How to Make the Rattlesnake, the Whiskey Sour With an Absinthe Bite
The Rattlesnake isn’t actually dangerous. It was all just a big misunderstanding.
A Rattlesnake is essentially a Whiskey Sour made with rye (as opposed to bourbon) and a dash of absinthe. This seemingly minor tweak has big flavor implications and makes a substantively different drink (more on this below), but in order to understand the Rattlesnake, you need to first understand something about absinthe.
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Absinthe, to give a radically condensed history, was hugely popular, then reviled and feared for about 100 years, and has only recently come back. That dark middle period begins in the late 1800s, when people began to believe that absinthe would make you lose your mind and possibly murder your own family. This is, mercifully, untrue, but it’s interesting to see this misinformation infect the culture: In 1876, a cocktail with a dash of absinthe in it was called an “Improved Cocktail,” but by the early to mid 1900s, absinthe was understood very differently. It was the “arsenic” in the Arsenic and Old Lace, the “death” in the Death in the Afternoon, and a Whiskey Sour with a dash of absinthe was changed to a Rattlesnake—something dangerous, full of venom—with Harry Craddock, in whose 1930 Savoy Cocktail Bookthe Rattlesnake first appears, writing that it is “so called because it will either cure rattlesnake bite, or kill rattlesnakes, or make you see them.”
This statement perfectly encompasses the contemporary ignorance and confusion about absinthe. Craddock writes this because it was variously believed that the spirit was medicinal (nope), poisonous (not especially) or hallucinogenic (not even close). It is, to be clear, blisteringly high-proof alcohol which does come with some attendant risks, but we now understand that absinthe—the so-called “Green Fairy”—has no special witchcraft with which to ensnare you.
What absinthe actually is is a flying drop-kick of herbaceousness. At the core of it are herbs—grand wormwood, green anise, and fennel—that are infused and re-distilled and flavored usually with more herbs like angelica, star anise, licorice root, and others. What all this means for your cocktail is that when you add a couple dashes of absinthe to the drink, what you’re essentially doing is grabbing the herbal dial and twisting it right as far as it will go.
Which brings us back to the Rattlesnake. While a standard Whiskey Sour is a delightful experience, almost invariably mixed with bourbon and made smooth and unobjectionable with egg white, the Rattlesnake is that same framework but greener. Rye whiskey is an inherently grainier, spicier, and more herbaceous experience than the corn-based bourbon (we think of bourbon vs. rye as analogous to cornbread vs. rye bread). Add absinthe to that and it’s a double barrel blast of herbs and spice, a synergistic effect so beautifully exemplified by drinks like the Sazerac, but in this case made bright and refreshing. It’s got all the crowd-pleasing smoothness and refinement of a Whiskey Sour but with a prickly texture—if a Whiskey Sour is like petting a dog, a Rattlesnake is like petting a horse. That it’s named after one of the most dangerous animals in the world is immaterial. I suppose it could hurt you, but it almost certainly won’t.
Rattlesnake
2 oz. rye whiskey
0.75 oz. Lemon Juice
0.75 oz. Simple Syrup
1 tsp. (about 1/6 oz.) Absinthe
1 egg white
Add all ingredients to a cocktail shaker and shake briefly without ice to whip the egg. Add ice and shake good and hard for 10 to 12 seconds. Strain up into a sour glass or big coupe and garnish with drops of Angostura Bitters and/or a lemon peel.
NOTES ON INGREDIENTS
Rye Whiskey: It is important that the whiskey be rye, as opposed to bourbon, which as mentioned has a forward herbaceousness and a kinetic presence on the palate. Beyond that, all styles of rye will be good. Old classics certainly work, as would some of the newcomers—my favorite new ryes I’ve tasted lately are the Woodinville Rye from Washington (100 percent rye, soft grainy spice and herbs) and the Never Say Die Rye (75 percent rye, 33 percent corn, 11 percent barley, punchier, with a big biscuity sweetness and the rye spice fireworks at the end). All would be good.
Absinthe: Each bottle of absinthe, even though it’s used a scant teaspoon at a time, will make a dramatically different cocktail. It’s hard to know what to do with this fact. From a 35,000-foot view, it is correct to say that any and all proper absinthe will make a delicious Rattlesnake. Zooming in a touch, I’d say you’d want a green one (verte) as opposed to a clear one (blanche) because the green ones get their color from a secondary herb infusion, and herbaceousness is kind of the point. You could more granular still, but I don’t think any one brand stands out so much over any other in this application, so that’s probably where I’d leave you—my favorite bottles for cocktails are the friendly Butterfly Classic, the stalwart Pernod, the broody La Fée Parisienne Verte, or if you can find it, the beautiful Absinthe Sauvage 1804.
Egg White: You need an egg white to neutralize the astringent tannins in the whiskey and smooth the whole thing out. If you’re vegetarian or just don’t want to, aquafaba (the liquid from a can of chickpeas) serves a similar purpose, though it will come with a slight flavor of its own. The only other thing to add here is that various foaming substitutes seem to be in vogue—Fee Foam, Ms. Betters Miraculous Foamer, a homemade methylcellulose syrup—and those do indeed put a layer of foam atop the cocktail and might even thicken the texture, but they do nothing at all for the tannins and are therefore useless in this case. Use egg whites or aquafaba or make something else.
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