Old Man Winter has made yet another appearance in our area. Let’s strap on our snow boots, button up our pea coats, and head out for one of these cocktails – comforting, adult alternatives to hot cocoa. By Jessica Allen.
More: NYC’s 5 Best Hot Cocktails
Creamy and luscious, the voodoo milk punch at the Clover Club takes the edge off, and then some. This winter special starts with warm milk, to which demerara syrup, Benedictine liqueur, and aged rum are added. While this cocktail bar in Boeurum Hill has pressed tin ceilings and étoile wallpaper, it still manages to maintain a 21st-century vibe. So, yes, feel free to take an Instagram of that cocktail before you drink.
Pates et Traditions is a Francophile’s paradise, with knickknacks like a heart made from corks lining the walls, old French cookbooks, and a tri-color bandana hanging in the window. This restaurant in Williamsburg specializes in dishes from the south of France with a North African inflection, such as crepes stuffed with shrimp curry or Merguez sausage. And then there’s the mulled wine: red wine spiced with cinnamon and heated until just boiling and served in an oversized coffee mug.
Tipsy Parson injects an element of southern homeyness into Chelsea. At this charming restaurant, biscuits come with gravy, grits come from South Carolina, and the waitstaff promises you won’t leave hungry. Or thirsty, especially when you order the hot buttered rum. To begin, hot water melts the “batter,” a mixture of light brown and dark brown sugar, cinnamon anglaise, and butter. To finish, a shot of Sailor Jerry rum and some freshly grated nutmeg. Stirred, not shaken.
L.A. Burdick, a chocolate shop in the Flatiron district, sells all kinds of artisanal, small-batch, hand-crafted, carefully sourced chocolate, including the drinkable kind. Among the six flavors of hot chocolate are a full-bodied Ecuadorian and a fruiter Grenadian. For a truly adult, truly decadent experience, add a shot of liquor, such as Ron Zacapa Rum or Macallan Scotch Whiskey. Mom never made it like this.
In keeping with its decidedly rustic, intensely throwback attitude, Freemans named this drink “grandad’s coffee.” You might expect to be handed a cigar to smoke or a flannel cap to wear while you drink this take on coffee, flavored with walnut liqueur, brandy, and sweet cream. You might expect Hemingway to walk in or perhaps Faulkner, to chat with you beneath taxidermied creatures, or to autograph one of the handback volumes lining the walls. Alas, you’d be wrong on all counts, but, boy, this stuff is good.