Heroes, villains and Boy Martinis: when cocktail culture stops taking itself too seriously
In recent years, cocktail culture has learned to take itself very seriously: precise techniques, carefully chosen ingredients, studied glassware and menus built almost like small statements of identity. That growth has given contemporary mixology real depth, but it has also brought a risk: turning the bar into an overly coded space, where some drinks are treated as noble and others remain confined to the category of easy pleasures.
Some recent cases point in a different direction. Not a general revolution in the sector, but an interesting signal: certain bars are starting to play with their own codes, rereading classics, popular drinks and established categories with more irony. Technique does not disappear, but it no longer has to be displayed every time as a sign of superiority. The menu becomes narrative, provocation, an object to browse and a small piece of theatre.
When the menu takes a position
One example comes from London, where Scarfes Bar, the bar at Rosewood London in Holborn, has launched the Heroes & Villains menu. The list revolves around 20 cocktails divided between “hero” and “villain” versions, creating an explicit game between technique, imagery and provocation. On one side, contemporary methods such as clarification and carbonation come to the fore; on the other, there is room for drinks often treated with professional condescension, including the Pornstar Martini, Cosmopolitan and Mojito.
The reference is not accidental. Scarfes Bar takes its name from Gerald Scarfe, the British caricaturist known for his satirical style, and the new menu uses that visual legacy to turn the list itself into part of the experience. The caricatures, fold-out sections and division between heroes and villains do more than decorate the drinks: they help stage a precise question. What makes a cocktail “serious”? Technical complexity, reputation, price, the setting in which it is served, or the way the bar chooses to tell its story?
In that sense, the most interesting move is not to rehabilitate every popular drink as if they all carried the same cultural weight. It is, rather, an attempt to loosen the hierarchy. A Pornstar Martini or a Mojito can be treated with irony without being dismissed as minor drinks. They can become narrative material, a field of play, a way to question both the public’s taste and the assumptions of the trade.
The name changes how the drink is seen
A different mechanism, but one close in spirit, can be seen in Brooklyn, where Ray’s has renamed the Manhattan the Boy Martini and placed it in the Martini section of the menu. The provocation works precisely because it is simple and slightly absurd: the Manhattan remains a drink based on whiskey, sweet vermouth and bitters, but it is moved into another symbolic family. The recipe does not change; the label does.
The joke says something about how cocktails are perceived before they are even tasted. The Martini carries an elegant, sharp and often highly coded image. The Manhattan belongs to another tradition, darker, softer and more closely tied to whiskey. Calling it a Boy Martini forces those associations into view and partly makes fun of them. It is a menu joke, but also a small experiment in language.
According to explanations that have circulated around the case, the choice also responded to a very practical observation: the public at Ray’s showed strong familiarity with the world of Martinis and its more contemporary variations. Placing the Manhattan inside that frame became a way to make it immediately legible, without really changing its nature. The name does not replace the drink, but it guides the expectation of the person ordering it.
These examples are not enough on their own to define a new global phase of mixology. That would be too broad a conclusion. They do, however, point to something more limited and interesting: in some bars, especially those attentive to menu design, communication and the relationship with an audience used to pop codes, classics are not only being updated in the glass. They are being repositioned, renamed and staged.
This may be where a useful space opens up for contemporary cocktails. After years in which quality was often described through rigour, some venues seem willing to remember that playfulness can also be a form of expertise. Not to lower the level, but to make the language of the bar more flexible. A drink can be technically accurate and ironic at the same time. It can respect tradition while also enjoying the possibility of changing its frame.
The result is not the end of “serious” cocktails, nor the triumph of lightness at any cost. It is a more interesting zone, where the bar uses its own tools — recipes, names, menus, images and categories — to question the way we choose and judge what we drink. Sometimes changing the name of a classic is enough to remind us that taste, even before the first sip, begins with a story.
