The story begins not with the crunch of snow or the splash of spirits, but with silence – the quiet absence of something precious. It begins with what was once celebrated and then suppressed, cherished and then almost forgotten. Before shaking and stirring cocktails, Indian drinking was ceremonial – deeply rooted in ritual, identity and reverence. Our spirits were not mere beverages; Those were the calls. They had a sense of memory, heritage and belonging.
This chapter revisits that silence, retraces the journey from glory to extinction, and lays the foundation for revival. To truly appreciate what we are rediscovering, we must first remember the time when whiskey touched our shores.
Once upon a time, there was no whiskey
Long before imported liquor arrived in mixer-lined bars and crates, India spoke a distinct drinking language – distinctly regional, deeply ritualized and quietly reassuring.
In royal courts, the drink dipped in saffron was poured from silver cups, indicating status and sophistication. On the southern coasts, fresh toddy was taken out at dawn, passed from hand to hand with the easy intimacy of village gossip. In tribal areas, flowers, fruits and grains are fermented silently without recipes, guided only by intuition.
In Arunachal, rice beer was not just a drink; It marked the celebrations of life. In Odisha, fermented wine honored the seasonal harvest and connected the community deeply to the land. And in Chhattisgarh, Mahua was not just a soul – it was sustenance, devotion, livelihood and song.
We were never casual drinkers. Our traditions were intentional, layered, and inventive. Every beverage has meaning, context and cultural pride. They were not objects; They were community offerings – each presenting an act of storytelling.
the great extinction
Then came the British – and with them, a new gospel: If it wasn’t bottled in Europe, it wasn’t drinkable. He didn’t just import souls, he imported judgment too. Local brewers were criminalized, taxed, and banned. Indigenous furnaces were closed. Toddy tappers became criminals. What was once sacred was now ‘illegal’.
Over generations, we have learned to despise our souls. Mahua became the ‘drink of the poor’. Feeny was reduced to holiday souvenirs. Arak was pushed into the shadows.
In their place came Scotch, gin and rum – symbols of sophistication. We weren’t just robbed of our drinks – we were robbed of our pride in drinking.
Comeback: A Cocktail Renaissance
History moves in cycles, and ultimately, it brings us home.
Today, India is experiencing a quiet but powerful renaissance – reclaiming the cocktail culture that was always ours. From the stylish backyards of Bandra to the hidden speakeasies of Goa, a new generation of bartenders and drinkers are rediscovering the spirits that were once pushed aside.
Mahua is now being cold-distilled and elegantly bottled like a fine fragrance. Goa Feni ages beautifully in teak casks, making its way into sophisticated Negronis. Ingredients that were once dismissed as merely ‘local’ – Gondhraaj lemon, kokum, basil, jaggery, tamarind – have become the soulful heart of modern Indian cocktails.
We are no longer looking outside for inspiration. We are defining our tradition, creating a uniquely Indian cocktail canon – rich in heritage, daring in creativity, and authentic in every way.
why this book now
Madeira Cocktails are more than a collection of recipes; It is a living document of revival.
Think of it as part drinker’s diary, part cultural exploration, and completely a celebration of the senses. Inside, you’ll find temple offerings, roadside stalls, royal kitchens, hidden forests and cocktails inspired by festive celebrations. Each recipe is a gateway to an experience – some deeply personal, others meticulously researched, many witnessed firsthand, and some happily imagined.
Yet every cocktail in these pages is bound by the same conviction: India’s indigenous spirits deserve to be recognised, respected and rediscovered.
…So, here’s everything we once overlooked: fermented, forgotten, flavored…
Deccan Spice Negroni
Stubborn Spirit of the South
Story: Dattanna’s Glass, Dattanna’s Laws
Even at the age of 80, Dattanna used to drink alcohol.
Not casually. Not socially. Just one drink. every evening. Same glass. Same chair. Same critical look at anyone who dared to suggest light beer.
It wasn’t about the alcohol. It was about ritual.
His drink of choice? A Negroni – well, kind of. He tweaked it decades ago, using dried kokum from a backyard tree in place of foreign bitters and mixing gin with the cinnamon bark his late wife used to add to her Sunday biryani.
The family called him stubborn. He called it a legacy.
‘It stops me from being British inside,’ he mutters, swirling a dark red concoction in a glass older than most of his grandchildren.
Every year, they tried to change it.
‘Appa, try this new low-ABV spirit.’ ‘No, Thatha, we got you this fancy Japanese whiskey.’
‘This year, no drinking – doctor’s orders!’
And every year, he would nod politely, listen patiently, and at exactly 6:45, pour himself a Deccan Spice Negroni.
One part gin, one part kokum-syrup vermouth, one part bitter spirits he declined to name.
He shook it without any fuss, without a shaker, without garnish. Just a piece of dried kokum buried beneath like a secret he was unwilling to tell.
At Diwali celebrations, someone would always try to impress him with a ‘Smoked Margarita’ or a ‘Desi Old-Fashioned’.
He had to take a sip, moan and mutter:
‘This is all drama. ‘Real drink has bite.’
And that’s what the Deccan Spice Negroni was – spicy, complex, earthy. Like its creator.
When he passed, they found a notebook under his cot. Four pages were blank. There was only one thing in the fifth:
1. Take the one who is foreign.
2. Add what’s yours.
3. Be proud.
Now, every year, on his birthday, the family makes a batch. Some people still turn up their noses at Kokum. But they drink it anyway.
Because it doesn’t matter what they believe in –
Everyone agrees: Dattanna was right about gin.
What makes this cocktail special?
Dried Kokum: A bold, spicy twist that replaces the sour and bitter flavors with Deccan soul
Cinnamon Gin: Hot, Spicy, and Tastes Just Like a Memory
Indian Sweet Vermouth: Mixed with kokum syrup or tamarind mixture
Unapologetically Red: Something as bold as Dattanna’s opinion
Shaken, never shaken: Because that’s how rebels roll
Material
(Bold, spicy and full of heritage)
• 30 ml cinnamon gin
• 30 ml kokum-spicy sweet vermouth
• 30 ml Campari (or Indian bitter liqueur)
• Ice – cubed, not crushed crap
• Garnish: dried kokum piece or cinnamon stick
how to make it
(old school, always)
1. Combine gin, vermouth and bitters in a mixing glass.
2. Add ice and stir slowly – no rush, no fuss.
3. Strain into a rocks glass over a large cube.
4. Add a piece of dried kokum at the bottom. give it a rest
Like the intelligence of Dattanna.
5. Sip slowly. Argue fast.
last sip
This is not your mixologist’s Negroni. It is fire and bark, fruit and fight. A cocktail that doesn’t care about fads – only the roots. One sip, and you’ll understand why some men never change.
*******
Gulab Jamun Rum Float
Sweet Sin in Crystal Glass
Story: Heritage, wine and a little floating rebellion
This shop was there for 86 years.
Located in a narrow alley in North Kolkata, just a few lanes down from College Street, it needed no signage. The smell of hot sherbet and cardamom was his own GPS.
‘Mukherjee Mishtir Dokan’ was famous for two things: its saffron-infused gulab jamuns and its unwavering refusal to modernise.
That is – until Arindam came home.
Fresh from a mixology course in Singapore and bearing a very un-Bengali tattoo of a liver on his wrist, Arindam was the third-generation heir to the shop. But unlike his father and grandfather, he saw Chineseness not as a tradition – but as a potential.
One night, after helping close the shop, Arindam stayed there.
The kitchen was quiet. The brass sherbet pot is still hot. He took a ladle of rose-cardamom syrup, added a pinch of cloves and cinnamon sticks, and poured it over a base of dark, oak-aged Indian rum. Then – because he couldn’t stop himself – he poured a small gulab jamun into the glass.
It looked ridiculous. It seemed rebellious.
It seemed perfect.
As he moved towards the bar spoon, the old wooden door creaked open.
His father was standing there. Yawning in a kurta.
They made eye contact. silence.
Then, Arindam gave him the glass.
His father took a long sip. Let it sit.
Then he bit his lips, looked at the berries bouncing like the moon in jaggery and said:
‘Not bad, son. Just…don’t serve it to Grandfather.
Arindam laughed. He knew that his grandfather would call it sacrilege. Or worse – ‘fusion’.
But as his father raised the second glass, he winked and said:
‘Relax, Baba. I will feed sugar-free food to Dadu.
His father laughed – because everyone knew Dadu hated anything sugar-free. But for the first time, amidst the slow heat of syrup, spices and rum –
Arindam’s Mishti Cocktail didn’t feel like a rebellion. It felt like Inheritance – just shaken differently.
What makes this cocktail special?
Mini Gulab Jamun: No decoration. Focal point.
Indian Dark Rum: Bold, oak-aged, and caramel-kissed
Rose-Cardamom Syrup: Sweet memories, full of heritage
Clove and Cinnamon Bitters: Adds depth and whisper
of summer
Syrup from Mishti Traditions: exalted, not erased
Material
(Bold, Sweet and Bengali-Boozy)
• 45 ml Indian dark rum
• 20 ml rose-cardamom syrup
• 2 teaspoons bitter cloves and cinnamon
• 1 mini gulab jamun
• Ice – one big cube
• Garnish: None. let the berries float like the moon
how to make it
(Late Night Legacy Edition)
1. Mix rum, rose syrup together in a mixing glass.
And gets bitter with a big ice cube.
2. Strain into a lowball or coupe glass.
3. Gently float a small gulab jamun on top.
4. Don’t overdo the decorations. This drink already has one
Story.
5. Drink slowly, sip by sip. Let the syrup melt down the center line
Tradition and twist.
last sip
This is not sweet. This is a disruption.
A Mishti became Mixology.
A cocktail that says: You can respect tradition –
Even when you put something new on top of it.
Parag A Shastri is a storyteller and spirits strategist with a keen interest in mixology and the diverse drinking cultures of India. He is the author of Madeira, India’s Forgotten Spirits, and the Cocktail Revival.
