Two hundred years later, master bartenders, historians, and self-professed cocktail “geeks” have assembled in The Museum of the American Cocktail in Commander’s Palace in Las Vegas. They are gathered to celebrate the bicentennial anniversary of the cocktail. Surrounded by antique silver cocktail shakers, 100-year-old bottles of bitters, original posters espousing prohibition, and collectible Trader Vic tiki mugs, the bartenders work their magic. Dale DeGroff, former longtime bartender at the Rainbow Room in New York City, is shaking up a frothy, fruity beverage he calls the French 76, “a French 75 plus one ingredient,” he playfully smirks. Tony Abou-Ganim, creator of the classic rum-based Cable Car, is pouring a sweet, satisfying concoction dubbed High Society. And fourth-generation bartender Chris McMillian, of the Ritz- Carlton’s Library Lounge in New Orleans, is shaking a traditional sazerac, the quintessential bourbon cocktail of Crescent City.

“The cocktail…it’s as American as jazz, apple pie, and baseball,” DeGroff says. “You could say the cocktail was the first American cuisine to gain international recognition and respect,” says Robert Hess, founding member of the museum and managing editor of Mixologist: The Journal of the American Cocktail.

On the wall of the museum behind Vegas bartender “Bobby G” Gleason hangs a reproduction of the May 13, 1806 edition of The Balance, and Columbian Repository. Published 200 years ago, the newspaper out of Hudson, New York, printed the first known definition of the cocktail. The paper had previously published a list of expenditures from a local political campaign in which a candidate listed “cocktails” under the column for expenses. When a loyal reader wrote to the paper to inquire what a cocktail was, the editor responded:

Cock tail…is a stimulating liquor, composed of spirits of any kind, sugar, water, and bitters. It is vulgarly called a bittered sling, and is supposed to be an excellent electioneering potion inasmuch as it renders the heart stout and bold, at the same time that it fuddles the head. It is said also, to be of great use to a democratic candidate: Because, a person having swallowed a glass of it, is ready to swallow any thing else.

The American cocktail had arrived.

In 1862, bartender Jerry Thomas published the first bartender’s guide. “It contained ten recipes,” says Ted Haigh, curator of the museum and author of Vintage Spirits & Forgotten Cocktails. One of those drinks was the Champagne Cocktail: champagne, sugar, bitters, and a lemon twist. “It hasn’t changed a bit since it was introduced,” Haigh explains.

The next 50 years are considered the golden age of American cocktails. Drinks became more complex. By the early 20th century, more than 100 different cocktails were available, and they had colorful names like the Monkey Gland, the Bosom Caresser, and the Corpse Reviver.

Cocktails were part of fine cuisine, masterfully blended formulas comprised of only the freshest ingredients and quality spirits. Bartenders were sharp-dressed magicians of mixology, celebrities of the day, often working in grand hotels. An account published as early as 1856 sets the scene:

The barkeeper…his drinks are pictures. See that tall tumbler, gracefully proportioned, elegantly chased. See through its pellucid walls the artfully chiseled blocks of purist ice, the frozen powder at the top…. See the blessed liquor within, ruddy, golden, or orange tawny, dancing in the sunlight, sparkling in the glassy depths…. The barkeeper and his assistants…they are all bottle conjurers. They toss the drinks about; they throw brimful glasses over their heads; they shake the saccharine, glacial, and alcoholic ingredients in long tin tubes; they scourge eggs and cream into froth; they send bumpers shooting from one end of the bar to the other without spilling a drop.

But the ascendancy of the bartender as mixologist would take a temporary dip. During Prohibition (1919–1933) many bartenders left America for Europe. The cocktail didn’t capture the hearts of Europeans, but American bars catering to American tourists and expatriates did. Harry’s New York Bar in Paris and the American Bar at The Savoy Hotel in London gained prominence in this era.

“Those in Europe came up with different flavor pairings and a more modern way of looking at the cocktail,” Ted Haigh says. The Bloody Mary and the Sidecar originated in these Europe-based American-style bars.

After World War II, America discovered vodka. The liquor was touted as modern, clean, refreshing, and sophisticated, Haigh says. Before long, the dry vodka martini was taking hold. Over the next 20 years, the martini got drier and drier. Earlier versions were made with half sweet gin and half sweet vermouth. Later, the original dry martinis were half dry gin and half dry vermouth. When vodka arrived, the dry vodka martini (your father’s martini) became vodka with just a splash of dry vermouth. Few drinks have had more influence on American cocktail culture than the martini.

In the 1950s and ’60s, “cocktail hour” became a daily cultural ritual. Martinis got so dry that patrons would often joke when ordering one, “Just glance at the bottle of vermouth when you pour the vodka.” (These dry martinis aren’t cocktails, says Robert Hess. “A cocktail should be a blending of flavors,” he insists, not straight vodka.)

By 1968, the cocktail became the subject of jokes, Haigh explains. It became a symbol of the “establishment.” The cocktail then became more closely identified with unfettered alcohol consumption than with fine dining. In the 1980s, mixed drinks took a whimsical turn. With the introduction of drinks like the Fuzzy Navel and the Long Island Iced Tea, “we saw the utter destruction of the cocktail,” Haigh laments.

Today, syrupy-sweet, prefab concoctions like the Sour Apple Pucker and peach schnapps make purists like DeGroff, Haigh, and Hess cringe. The Museum of the American Cocktail is dedicated to reviving the golden age of these libations, when drinks were made with flair, using only the freshest ingredients. The museum regularly sponsors cocktail dinners in various cities around the U.S., where cocktails are a complement to fine cuisine.

Robert Hess is optimistic. In recent years, restaurants, bars, and patrons in most major American cities are waking up to the idea of fresh ingredients and quality cocktails. “It wasn’t that long ago that people thought that good coffee came out of a can,” he says. And they’ll come around, he adds. “The cocktail is like MacGyver,” Ted Haigh says with a wry smile. “It keeps almost getting killed off and then something really interesting happens.”