How to Make a Gunshop Fizz, the Cocktail That Tastes Like a Watermelon Jolly Rancher for Grown Ups

“Boring damned people. All over the earth. Propagating more boring damned people. What a horror show. The earth swarmed with them.”
— Charles Bukowski

How to Make a Kingston Negroni, a Funky Rum Twist on the Classic Cocktail

The above quote is what you’re met with on the very first page of Beta Cocktails and does a lot to signal what is to come. Beta Cocktails, like its predecessor Rogue Cocktails , was nominally a booklet of 50 or so original drinks, but to call it a cocktail book is like calling the Communist Manifesto an economic paper. It was that, sure, but it was also a watershed, a call to action, and a shot across the bow.

To set the stage: In 2009, bartenders Kirk Estopinal and Maksym Pazuniak were behind the stick at New Orleans’ seminal bar Cure, lamenting what they perceived as a lack of innovation in the cocktail world. The 2000s were all about re-establishing the long-dormant rules of tending bar—when to shake, when to stir, how to use bitters, best practices for temperature, texture, ratios, etc—but to Estopinal and Pazuniak, all of this stifled creativity, and led to drinks with a persistent and frustrating sameness. Those rules can be valuable insofar as they help guide you towards delicious cocktails, but they’re not laws; as long as the final product is delicious, they reasoned, who cares how you get there? That a drink might have a tangerine and chaat-masala gastrique didn’t make it new, it just made it unreplicable. Real creativity was in breaking down the molds, using the same ingredients everyone else has, just using them differently.

This became a philosophy, which became a manifesto, which became a book, Rogue Cocktails (re-worked and re-published as Beta Cocktails , after a silly legal challenge). “Fellow bartenders and cocktail aficionados,” begins the Rogue Cocktails manifesto, “the international cocktail Renaissance is in danger of falling into a state of discontent and stagnation… It’s time to surprise our customers and each other with something that challenges the palate, not just soothes it with familiar and balanced flavors.”

What followed was a list of opinionated precepts (e.g. “mustaches and arm garters do not make you a bartender”) and a small collection of about four dozen cocktails, both from the duo and from their like-minded industry friends. Their project remains today, 15 years later, the most original and creative cocktail books ever published. Bitters were used ounces at a time. Liqueurs became base spirits. Ice became optional. Sometimes you stirred citrus (against the rules!) and one drink was literally just Campari and salt. It’s where the Growing Old… comes from, and how the Bitter Giuseppe got popularized. It was bold and challenging, punk rock from beginning to end, and it’s not an exaggeration to say it changed the modern cocktail landscape forever.

But before any of that happened, back behind the bar at Cure, the duo refined the Gunshop Fizz. It is the signature drink of Rogue Cocktails and emblematic of their philosophy, a Pimm’s Cup , essentially, but with a frankly insane two full ounces of Peychaud’s Bitters instead of the eponymous Pimm’s. That it tastes great is miraculous, like a watermelon Jolly Rancher that grew up handsome, with anise, cherry cough drops, and a broad melon fruitiness above a surprisingly mild bitter backnote that reminds you of grapefruit juice. The Gunshop Fizz is totally unconventional, resolutely delicious, and as un-boring as a drink can conceivably be “an example of that’s possible,” they wrote, “when you throw out the rule book.”

Gunshop Fizz

• 2 oz. Peychaud’s Bitters
• 1 oz. lemon juice
• 1 oz. simple syrup
• 2 strawberries
• 3 cucumber slices
• 3 swaths of grapefruit peel
• 3 swaths of orange peel
• Sanbitter

Add all the ingredients except Sanbitter to a mixing tin. Muddle and set aside for two minutes to allow the flavors to blend. Then add ice, shake, and strain over fresh ice in a Collins glass. Top with Sanbitter. Garnish with a cucumber slice or strawberry or both.

How to Make a Fort Tilden Cooler, the Sophisticated Beachy Cocktail

NOTES ON INGREDIENTS

Peychaud’s Bitters: At 35 percent alcohol, Peychaud’s form the base spirit of this drink. They are specific and necessary—Angostura or orange bitters simply will not do. Also, take care that you’re not using Peychaud’s “Barrel Aged” Bitters. You need their original Aromatic Cocktail Bitters here.

Simple Syrup: Simple Syrup is just a way to use white sugar in a bar setting without stopping to make sure all the sugar is dissolved in your cocktail each and every time. To make it, grab a half cup of sugar and a half cup of warm or hot water, and put them together in a bowl. Whisk until the sugar dissolves. The hotter the water, the faster it will dissolve, about 20 seconds with boiling water or 2 minutes with room temperature.

Produce: This is designed to imitate a Pimm’s Cup, with its attendant menagerie of garnishes, hence all the stuff. The cucumber and strawberries are strictly necessary. Multiple swaths of the same citrus peel is a move Rogue Cocktails uses a lot, and what it’s doing here is increasing the volume of the flavor. Peychaud’s Bitters at this quantity is brash and loud, and the multiple citrus peels rise to meet it.

Sanbitter: Sanbitter is a tiny, bright red, non-alcoholic bitter soda from Italy, essentially an N/A Campari Soda. It’s pretty wonderful on its own and one of the biggest tools in my non-drinking arsenal when I choose to abstain, so probably worth having around anyway. The problem is that unless you’re in Italy, it can be hard to find. For years I had never tried this drink because couldn’t find Sanbitter. It’s on Amazon now so that’s no longer a huge problem, but I’ll say if you don’t want to bother, you can just use about 0.25 oz. Campari and top with soda and it would be comparable, especially with so many other flavors going on.

How to Make a Scorpion Bowl, a Smooth Tiki Punch With a Strong Sting