Something and Tonic: A History of the World's Most Iconic Mixer

By Nick Kokonas

The expanse of western civilization was hindered by a mosquito bite. For centuries, malaria devastated the European explorers who defined the contours of our modern world map-and the indigenous people who resisted them. The cure? Quinine contained in the bark of the South American cinchona tree, whose medicinal properties were discovered around

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bark to Bottle Publishing LLC
• Release date: May 28, 2021
• ISBN: 9780578854588

Book preview

Introduction

‘Friends don’t let friends drink Vodka Tonics.’

- DAVID WONDRICH

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My grandma’s drink of choice was always a vodka tonic. When I was growing up in the early 90s, the suburban drinking culture I became familiar with through observing my family was not renowned for quality of ingredients. My grandfather would say the most expensive part of grandma’s highball was the lime and joked about how whenever he would give her $20 to buy vodka, she’d show up with a handle in a value pack with a bottle of aspirin for the inevitable hangover and pocket the $10 change.

To this day, my aunts and uncles have abandoned plastic bottles of firewater tucked into the back of their liquor cabinets, alongside an expired arsenal of 296 ml bottles of tonic water for just such occasions. Grandma is no longer with us, but the memory of a bubbling glass garnished with two lime wedges within arm’s reach at every party will continue to linger. I realize now, well into my career in the beverage industry, the drinks around during my adolescence presaged my life today.

It’s possible my love for tonic began in those formative years: a quick sip off the top of grandma’s glass when the adults were preoccupied preparing dinner or greeting late-comers as the party began to unfurl. My face would pucker the moment her concoction hit my lips. The bitter highball assaulted my developing taste buds. I was completely unable to understand why somebody would voluntarily drink such an astringent combination.

But curiosity is diabolical. Before long, I would return, loitering around the drink table for the opportunity to sneak another sip of that mystifying beverage. To this day, I can still be found loitering around the drink table. My youthful curiosity has developed into an unquenchable thirst for in-depth knowledge about worldly beverages, which led me deep into the South American jungle, literally and figuratively.

What follows is the tale of the cinchona (sin-Koh-nuh) tree, the cornerstone of what we know today as tonic water. Much of its history is steeped in centuries of imperial colonization, religious prejudice, denial of science, corporate greed, and extreme nationalism. In short, the story of cinchona is the story of the development of modern civilization. Without its bark, the European explorers who defined the contours of our modern world map—and the indigenous people who resisted them—would have continued to succumb to fever and death. It’s a sobering history for a happy hour highball.

The South American cinchona tree thrived in the far reaches of mountain jungles long before European invaders descended on the Americas, unleashing a plethora of diseases into the region. The key component in the tree’s bark is quinine, an alkaloid that arrests the symptoms of the potentially fatal blood disease malaria. Malaria has existed throughout various parts of the world long before humans walked the Earth, as fossil evidence indicates the disease dates back 10-20 million years.

Despite modern medical advances, malaria is still a significant concern. It infects over a quarter of a billion people per year worldwide and is responsible for an estimated half a million deaths. Those who have traveled to malarial regions across South America, Africa, or Southeast Asia are well aware of the recommended precautions and can attest to shelling out a few hundred dollars for preventative medication. Alas, such a luxury is not afforded to large numbers of those living within malaria riddled areas.

Today, much to the dismay of the vacationing drinker, modern tonic water doesn’t contain enough quinine to quell the disease. Laws restrict the amount of quinine used due to the toxic side effects of overconsumption. Ingesting too much quinine can lead to cinchonism, a condition with a myriad of symptoms that affect hearing, vision, digestion, and more. Therefore, since the development of synthetic alternatives, quinine is no longer rated as the preferred method of malaria prevention.

Those alternatives were slow to arrive, however. It took more than 250 years from the colonial discovery of the cinchona tree for Europeans to fully understand malaria. Three scientists, working independently, each expanding on their predecessors’ work, would find the exact cause of what was historically referred to as ‘fever and ague.’ For years, the sickness, named so for its common symptoms, was thought to be caused by ‘bad air,’ or ‘mala aria’ in Italian, found around swamps and marshlands.

Female-Anopheles-Mosquito

Female Anopheles mosquito

In truth, malaria is caused by a plasmodium blood parasite passed back and forth in an interdependent relationship between the female Anopheles mosquito and humans. When an infected mosquito bites a person, parasite larvae are transferred into the bloodstream via the mosquito’s saliva. Once the larvae hatch in the host’s liver, they invade red blood cells, feed on the hemoglobin, and begin to reproduce.

When a mosquito bites a person who has malaria, it ingests the parasite. Sexual reproduction occurs in the mosquito’s abdomen, and the newly laid larvae travel to the mosquito’s saliva glands, where the whole cycle begins again.

Symptoms arise as a result of biological waste building up in the bloodstream. When that happens, the person develops intermittent fevers and uncontrollable shaking. The quinine found in cinchona bark prevents the parasites from reproducing but doesn’t actually kill them. Instead, it’s believed quinine inhibits the parasite’s early asexual reproduction stage, allowing the body a chance to filter toxins out of the bloodstream. In the process, fevers break, and symptoms fade. Today, there continues to remain unanswered questions regarding specifically how this interaction takes place.

Finding a drinker who is unfamiliar with the effervescent ingredient is nearly impossible. While tonic is a staple mixer in every bar worldwide, the understanding of what tonic actually is eludes the average drinker. Right this minute, a gin and tonic, fondly known as the G&T, and its many variations are being made and enjoyed around the globe, from lonely dive bars to award-winning cocktail bars.

The beauty of the highball, however, is the ease with which it can be made. For decades, home bartenders have kept Schweppes tonic as a permanent fixture on their grocery list. A case of Schweppes is seemingly the platform most tonic drinkers stand on, and not without reason: Schweppes is the world’s oldest continuing producer of tonic water.

In recent years, a shift has occurred in the cocktail world to focus on high-quality ingredients. The old standby tonic companies left a void to be filled by those unsatisfied with the flavor profile of commercial brands, which have become more reminiscent of slightly bitter lemon-lime soda. Bartenders and enthusiastic tonic drinkers, frustrated by the uninspired flavor of commercial tonics, began macerating, infusing, and bottling their own syrups and waters. Many artisan and premium products sold today started either behind the stick or in mason jars stacked on kitchen counters. So, what exactly is tonic, and how did it make its way into the most iconic highball in the world?

The first time a tonic cocktail changed my perception of the mixer’s potential, I was working at a now-defunct wine bar in Chicago. The beverage director had just returned from honeymooning in Portugal and immediately added a new cocktail to our summer menu: the white port and tonic.

The staff gathered haphazardly around the bar to taste the newly imported drink. At that time, nobody on the team was overly interested in the cocktail program, which was viewed simply as an accompaniment to a well-curated wine list. To this day, I can still remember the shock and delight at that first delicate, refreshing sip. Such complexity emerged out of such simplicity. The semi-sweet white port was balanced by the tonic’s bitterness. The dry, nutty finish and lingering freshness left my palate longing for more. I immediately fell in love with this quintessential summer highball.

After several years, a few more jobs, and more than a few drinks, I would dive into the deep end of the tonic world. It all began when a friend asked me to come aboard as the beverage director for a new restaurant opening just outside Chicago. I jumped at the opportunity.

A week before presenting cocktails to the restaurant’s owners and management team, I prepared an admittedly poorly-composed and executed cocktail for a prominent gin company’s national competition. I called it the G & Tea. The concept was green tea-infused gin with quinine liqueur and sparkling sake to be served in a bulb wine glass a la a Spanish-style gin tonica. (Full disclosure: It’s a drink I have yet to perfect, but it’s the one that got me thinking about ways to expand on integrating tonic into cocktails.)

By the time the cocktail tasting for the beverage director position rolled around, I’d come up with the idea to create a menu of just tonic cocktails alongside the main drink list. I had a few variations in mind and needed a unique way to showcase them. What emerged from that plan was the Something & Tonic: a weekly rotating cocktail featuring tonic water, tonic syrup, or quinine liqueur in some way, shape, or form. When the revolving drink first hit the menu, I was as knowledgeable about tonic as any average bartender. In this case, knowing the basics was not enough. Bartenders bear the responsibility to inform and entertain their guests. So, I certainly couldn’t feature tonic without understanding everything I could about what it is and where it came from. There is no great drink that doesn’t brandish a great story, be it fact or fiction, and I’ve come to find tonic is undoubtedly riddled with both. The closer I looked, the greater the epic became.

The rotating Something & Tonic carried that history and unlocked my creativity to approach the ingredient outside of the typical applications. The collection of original drink recipes that follow the remarkable history contained in the first half of this book are intended to inspire the reader (read: drinker), as well as