You’d think counting cocktails would be the easy part. It wasn’t.

Technically, there are more than 118 cocktails in this book. Some of the entries listed as one cocktail actually contain more than one. For example, A Year in Kyoto and A Study of Scotch both include four separate cocktails served as a flight; Tiki has three. Spiritual Advisor includes two cocktails plus a serving of Belgian beer and a pour of Chartreuse V.E.P. Both Doppia Bevanda and 2 in 1 are made of two cocktails served separately that are then meant to be combined by the guest and enjoyed as a mixture. Two Turtle Doves includes a pair of creamy cocktails that are not intended to be combined. Micahlada includes both the 2011 and 2017 versions as a single entry, while Bloody Mary treats them as two separate entries (which is lucky, because if I had to make both versions of Bloody Mary in one night, I might not live to tell the tale).

And if you really want to be a completionist [raises hand], you’d make the six different versions of a classic daiquiri found in Allen Hemberger’s Learning to Taste essay about what factors create a balanced cocktail.

Once I settled on 118, another problem emerged: what exactly deserves its own story? We made A Year in Kyoto across four separate weekends—one for each season. Each session felt like its own event, complete with its own challenges, photos, and memories. Should that become one article because it’s one recipe? Or four because that’s how we actually experienced it?

I could see myself descending ever deeper down the rabbit hole of determining how to count these cocktails and what to call them if the term “cocktails” is technically inaccurate. Even sitting down writing about this right now is disproportionately time-consuming for such a specific detail. In the end, I decided to follow the table of contents. Every flight and compound cocktail counts as a single entry. Micahlada counts once, Bloody Mary counts twice, and that brings the total to 118.

Tracking my progress as “61 of 118 entries” sounds both cold and ambiguous, not to mention gross when taken out of context. What would it be like to hear my friends ask, “Did Clint make another ‘entry’ this weekend?” Eww. “Did Clint make another cocktail this weekend?” Much better! Nobody can be grossed out or confused by this. Instead, they can get on to asking, “Which one?” or “Why would you spray hot dog mist over a cocktail?”

One final note: this progress reflects the cocktails I’ve personally made. During the early years of The Gayviary, some recipes were made together and others independently by different members of the group. Those shared years remain an important part of the project’s history, but this running count tracks my own journey through the book.

So there you have it. 118 cocktails and probably a lot more information than you bargained for. Now enough counting, back to mixing!

Thanks for reading.

Whether you're a fellow home bartender, photographer, writer, collector, or simply enjoyed the story, I'd love to hear from you at hello@gayviary.com.