Damn Right It's an Old Fashioned: A Case for the Classics

I'm standing in a parking lot outside a bar where I just paid nineteen dollars for a THC old fashioned that had a dehydrated orange wheel, a smoked rosemary sprig, and something the bartender called "activated bitters" balanced on the rim. I'm on speakerphone. Nobody is listening. I don't care. Somebody has to say this out loud, in public, in a parking lot, so here it is: the old fashioned does not need your help. It did not ask for activated anything. It is not a canvas. It is not a conversation starter. It is a drink, it has been a drink since 1806, and if you put a rosemary sprig on it I will not be held responsible for what happens next.

The THC old fashioned deserves better. The old fashioned, in general, deserves better. And I'm going to tell you exactly why, whether you're still inside ordering something with a smoked glass dome on it or not.

What Actually Makes a THC Old Fashioned an Old Fashioned

Here's the formula. Write it down. Tape it to your forehead. Whiskey. Sugar. Bitters. Orange. Ice. That is it. That is the whole thing. That is the drink that has outlasted every trend, every revival, every speakeasy-themed rooftop bar, and every bartender who went to a seminar about "layered flavor profiles." The old fashioned didn't survive two hundred years because people kept improving it. It survived because nobody could. You can't improve it. You can only ruin it, and a lot of people are working very hard at that right now.

The whiskey carries the weight. The sugar softens it without apologizing for it. The bitters make the whole thing interesting without making it weird. The orange peel, expressed over the top, is the one moment of flair allowed, and it has been earning that moment since before your grandfather was born. The ice is ice. Not a sphere. Not a cube stamped with a logo. Not weather you paid for, which, don't even get me started on paying for ice. Ice is weather. Weather is free. I have opinions about this.

Everything else, the torched wood chips, the rosemary, the house-made cherry syrup, the butterfly pea flower "color-changing" nonsense, that is a bartender telling you the drink wasn't good enough and then handing you the bill for their opinion. No. You sit down. You order an old fashioned. You drink an old fashioned. Nobody wins a prize for reinventing it. The prize was already given out. The original recipe got it.

Why the Classics Don't Need Fixing

Young people think a classic drink is a starting point. It is not. A classic drink is the destination. Every variation you've ever had, the smoked old fashioned, the mezcal old fashioned, the "elevated" old fashioned with clarified honey and hand-chipped Himalayan ice, all of those are a guy who didn't like where he was trying to leave. A classic is where you end up after you've tried everything else and realized you were wasting your time.

I know men, good men, men with jobs and families and functioning watches, who spent fifteen years ordering every cocktail on every menu at every place that called itself a craft bar. You know where they all landed? The old fashioned. Every single one of them. Because you stop running eventually, and when you stop, something simple and true is waiting for you at the bar, and it's been there the whole time, and it doesn't have a garnish.

That is not a metaphor. That is just what happened. I'm not Herb. I don't do metaphors. I do facts, and that's a fact.

Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned and Why It Belongs in Your Fridge

Now here's the thing. The old fashioned is perfect. The problem, the one real problem, is alcohol. Not because alcohol is the enemy, I sold pipe for thirty years, I have no moral crusade to run. The problem is the arithmetic. You have a few old fashioneds, which you will, because they're good and you're not stopping at one, and now the night is a spreadsheet. Nineteen dollars a glass. Who's driving. Whether you should have said that thing you said. That's not a drink anymore, that's a lease with terms.

So when we built Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned, the rule was: you do not touch the drink. You do not add a sprig. You do not activate the bitters. You do not explain yourself to the customer. You make the old fashioned, you make it right, bitters and orange and that deep warm sweetness that makes the whole thing feel like the right decision, and you put 8mg of hemp-derived THC in it instead of bourbon, and you put it in a can, and you sit down and you drink it.

Eight milligrams. Enough to feel present, social, and in control. Not enough to make bad decisions you'll spend a week explaining. The drink tastes like the classic because it is the classic, done correctly, by people who respect it. There is no rosemary in it. I checked personally. Multiple times.

If you want to know more about how the THC in these cans actually works differently than an edible, Herb wrote something about it in the THC cocktails pillar and I'm told it's accurate, though he did use the word "emulsion" four times and I only needed it used once, maybe zero.

The Can Is in the Fridge Right Now

I'm not going to tell you to "treat yourself." I'm not doing that. What I'm going to tell you is that there is a correct drink for a Tuesday night when you want to sit down and think about nothing in particular and feel like a person who made a good decision today. That drink is an old fashioned. And if you want the old fashioned without the nineteen-dollar tab, the bartender's opinions, or a single sprig of anything, Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned is in the fridge right now.

Go get it. Don't put anything on it. Drink it. That's the whole instruction set.

The Verdict

The old fashioned is right. It has always been right. Every bartender who put something on top of it was wrong, and they are still wrong, and I am still standing in this parking lot saying so, and my watch stopped in 2009 and even it knows the old fashioned doesn't need updating.

Herb will probably read this and tell me I should have mentioned the Bellini more. He always wants me to mention the Bellini. He called it "the sophisticated entry point" last week. I told him nobody asked. He told me about terpenes for eleven minutes. We're fine.

The drink is right. The can is in the fridge. And if you put a rosemary sprig on it, I will find out.

Lou's Damn Right I'm Old Fashioned contains 8mg hemp-derived delta-9 THC per can. Herb & Lou's is for adults 21 and older. Start low, go slow. Do not drive or operate machinery after use. Keep out of reach of children and pets. State laws vary — check your local laws. These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure, or prevent any disease.