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Contents
Part 1
1. Why Serving Order Matters
A good meal needs a proper ending. Not just dessert but something that tells the room the night has shifted. Digestifs have done that job for centuries, in monasteries, in restaurants, in private clubs, and at the kind of dinner parties where people actually care about what they’re drinking.
We hosted an evening of digestifs for a small group. Six bottles, poured in order from light to heavy. The rule is simple: start light, save the difficult stuff for last. Same logic as a whisky tasting or a wine flight. The order is part of the drink.
Both evenings were produced by the Society of Scents and Spirits under The Society Table, our curated tasting experience for private dinners and corporate events. The spirit selection, serving order, cocktail pairings, and tasting cards were all designed in-house. If you want to bring something like this to your table, reach out at sales@societyofscentsandspirits.com.
2. The Six Bottles
The evening ran in this order: Averna, Amaro Montenegro, Drambuie, Bénédictine, Fernet-Branca, Chartreuse Verte.
Sicily, 1868. Herbs, roots, and citrus peel steeped in spirit, sweetened and coloured with caramel. The gateway. Sweet enough to be easy, bitter enough to be honest.
Created in 1885 by Stanislao Cobianchi as Elisir Lungavita, then renamed in 1896 for Princess Elena of Montenegro, who married Victor Emmanuel, Prince of Naples and later King Victor Emmanuel III, that October. Around 40 botanicals: vanilla, orange peel, eucalyptus. Lighter and more floral than most amari. Bartenders reach for it because it cooperates. Most bottles in this category don’t.
Aged Scotch whisky, heather honey, herbs, spices. Legend says Bonnie Prince Charlie gave the recipe to a MacKinnon clan member in 1746 after they sheltered him following Culloden, though historians treat that as a story built to sell bottles. What is documented is the Ross family of the Broadford Hotel on Skye working the recipe up commercially and registering the Drambuie trademark in 1893, with the MacKinnons taking over production about fifteen years later. Rich, warming, and drinkable.
The label starts the story in 1510 at the Benedictine Abbey of Fécamp in Normandy, with a monk’s elixir of 27 plants and spices recreated by Alexandre Le Grand in 1863. Most historians read that monastic pedigree as marketing for a liqueur Le Grand had just created himself. Every bottle reads D.O.M.: Deo Optimo Maximo. Nothing simple in this glass.
Twenty-seven herbs, roots, and spices which the house says come from five continents. Branca dates it to Milan in 1845, to Bernardino Branca, and says the formula has not changed since; it lives in a safe only the company chairman can open, handed down father to son. A year in oak before it goes anywhere near a bottle. Ask a bartender what they drink after their shift. Usually this. The Ferrari cocktail in Part 1 is built on exactly this tension.
Carthusian monks, French Alps. The manuscript reached the Grande Chartreuse in 1737 and was set out in full in 1764; the green liqueur in this glass was named and released in 1840. 130 botanicals, and by the order’s own account the formula is held by two people at a time, though other accounts say three. One of the few liqueurs said to keep developing in the bottle after it’s sealed, though that claim is contested. The monks capped output at 1.6 million bottles a year, and the shortage that followed has turned older bottles into collector’s items. 110 proof. Serve it cold. Pour it small.
3. The Cocktails
Four cocktails after the flight, each showing a different side of the evening’s bottles.
Usually credited to the bartenders at New York’s 21 Club in the early 1960s, though the same two-ingredient build was printed as the B.I.F. back in 1937; the Rusty Nail name only stuck in 1963. Drambuie softens the Scotch and pulls out the honey. That’s the whole idea.
Chartreuse and gin is one of the more underrated combinations. Both herbal, both opinionated. The lime stops it from becoming too much. A small pour of Chartreuse is enough to complement the gin.
Named for the D.O.M. monks. Bénédictine on a clean vodka base, framed by lemon and maple syrup. Tastes more put-together than it has any right to.
Equal parts Fernet-Branca and Campari. Nobody knows who made it first. The name is the color. Campari pulls the menthol edge off the Fernet. Fernet cuts Campari’s bitterness. Salt sharpens both. Order this without being prompted. The bartender will notice.
Part 2
4. Why Whisky Is the World’s Most Storied Spirit
The second event was at the Amateur Comedy Club in Murray Hill, founded in 1884 and, by its own account, the oldest continuously performing theatre group in America. Seven whiskies, seven regions, a cocktail for each. And at the end, something I’ve been working on for a while.
No other spirit carries place the way whisky does. The peat in the bog, the grain in the field, the wood from a barrel that used to hold sherry. We went new world to old, easy to demanding. Buffalo Trace first. Laphroaig last.
5. The Seven Whiskies
Reportedly the oldest continuously operating distillery in America, though rivals dispute the title. Frankfort, Kentucky. Leestown was settled on the site in 1775 and accounts of distilling there run from that year, though the distillery’s own history dates whiskey stored on site to 1811 and a distillery proper to 1858. Buffalo Trace goes first because it argues with nobody. Vanilla, caramel, clean oak. Sets the reference point.
Single pot still is Ireland’s own style. Malted and unmalted barley in the same mash. The unmalted barley gives it texture and spice you won’t find in Scotch. Bourbon and Oloroso sherry casks. A few people at the table said they didn’t drink Irish whiskey. They have since reconsidered their opinions.
Goa, foot of the Western Ghats. Six-row barley from the Himalayan foothills, and a tropical climate that compresses maturation: the heat drives the spirit into the wood faster, and the angel’s share runs 8 to 10 percent a year against 2 to 3 in Scotland. Unpeated flagship. Tropical fruit, honey, light spice. India is producing some of the most interesting whisky in the world right now and Paul John is one of the reasons people started paying attention.
Yilan Valley, Taiwan, founded 2005. Awards came fast: in a 2010 blind tasting held in Leith one of its whiskies beat three Scotches and an English malt, and its Vinho Barrique took World’s Best Single Malt at the 2015 World Whiskies Awards. Concertmaster finished in Port casks. Red berries, dark chocolate, tropical fruit. The room agreed on this one.
Grant family, Speyside, 1865. One of the last independent distilleries in the region. They mature in ex-Oloroso sherry casks rather than the ex-bourbon wood most distilleries lean on. That’s expensive. Glenfarclas doesn’t cut that corner. Dried fruit, toffee, a hint of smoke. I’ve watched people who said they don’t like whisky finish this glass and ask what it was.
Malt and grain married, put back into cask, bottled at 51.4%. Masataka Taketsuru trained in Scotland from 1918 to 1920, brought everything back to Japan. He thought whisky should be drunk at full strength. At 51.4%, it can take the ice or the dilution, and still show you what it is.
Islay, 1815. The peat bogs the barley is dried over have been forming since the glaciers retreated, at roughly a millimetre a year. Laphroaig has held a Royal Warrant since 1994, granted in person at the distillery back when King Charles III was still Prince of Wales, which makes him the world’s most prominent fan of something that smells like a hospital on a beach. You will either love this or you won’t. No middle ground. Both reactions are correct.
6. The Cocktails & The Kannan
The 1806 definition of the word cocktail — spirit, sugar, water, bitters — is this drink. The name Old Fashioned only reaches print in 1880, when drinkers started asking for it the old-fashioned way. Buffalo Trace handles it cleanly.
Ginger beer leans into the spice in Redbreast. Lime echoes the fruit. Hand this to someone who says they don’t drink whisky.
Maple syrup instead of simple syrup because the raw depth fits the terroir. Paul John’s tropical fruit makes the sour format sing. Named for the city.
Port cask, Cointreau, and orange juice are all on the same frequency. The lemon keeps it honest. Named for the Taipei mountain sunsets, which are worth seeing.
The Manhattan’s Scottish cousin. Named after the Scottish folk hero Rob Roy MacGregor, most likely by way of the 1894 Broadway operetta about him, with the drink credited to the Waldorf-Astoria nearby; Difford’s notes competing accounts. We use Carpano Antica Formula for the sweet vermouth, which has enough body and spice to hold its own against the sherry in Glenfarclas. Stirred, served up.
Worth knowing: a Dry Rob Roy uses dry vermouth instead of sweet. A Perfect Rob Roy splits both equally. A Bobby Burns adds a dash of Bénédictine, which given the evening’s earlier pours was a natural encore.
The Japanese highball is its own discipline. Ice size, glass temperature, water ratio. Nikka at 51.4% handles the dilution without disappearing. The yuzu is optional.
Old Fashioned bones, taken further. Demerara sugar for the molasses depth. Buffalo Trace as the base. A splash of Laphroaig for peat and smoke, just enough to shift the character without taking over. Apple cherry wood smoke pulls it together. Two Angostura cherries.
I’ve been working on this for a while. The Amateur Comedy Club is where it finally felt done.
Bring This to Your Table
Both evenings were produced under The Society Table, the SSS curated tasting experience. We select the spirits, design the serving order, build the cocktail pairings, and produce the printed cards. The format is flexible. A curated lineup you run yourself, or a fully hosted evening with presentation. Private dinners and corporate events both welcome. More events coming. Watch the Journal and social channels.
Get in touch at sales@societyofscentsandspirits.com.
