The Best Sazerac Cocktail Recipe, According to Experts

Since the last time we blind-tasted Sazeracs, in 2018, the New Orleans–born cocktail has hit a consistent groove. “There was a moment where it peaked and people were loading it up with bitters—five dashes of Ango and Peychaud’s—there were a lot more high-proof spirits, a lot more punches to the face,” recalls Gage & Tollner owner St. John Frizell. “Now we’re over that hump and the drink has settled into something more classic.” 

Of the 11 versions sampled at our recent tasting at Brooklyn’s Maison Premiere (whose own recipe, one of several options available via tableside service, is a standout rendition), only two stood out as drinks the judges would be disappointed to receive—a marked improvement from the first go-round. But that doesn’t mean the Sazerac is an easy drink to get right. There are many considerations that, despite seeming small, can have a big impact on the end result. Sugar cube or syrup? Roll the absinthe to line the glass or spray it from an atomizer? Discard or insert the lemon twist? How many dashes of Peychaud’s bitters? Should there be Angostura, too? As Sarah Morrissey, bar manager at Manhattan’s Le Veau d’Or, explains, “building the drink demands attention: A good Sazerac comes down to a dash of this or that.” Frizell agrees, adding that with so few ingredients—all potent ones, at that—even something as innocuous as the bitters bottle (or the volume of said bitters bottle, which can alter the volume of the dash) can impact the outcome. “Possibly more than any other drink in the canon, the Sazerac depends entirely on the hand of the bartender who is making it,” says Frizell. “Two bartenders, given the same Sazerac recipe, can make two drinks that taste very different.”

Of course, one of the biggest questions up for debate is which base spirit to use: rye or Cognac. One version of the drink’s history purports that the latter was the original base spirit until the phylloxera plague of the late 19th century created shortages. Despite its primacy being debunked, the Cognac iteration lives on as a common alternative to the rye original. Of the 11 recipes sampled in this tasting, only one used Cognac as the sole base spirit, though two others called for it as part of a split base. The judges were open to both profiles, but considered rye to be the traditional and archetypal choice. 

Fittingly, all three of the judges’ favorites were rye-based. Taking top honors was Alec Bales of Ticonderoga Club in Atlanta. His version calls for two ounces of Rye & Sons whiskey, a quarter-ounce of rich cane syrup, six dashes of Peychaud’s bitters and one dash of Ango. It’s made by filling a rocks glass halfway with crushed ice and a quarter-ounce of Herbsaint, rolling it to coat the interior of the glass, then dumping the crushed ice, ensuring a little bit of Herbsaint is left behind. The rest of the ingredients are stirred with ice separately, then strained into the prepared glass and garnished with a lemon twist. The anise of the Herbsaint interacted with the spice character of the rye without either becoming overpowering. The judges’ only nit to pick was that the lemon twist was not discarded, a preference shared by all the tasters. Morrissey noted: “When I tasted it, I wasn’t trying to dissect it right away; I just said to myself, ‘This is really good.’”

Second place went to Neal Bodenheimer of Cure in New Orleans. His version is built on two ounces of Sazerac rye, a quarter-ounce of rich Demerara syrup and 23 drops (or 3 dashes) of Peychaud’s bitters. The glass it’s served in is sprayed four times with Herbsaint from an atomizer and the drink is garnished with a lemon twist. The rye of choice lent the drink a peppery note, and overall this Sazerac had an appealing richness that Morrissey likened to brown butter. 

Taking the third spot was Fives Bar, a relative newcomer to the New Orleans cocktail bar scene. Their version uses Wild Turkey 101 rye (ordered in situ, the rye is fat-washed with bone marrow), complemented by a quarter-ounce of rich cane syrup, five dashes of Peychaud’s and two dashes of Angostura bitters, served in an Herbsaint-rinsed glass. The Angostura was a welcome addition that, according to Frizell, was able “to ground everything, otherwise it can get too anise-y.” All the judges commented on the richer body of this version, with Ben Crispin, Maison Premiere’s general manager, observing that “it has some weight to it, it’s velvety—it doesn’t have the density of water.” 

Across the board, the Sazeracs reflected the archetype that Frizell had outlined at the start of the tasting: “A Sazerac is like a glass of iced tea that you’re drinking in a courtyard in the French Quarter. It shouldn’t be too complicated, it should be very easy to drink.”