As an author of strange tales moonlighting as a high priestess of home mixology, one of my specialities is making drinks that embody the moods and themes of books—booktails, if you will. In fact, the first set of booktails I ever crafted were derived from my first novel The Gold Persimmon, an experimental work of queer feminist horror where the lead characters are haunted by grief and loneliness.
There’s something inherently “literary” about ghosts. (Indeed, the first recorded use of the term “haunt” in reference to the activities of a spirit or ghost comes from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream.) Whether a ghost presents as a feeling or a specter, to be haunted is to be exposed, tested, undone. Think of rather unlikeable Eleanor from Shirley Jackson’s The Haunting of Hill House who yearns for a new life, or the unmoored governess from The Turn of the Screw, left on her own with two children. Though the ghost may play the part of the antagonist, ultimately a ghostly encounter, whether “real” or imagined, is an internal experience, a confrontation with the self.
This is certainly the case for the mortal, human protagonists booktail-ized in the following recipes. Each is derived from a character portrayed in a well-known ghost story, beginning with The Turn of the Screw from the early 1900s, up to Nothing But Blackened Teeth, released in 2021. Rife with spectral and emotional ghosts, these are tales not only of primal terror, but desire, loneliness, and pain—very “real” feelings with serious consequences. May you enjoy reflecting on these stories with a lovely libation in hand. Cheers!
The Governess from The Turn of the Screw
The Turn of the Screw, a famously chilling tale by Henry James, is framed as a story-within-a-story, shared aloud at a gathering of gentry looking for a thrill. First, the party is kept in suspense, as a particular manuscript is brought to the house by the servant of the storyteller, the first clue this tale will be anything but ordinary, or titillating. Instead, what awaits is horror. The story concerns a governess sent to a country house called Bly in Essex to look after two orphaned children inherited by their bachelor uncle. Their previous governess died under mysterious circumstances. Other employees of Bly have likewise met an untimely end. The new governess sees the guardian only twice. The terms of her employment dictate she is never to contact him but instead to address any problems herself. Another reveal: the storyteller apparently knew her well, as she was in fact his sister’s governess.
The horror in this tale doesn’t come from the supernatural. Instead, it’s the all too resonant terror of what the children have endured and the ways in which loss and abuse have corrupted their spirits that will haunt the reader… and keep you guessing.
For a film version, see the 2020 series The Haunting of Bly Manor, which amalgamates The Turn of the Screw with the work of Shirley Jackson.
The Black Rose is made with bourbon, aged in oak barrels, a reference to the polished oak stairs upon which the governess stands her ground: “He knew me as well as I knew him; and so, in the cold, faint twilight, with a glimmer in the high glass and another on the polish of the oak stair below, we faced each other in our common intensity.” Black rose hibiscus tea combines proper British tea with a tart red botanical, for the consistently red motif throughout. Rose evokes the “rose flush” of the young charges’ innocence. Simple syrup is for the period of “summer sweetness” at the start of the governess’s time with the children, when she lavishes praise upon them. Lastly, Exorcism bitters conjure the very-real, tangible, and terrifying evil that cannot be expelled or forgotten.
This booktail is presented against a stark backdrop: the black and white cover of the book is framed by cloudy gray. Figures from the cover reflect like specters in the gold and silver base, mirroring the gold motif throughout, and the opulence of Bly Manor. The display is accented by a dried rose, long past its prime yet still beautiful, its color a complement to the drink, which is served in a vintage glass. A grinning gold skull to the right of the book provides counterbalance to the rose—a gilded specter of death.
Black Rose
Ingredients
- 2 oz oak barrel bourbon
- 1 oz black rose hibiscus tea
- 0.5-1 oz simple syrup (see recipe below)
- 1 full dropper Bennett Bitters Exorcism bitters
Instructions
Make a simple syrup, then set aside to cool. Meanwhile, prepare the tea, combining a heaping ½ tsp dried organic rose petals with 1 black tea teabag, or 1 tsp loose leaf, and a generous ¼ tsp loose leaf hibiscus. Let steep until cool, then strain and discard solids. Add 1 oz of the tea to a mixing glass filled halfway with ice, along with the bourbon, syrup, and bitters. Stir until well-chilled, then strain into a rocks glass. Add fresh ice if desired.
Simple Syrup
Ingredients
- 1 c water
- 1 c sugar
Instructions
Mix the sugar and water in a small pot, then bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Once cool, store in a glass bottle or jar and keep refrigerated.
Rebecca from Rebecca
The classic novel Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier is so-named for a woman who never appears within its pages; she’s dead before the story even begins. Instead, a nameless narrator, a young slip of a girl, recounts her tale of meeting and falling for a wealthy widower, husband of the now-deceased Rebecca, and lord of Manderley, his ancestral home. But the rest of the story reads more like a Gothic ghost story than a fairytale romance. The nameless protagonist is overwhelmed and outmaneuvered time and time again by those around her, the head housekeeper Mrs Danvers in particular, a ride-or-die (and possibly romantic) loyalist to the original mistress of the house.
Rebecca is a classic ghost story that contains no actual ghost: no bumps in the night, no floating sheets or specters in the mirror. Instead, the haunting is all too real, the danger palpable, as the naive narrator stumbles upon truth after buried truth. Contemporary readers may find much to discuss regarding the dynamics of sex and power at play in this novel, whose entire plot hinges upon the innocence and eagerness of a young, female protagonist with very few choices in life.
The Rebecca is made with rose syrup for all the flowers in this book, especially the roses grown for display inside Manderley. Apricot brandy references Rebecca’s apricot nightdress, which remains unwashed, waiting for Manderley’s real mistress to return, or so implies the devoted Mrs. Danvers. She tells the new, nameless lady of the house that this was the last nightgown Rebecca ever wore. Champagne evokes the night of the ball that changes everything, when the narrator conjures Rebecca by unwittingly copying her costume, bringing her back to life in everyone’s mind. Soon after, the new mistress discovers a shocking truth and makes a choice that determines her future. Lemon twist, like a plot twist, cuts the sweetness in a way Rebecca herself would likely enjoy.
Presented like an artifact from a crime scene, The Rebecca is framed by a cork backdrop dotted with sparks of gold, like cinders. The drink and book are set atop a slippery, reflective base, much like the surface of still waters. Ferns creep over the novel, a rose on its left for the roses of Manderley. From there, fresh and dried rose petals dotted with droplets of blood wind around the champagne flute containing the ombre pink and gold elixir, garnished with a yellow swirl of lemon peel.
The Rebecca
Ingredients
- 0.5 oz rose syrup (see recipe below)
- 0.5 oz apricot brandy
- Champagne
- Lemon twist
Instructions
Prepare the syrup. Once it’s cool, add the syrup and brandy to a champagne flute. Top with chilled champagne and garnish with a twist of lemon.
Rose Syrup
Ingredients
- 1 c sugar
- 1 c water
- ¼ c dried organic rose petals
Instructions
Combine all ingredients in a medium pot and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain and discard solids. Store in a glass bottle or jar and keep refrigerated.
Eleanor from The Haunting of Hill House
In Shirley Jackson’s famed classic The Haunting of Hill House, four people gather under the crooked, inauspicious roof of Hill House, a Winchester mansion-esque monstrosity with closed-in rooms situated in concentric patterns, where every angle is disorienting. The house is supposedly haunted, of course, and has a terrible, violent history. The remaining residents of the surrounding ghost town won’t go near it, and Hill House’s own caretakers refuse to remain inside after dark. Inspired by the actual records of a team of paranormal investigators, the fictional foursome’s purpose is to document evidence of disturbances in the house.
Among them is Eleanor, a nervous naif in her 30’s who’s spent her life caring for her ailing mother, until her recent death. She has to steal her sister’s car just to get to Hill House, wooed by an invitation from an unknown doctor, and the promise of a new life Eleanor somehow believes this experience will lead to. The house calls to Eleanor, or so she perceives, straining her relationship with the other inhabitants, as the eerie connection exacerbates her instability, with tragic results.
Eleanor’s Ghost is made with gin: it seems like the woman Eleanor wants to be would drink gin. The gin is complemented by elderflower syrup, made from the flowers that ripen to produce elderberries. Early on, Eleanor fantasizes about living in a house with stone lions outside and a little old caretaker bringing her elderberry wine every night, with radishes in the garden, and homemade plum jam: “Around her the trees and wild flowers, with that oddly courteous air of natural things suddenly interrupted in the pressing occupations of growing and dying, turned toward her with attention, as though, dull and imperceptive as she was, it was still necessary for them to be gentle to a creation so unfortunate as not to be rooted in the ground […]” Lemon juice is a nod to Eleanor’s incongruous remark that the grounds of Hill House seem fit for a picnic, with lemonade in a Thermos bottle, and spilled salt. Peach bitters add a touch of stone fruit, for the stones that rained from the ceiling in Eleanor’s childhood home. A lemon twist is for a terrible turn.
Eleanor’s Ghost is presented against a darkly purple, eerie background of black woods. The figure depicted on the book’s cover appears supplicating and lost. Before her, the drink glows in an orb-like glass. It’s actually a vintage brandy snifter, for all the brandy drunk continuously throughout this novel to soothe everyone’s nerves. The display is punctuated with pink flowers and sparkling bits of amethyst, a stone reputed to enhance psychic perception.
Eleanor’s Ghost
Ingredients
- 2 oz gin
- 1 oz elderflower syrup (see recipe below)
- 0.5 oz lemon juice
- 5 dashes Fee Brothers Peach bitters
- Lemon twist
Instructions
Prepare the syrup. Once cool, combine the gin, syrup, lemon juice, and bitters in a shaker with a large ice cube. Shake vigorously for about 30 seconds, or until frothy. Strain into a cocktail glass and garnish with a twist of lemon.
Elderflower Syrup
Ingredients
- 1 c sugar
- 1 c water
- 1/4 c dried organic elderflower
- 1/2 lemon
Instructions
Mix the sugar and water in a small pot, then bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat. Pour the warm syrup into a jar and add the dried elderflower and the lemon. Once cool, seal the jar and set in the fridge for 24 hours. Strain the syrup through a fine mesh sieve and press any remaining liquid from the fruit and flowers, discarding solids. Store in a glass bottle or jar and keep refrigerated.
Beloved from Beloved
At the center of Toni Morrison’s famed novel Beloved is a ghost. A toddler’s ghost, in fact: angry, greedy for love and sweets, and volatile as hell. This fictional specter was inspired by the haunting real-life story of Margaret Garner, who attempted to kill her children rather than see them returned to the bonds of slavery. In the novel, Sethe swears she sought to put her babies on “the other side,” where they would be safe from the emotional and physical tortures she suffers as an enslaved woman. Years later, when Sethe is out of prison and living in her own home, Beloved manifests as a grown-up woman with unlined palms and a scar that matches Sethe’s baby, the one she killed with her own hands. Only Denver, Beloved’s surviving sister, understands who and what she really is, as Beloved takes ownership over their mother, breaking Sethe down and threatening to destroy her with the force of her furious, unquenchable love.
Beloved’s Milk Punch is a spin on the traditional milk punch. Milk—or heavy cream in this case—has obvious motherly connotations, while brandy soothes the gums of teething babies. (At one point, Beloved’s teeth begin to fall out. She wonders if her whole body will likewise come apart.) Peach jam is for Beloved’s insatiable sweet tooth: she scoops preserves straight out of the jar and into her eager mouth. This booktail is served over soothing chamomile ice with a sprinkle of nutmeg, as is traditional for a milk punch. The chamomile references the sap stuck on Sethe’s legs at the start of the story. Upon seeing Beloved for the first time, she dashes to the privy, her bladder full to bursting, like the breaking waters of birth.
This booktail is presented against a faded, antique floral print, as befits the walls of an old, well-loved and modestly furnished house, decorated with dried lavender in a green vase. Crystal earrings—for Sethe’s “diamonds” a memory Beloved carries with her even past death—hang behind the red cover of the novel, while pieces of lace, gold and green velvet ribbon are strewn about the glass for the outrageous costumes Sethe fashions to please Beloved. The booktail itself is tied with a black ribbon for mourning. Ice shaped like a skull and bones float ominously at the milky surface of this elixir, dusted with nutmeg.
Beloved’s Milk Punch
Ingredients
- Chamomile tea ice
- 2 oz brandy
- 1 oz heavy cream
- 2 tsp peach jam
- Sprinkle nutmeg
Instructions
Make a pot of chamomile tea. Let steep until cool, then fill the squares of a silicone ice mold with the cold tea. Freeze. Once solid, combine the brandy, cream, and jam in a cocktail shaker with ice. Agitate vigorously for about 30 seconds. Strain into a punch or rocks glass. Add the chamomile ice and a sprinkle of nutmeg. Best served with sweets.
Pearl from The Changeling
A woman named Pearl is shoplifting when she meets a man called Walker. He’s attractive, at least at first, and comes from a wealthy family living on an island all their own. Walker is not Pearl’s partner—she’s been married to someone else for six days. He tells Pearl,“ ‘You’re like a pretty piece of glass on the beach, a piece of driftwood. Something waiting to be found, something waiting for someone like me to discover its personality. You’ve been washed up by the tide. I’ve collected you.’ ” She winds up married to Walker instead and has his baby. When Pearl escapes the family island with the child, Walker retrieves her. On the flight back, their plane crashes. Walker dies. From then on, Pearl lives with the knowledge that her son is not her son—he is a changeling who swapped places with her boy during the crash. As Karen Russell notes in the introduction, telling you this gives nothing away. The strangeness of this novel comes from within its characters, a handful of insufferable adults idling their lives away on an island populated by a tribe of their offspring. No one has a job, no one goes to school, and Pearl is technically not the island’s only captive. She observes it all through a veil of gin; if she is awake, she is drinking. Gin relieves the world of its hard lines and practical limits. It makes the impossible things Pearl observes seem possible. Transformations occur, figures manifest. Yet the most unsettling aspect of Joy Williams’ The Changeling resides in the voice of its children.
The base of the Sea Pearl is a zero proof bitter botanical mix made with juniper, lemon and orange, coriander, rosemary, sea salt, and cucumber. Tonic water complements the nonalcoholic gin, evoking the taste of a gin and tonic, one of Pearl’s favorite cocktails. Sweetened with simple syrup for the sweetness Pearl’s lips lack when the children kiss her, the mocktail is softened by honeysuckle, which reveals more of its flavor as it melts. If it weren’t for Miriam, the cook, muses Pearl, “[…] the children would live on nothing but honeysuckle and berries.” The mint garnish adds a touch of green for the wilderness of the island.
The Sea Pearl is presented against a magical woodland backdrop crawling with greenery, like the untamed island. The base is scattered with swirls of sugar, like sand, studded with various treasures and offerings children might collect, including an obsidian arrowhead, a shark’s tooth, and a stone worn into a great black pearl, nestled on a shell beside the book’s left lower corner. The gold-based rocks glass is full of honeysuckle ice, shaped into pearlescent spheres and gemstones, for the wealth of Walker’s family that fuels their spell.
Sea Pearl
Ingredients
- Honeysuckle ice
- 1 oz tonic water
- 1 ½ c water
- 3 juniper berries
- 3 thin slices of cucumber
- 1 sprig rosemary
- 1 strip of lemon peel
- 1 strip orange peel
- Pinch coriander
- Pinch salt
- 0.5 oz simple syrup (see recipe below)
- Fresh mint
Instructions
Prepare a small pot of honeysuckle tea and let steep until cool. Then use the tea to fill an ice mold in the shape of your choosing. Meanwhile, prepare the syrup. Set aside to cool. Add the water to a small pot and bring the citrus peels, juniper, coriander, and salt to a boil. Simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and add the cucumber and rosemary. Let cool then strain and discard solids. Add the syrup and 1.5 oz of the botanical mixture to a chilled rocks glass. Add the ice and top with tonic water. Garnish with a sprig of fresh mint.
Simple Syrup
Ingredients
- 1 c water
- 1 c sugar
Instructions
Mix the sugar and water in a small pot, then bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer for 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Once cool, store in a glass bottle or jar and keep refrigerated.
Cat from Nothing But Blackened Teeth
In Cassandra Khaw’s novel Nothing But Blackened Teeth, five childhood friends with little left in common reunite to celebrate golden Talia’s nuptials. To fulfill her lifelong fantasy of having a ghost wedding, trust-fund buddy Phillip buys them all a few days in a decaying Japanese manor. According to legend, a thousand years ago in this Heian-era mansion, a bride was buried alive as a symbol of her eternal devotion to the groom she lost. Though no one really wants Cat there with them, least of all Talia, Cat feels an instant connection with the house, and the ohaguro bettari it harbors. After a stay in a mental health facility, followed by a year of recovery and treatment, Cat is still hiding her loneliness behind a smart mouth. It’s easier for her to open herself to the house’s magic than it is to reach her so-called friends, who keep apologizing and expressing pity.
As in The Haunting of Hill House, the house seems to be the only one who really understands Cat. Meanwhile, as terror leads to tension, it’s the conflict among these one-time friends that guides the thread of true horror in this novel.
This booktail is made with sake for the mixture used in ohaguro, the historical Japanese practice of beautifying one’s teeth by blackening them with a dye made from iron fillings soaked in tea, vinegar, or sake. The sake is enriched with pine syrup for the pines of Seunomatsu Mountain, referenced in a poem only Cat recognizes: “If I were one that had a heart that would cast you aside and turn to someone else, then waves would rise above the pines of Seunomatsu Mountain.” Lavender bitters add a touch of perfume for the scent of the breeze that “slouches” through the palace’s decaying shoji screen. For a sharp, complementary note, the drink is garnished with a lemon twist.
Cat’s Chill is presented against a shadowy backdrop of liquid black and gray, the stark cover reflecting against the flat black base, like the surface of an abyss. The eyeless, red-slashed mouth of the ohaguro bettari on the cover raises a clawed hand as if reacting to the cocktail glass set in front of the book, a curl of lemon holding onto the rim. Behind the book, the cocktail’s shadow floats like a specter.
Cat’s Chill
Ingredients
- 2 oz sake
- 0.5 oz pine syrup (I got mine from the Boston General Store)
- 4 dashes lavender bitters (my favorite are nonalcoholic, from Pick Your Potions’ affiliate All the Bitter. Use code PICKYOURPOTIONS for 10% off)
- Lemon twist
Instructions
Add the sake, syrup, and bitters to a mixing glass filled halfway with ice. Stir until well-chilled. Strain into a chilled martini glass and garnish with a lemon twist.
Lindsay Merbaum is a queer feminist horror author and founder of the consortium Pick Your Potions, offering recipe decks, classes, and custom orders. Her booktails have appeared in Electric Literature, All American Whiskey, and the LA Review of Books. Other recipes have been published on Tor and Alcohol Professor. For more, visit www.pick-your-potions.com, subscribe to The Cauldron on Substack, or follow @pickyourpotions on Instagram and TikTok.
