I am not claiming to be An emotional gentleman. Not even a little. I’m just saying that I am a An emotional gentleman. I am passionate about it.
Let’s back up: The emotional gentleman is a cocktail. It’s actually a fantastic cocktail, a strong and buzzing little autumn sipper made up of Scotch whiskey, the herbal French liqueur Benedictine, and a (traditionally) Italian liqueur called green walnut (“no-chi-no”). It was invented in 2012 by a bartender named Misty Calacoffin at a bar called Brick & Mortar in the Central Square neighborhood of Cambridge, Mass.
It all seems straightforward, because it is so straightforward. What I have to add here is that I am surprised to the point of embarrassment that I had not heard of this cocktail before. It’s not just that it’s easy. It’s not just that there’s the most admirable variety of recruiters’ creativity, which most bars already have, and it’s not just that it’s absolutely delicious, and the absolute perfect vehicle for this time of year has the absolute perfect flavors for this time of year (malt, spice, roasted nuts). It is that I lived in the central square. The Misty Calacoffin was my cocktail hero. It made me have the first proper drink of my life.
I’ve told this story before and I won’t back it up here, but suffice it to say that Misty, when I met her in 2007, was not yet famous, but impressive enough in her talent and intelligence and mastery of the craft that she showed me, then fresh out of college, that this could be a tending bar career. I suppose I would have got there eventually, but you never forget your first one… So you can understand my surprise, then, when a guest in my restaurant asks me for a sentimental gentleman cocktail, and, having never heard of it, I look it up and find that it is a false original, and has a simple and universally delicious taste. It’s like finding out that Nirvana had a fourth studio album that you’ve somehow never heard of. How on earth did it escape me?
In any case, if you, too, have never heard of The Emotional Gentleman, now is the time to look into it. As mentioned, Scotch whiskey, walnut liqueur, and Benedictine—the tasting experience starts low, with the deep malty base of the Scotch, and the depth of the walnut that somehow reads as a top note, a maple-like sweetness that arches over the palate. As for Benedictine’s honeyed, spicy complexity, it’s the emulsifier for the flavors, bringing them together into one unified experience. The Scented Gentleman is deep and expressive, with a lovely autumnal sweetness that is held by the cocktail’s considerable strength. It’s the ideal drink for one of those autumn nights where you can feel the chill through the windowpane – make yourself one first and sip it slowly while gazing out into the darkness, lingering sentimentally on the forces in your past that helped shape you along the way.
An emotional gentleman
Add ingredients to a mixing glass with ice. About 10 seconds (if using small ice) or 20 seconds (if using large ice), and strain, either in a coupe, or in a chilled rocks glass without any ice.
Note on ingredients

Scotch: At Brick & Mortar they use a blended scotch called Douglas XO, which by reported accounts is sherry-aged and has a subtle smokiness on the finish. If you’re planning on recreating this blend, I’d recommend the incredible single malt from Highland Park – the 18 year old is probably the best whiskey a person can buy for under $200 and it will be exceptional. Here, but the 12-year works similarly for cocktail work.
Personally, I found that the smoke, while real, wasn’t necessary, or even recommended. You definitely don’t want more than that – I made it with 2 oz. Laughfrog’s on a lark, and it’s about as bad as you can imagine – but even a subtle smokiness doesn’t improve the overall palate as much as you’d think. In other words, it doesn’t linger, just a little smolder on the finish, so if you like that smoky breath, feel free to chase it. It’s just not necessary. A solid, no-nonsense blend of malt like Monkey Shoulder or Compass Box Artists is great. I also found that a stronger Irish whiskey, such as the pot red breast and malt bottles from Buchmal, worked very well as well.
Just watch the strength of the whiskey: Benedictine is 80 proof and Nuccino is between 60-80 proof, so stay away from Scotch over 46% alcohol, and even that can be much higher. This is a serious little drink.
Benedictine: Do not accept any alternatives. I’ll just add that Bondactine and B&B look very similar, the former being wine, and the latter being a premix of wine and brandy that the company started bottling in the 1930s. You want classic Benedictine.
Nokino: Nuccino is modestly esoteric, but most well-stocked liquor stores and cocktail bars have a bottle bumped up somewhere. It is made from green walnuts that are soaked in alcohol, sweetened, and (sometimes) spiced. Standout brands I’ve worked with are Nix Alpina, Vicario, and Charbay (whose small-batch bottling is, appropriately, called “Nostalgia”). They all work.
Final note: You can make a delicious cocktail with just scotch, boondocks, and black walnut bitters, but it’s not the same. Nocino’s particular maple-like sweetness is integral to the profile, and the bitters just don’t have it—they make a drink closer to a modified rusty nail, which has its own charm, but a sentimental gentleman it is not.
Garnish: Orange zest works well here, but it was originally made without any garnish, and that’s how I recommend it. Orange makes it friendlier, more charming, and if that’s your instinct, feel free to give it a shot. It just feels less right to me. Sentimentality, to me, is tinged with a slightly bitter edge. That’s part of it, and in this drink (and maybe in life in general), sometimes it’s best to embrace it.
