as much as the gin. Treat it as perishable, keep it refrigerated, and replace it within four weeks.
Ford Cocktail
The Ford is the 1890s martini at its most courteous: Old Tom gin and dry vermouth at equal strength, seasoned with a barspoon of Bénédictine and orange bitters, from George Kappeler’s 1895 Modern American Drinks. It is the gin drink the Gilded Age actually poured while history was busy mythologising the dry martini. Equal parts is the era’s signature and the drink’s character. The Old Tom’s gentle sweetness meets the vermouth’s herbs at eye level, the Bénédictine threads honeyed spice through the seam, and the orange bitters brighten the whole thing in the period manner. Nothing dominates and everything converses. The revival rediscovered it when Old Tom returned to production, and it has become the standard demonstration of what the sweetened gin style was actually for: not a curiosity but a different and gentler martini tradition, one that the twentieth century’s long march toward dryness simply steamrolled on its way past.
Where this one sits
Recipe by Jerry Can Spirits
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