Taking Flight: Will the Real Aviation Cocktail Please Stand Up?

It all started with a simple question.

“What would you like to drink next?” Mathias, an excellent mixologist at Charlie was a Sinner in Philadelphia, asked Red Rose and me. We had just finished a magical wheatgrass concoction recommended to us by Derek, one of the spot’s regulars, and were hoping to stay on the gin train.

“Something with gin, maybe lemon,” we said decidedly. “Ah, an Aviation,” Mathias replied immediately, and whipped up two Aviation cocktails, placing them in front of us.

As I studied the drink before me, however, I was confused. “Are you sure this is an Aviation?” I asked demurely. “I mean, isn’t it supposed to be blue in color?”

“This is definitely an Aviation,” he nodded vigorously. “Gin, lemon, maraschino. That’s it.” (Note to past self: it’s never a good idea to question your bartender, who generally knows a hell of a lot more about this stuff than you do.)

Still, throughout the next week, our exchange got me thinking about this high-flying libation: How is the Aviation cocktail supposed to be made, and which version tastes the best? Determined to find out, I gathered my books and my buddies—Mr. Five O’Clock, Rachel, Miss Scarlet, and Bourbon Broad—to get to the bottom of this puzzle. What we found on our quest, dear reader, might surprise you.

We don’t actually know who created the first Aviation cocktail, so the accolade for Awesome Cocktail Inventor has gone with the wind. However, according to David Wondrich’s Imbibe!, the very first printed recipe of the drink can be found in Hugo Ensslin’s 1916 book, Recipes for Mixed Drinks. It turns out that Ensslin, a German-born bartender at the Wallick House Hotel in Times Square, included crème de violette in his version, which is as follows:

3/4 oz. lemon juice
1 1/2 oz. gin
2 dashes (1 1/2 tsp.) maraschino
2 dashes (1 tsp.) crème de violette

What’s in a name? Perhaps unsurprisingly, the addition of the violet liqueur lends a bluish tint to the drink, similar in color to the pale morning sky. Aviation as a sport was just taking flight (it was new at the time), so this could perhaps be another reason for the drink’s name.

In any case, here’s where things get interesting. Along comes Harry Craddock, who publishes his classic Savoy Cocktail Book in 1930. And guess what? This version omits the crème de violette, meaning that bartenders were mixing Aviation cocktails using just gin, lemon juice, and maraschino for decades. In fact, because crème de violette was hard to find and wasn’t necessarily universally popular, it disappeared from the U.S. market in the 1960s and didn’t return stateside until 2007, when Haus Alpenz began importing the Rothman & Winter crème de violette.

Some recipes claim that crème de violette is interchangeable with another liqueur called Crème Yvette, so we decided to try the Aviation cocktail three ways: one with crème de violette, one with Crème Yvette, and one without any of the liqueurs.

First, I asked my friends to try the crème de violette and Crème Yvette by themselves before trying the mixed drinks.

The first thing we noticed was the striking difference in color: Crème Yvette was redder than expected; it also smelled slightly sweeter compared to its more purple counterpart.

Bourbon Broad thought that the crème de violette tasted like “hand soap,” while Miss Scarlet declared it was akin to “interesting hairspray.” Rachel emphatically added that crème de violette tasted like “a really nice lavender hand soap mixed with Dimetapp and hairspray.” The trio much preferred the Crème Yvette—according to Bourbon Broad, “this one tastes twice as good as the first one”—and predicted that they would like the Crème Yvette version of the Aviation better than the others. Lone wolf Mr. Five O’Clock believed that the crème de violette version would be the winner.

Version #1: Aviation Cocktail, crème de violette included

For this version, we tried the following recipe: 3/4 oz. lemon, 2 oz. gin, 1/2 oz. maraschino, and 1/4 oz. crème de violette.

Bourbon Broad: I really like this color. This drink, it’s like we’re sipping on a cloud. It’s cold and refreshing, but the soapy taste is still there.
Miss Scarlet: **Crickets**
Bourbon Broad: It’s like the color of Cinderella’s dress.
Rachel: I think it’s an ominous rain cloud color. It’s the color of a thunderstorm before a tornado, guys. Like, I wouldn’t go out in this drink.
Miss Scarlet: I don’t really like it. I don’t approve of blue things. I mean, if I were a movie director and wanted a character to be poisoned in my movie, it would be with this drink.

Version #2: Aviation Cocktail, Crème Yvette included

This time around, we copied Version #1, but used 1/4 oz. of Crème Yvette instead of crème de violette. The consenus was that, while it looked appealing, the group didn’t necessarily prefer Version 1 or 2 over the other.

Rachel: These would make perfect baby shower cocktails. See how this one is so much more pink? You could bring out a tray with reddish and bluish Aviations! Both this and first one still taste chemically to me, though.
Mr. Five O’Clock: …This is just not my drink.

Version #3: Aviation Cocktail, no crème(s)

For our third and final cocktail, we followed a recipe that involved the same amount of lemon juice (3/4 oz.), but less gin (1 3/4 oz.) and more maraschino (3/4 oz.), compared to Version 1 and 2. Everyone immediately liked this version the best, saying that it didn’t taste as “chemically” to them compared to the previous drinks.

At the end of the day, the Aviation cocktail apparently “outwitted” the group, and they claimed they would drink it “if it were free, but it wouldn’t be a go-to drink.” Looks like we’ll have to agree to disagree, as I’m still a fan of this libation no matter what.

That being said, we all agreed that Mathias was on to something: just make your Aviations without the crème de violette. And for God’s sake, trust your spirit guides—there’s a reason their drinks will leave your taste buds soaring.