Welcome to Sidecar No Sugar, a weekly Boothby newsletter about Brisbane bars and the people, work and creativity that grounds it. (You can sign up to get it in your inbox each week, right here.) This week, I have imparted my opinions of cocktail names and how they impact the experience of a drink.
If you have info the Brisbane bar community should know, please email me contact@beccawang.com.au or send me a message via Instagram (@supper.partying).
As I scanned the cocktail list at The French Exit, the new bistro by the Anyday group, my left eye twitched and my stomach roiled. What kind of ritualistic hazing or John Quiñones hypothetical is making your customers look their doe-eyed 19-year-old waiter in the eye and ask, “May I please order the cocktail called, ‘What’s that English saying about feet and shoes?’” I’ll just have a Martini, thanks.
What is it about a long cocktail name or terrible pun that makes us wince? Names are subjective in the same way writing is, but regardless, we don’t live in a vacuum and all words communicate culture, creativity and effort. Fruit puns are absolutely vetoed.
Perhaps it’s vain or a touch of cultural literacy supremacy, but I can’t help but judge a cocktail by its name. Like any other product, a drink’s name does arguably half of the heavy lifting. Realistically, non-hospitality guests have minimal understanding of how the listed ingredients under a drink will taste. When reading a cocktail menu, they, along with the rest of us (let’s be real), gravitate to ingredients we already like or are familiar with – unless the name is so intriguing or amusing it makes the ingredients sound desirable. I know that when I see a deftly named cocktail (that is, a snappy cultural reference, a witty pun or a word with great mouthfeel), my confirmation bias will do all in its power to imagine the combination of ingredients to be the most delicious pairing in the history of the world – and freakishly, most of the time it works. Never underestimate the power of confirmation bias.
How much does a cocktail name affect its identity and perception? In the visual art world, many artists choose not to name their works to avoid imposing meaning and allowing the viewer to form their own interpretations for a pure visual or emotional experience. What if we didn’t name cocktails? How would that affect its experience?
From 2025’s Boothby Top 50 Drinks of the Year, there are 14 drinks with names that reference a key ingredient, for example, Half Time Oranges, Apple Butter and Quince Caramel Whisky Sour. This type of name narrows the scope of what the drink will or should taste like, but this can also be an opportunity to surprise guests if you play your cards right. A classic cocktail that does this well is the Coffee Cocktail, a cognac flip with port that has nary a drop of coffee but tastes just like a creamy coffee beverage – confirmation bias or objective coffee flavour? Ingredient-heavy names narrow the imagination, yes, but they also offer reassurance. These names operate as guardrails, particularly for guests who are ordering with limited knowledge. The trade-off is that it’s a bit of a snorefest. When a drink tastes exactly as named, the best reaction warranted is, “Yep, it tastes just like carrot cake.” The worst is if it doesn’t taste anything like it advertises (we’ve all been there before), you may have confusion and/or a complaint OTW. In this category, success hinges on whether the bartender understands how to weaponise expectation rather than simply meet it.
From the rest of the Top 50 list, we can deduce three other types of naming conventions and the effect they could have on the guest.
Colour-based names (Pink Pony Club, Electric Blue):
- Purely reflects the mood.
- These names are often dismissed as unserious but they are arguably some of the most generous.
- Allows the drinker to opt into a feeling without needing an understanding of classics, ingredients or technique.
- Makes use of the most universal human experience.
Cocktail categories or classics:
- Relies on shared knowledge and rewards literacy.
- A riff invites comparison, which can be satisfying for experienced drinkers but can alienate others.
- Kind of lazy, to be frank.
The wildcard or cultural-reference name (Loose Teeth, Caspar Milquetoast, The Grand Budapest Hotel):
- Most indulgent and most risky.
- Expands the imaginative field without offering any sensory cues, which can have a high payoff.
- Could be perceived as performative cleverness…ick.
- The gap between intention and reception is widest.
- Most creative!
The Last Word
- Winnifred’s on Arthur is hiring a champagne bar attendant and offering between $70,000 and $80,000 a year.
- Restaurant Venner (from the owners of Before + After and Milquetoast) is opening at the end of February (and are hiring a casual bartender).
- The Gresham is also hiring!
