Bobby Burns

No, and a heavily peated one buries the Bénédictine completely. A blend with decent malt content, something like Famous Grouse or Monkey Shoulder, is what this was built for. If you want a hint of smoke, reach for a Highland or Speyside malt and leave Islay on the shelf.

Drambuie is the closest thing most kitchens already have, though it's sweeter and more honeyed, so drop to 5 ml. Yellow Chartreuse finds the herbal register but not the honey. Neither is quite the same drink. Bénédictine keeps for years once opened, which makes the bottle easier to justify.

Sweet vermouth, at roughly a third of the whisky. The 60 to 22 ml ratio here runs drier than a standard Manhattan on purpose, because the Bénédictine is bringing sugar of its own. Push the vermouth up to 30 ml and the whole thing turns syrupy in a hurry.

Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, though the spelling wanders across old books and plenty of them print it as Bobbie Burns. The Savoy Cocktail Book carries a version. Beyond the name the documented history is thin, which is normal for Scotch cocktails of that period.

A classic Bobby Burns calls for 60 ml (2 oz) Scotch whisky, 22 ml (0.75 oz) Sweet vermouth, 8 ml (0.25 oz) Bénédictine. That single-serve spec scales cleanly — the recipe above converts it to oz and multiplies it for 2–4 drinks.

A standard Bobby Burns is roughly 36% ABV once mixed (before ice melt softens it further). That makes it spirit-forward — closer to a Martini than to a beer, so sip it slowly.

A Bobby Burns is shaken. About 13 seconds with plenty of ice chills and dilutes it correctly.