The Stinger

INT. SMALL, LATE-NIGHT BAR – SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THEN AND NOW – NIGHT

The door opens with a soft laugh.
Two young lovers step inside — all sparks and sideways glances, hands brushing as if by accident. They sit close, but not touching. Not yet.

Behind the bar, the bartender clocks them instantly. This is a test night.

BARTENDER
(smiling, amused)
“Something playful… or something honest?”

They look at each other.
She raises an eyebrow.
He grins — caught.

“The Stinger,” the bartender decides, already reaching for ice.

He builds the drink deliberately.

“Brandy first. Warm. Familiar. It opens like trust — slowly, with intention.”
A pause.
“Then white crème de menthe. Cool as a dare. Sweet, but sharp enough to keep you alert.”

He stirs — not to blend, but to introduce.

The glass catches the light: pale, polished, quietly seductive.

BARTENDER
(sliding it forward)
“This one teases. It softens you… then wakes you up.
Like flirting with someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.”

They share the first sip — one glass, two mouths, a moment held just a beat too long.

She laughs.
He exhales.
The room seems warmer.

The Stinger isn’t loud. It doesn’t shout or show off.
It whispers, cool and confident — a cocktail that dances between warmth and restraint, sweetness and edge.

Perfect for lovers who enjoy the tension…
and don’t mind a little sting at the end. 🍸❄️🥃

THE STORY

The Stinger emerged in late-19th-century New York, a favourite of high society who liked their elegance with an edge. Often enjoyed as a nightcap, it blended Old World brandy with the cool surprise of mint — a refined sting before the lights went out. Its reputation grew quietly, passing from drawing rooms to discreet lounges.

Recipe:
Fill a rocks glass with ice.

Add 2 oz brandy

1 oz white crème de menthe.

Stir gently until chilled and silky.

Strain or serve on fresh ice.

No garnish required — this classic prefers understatement, like a well-kept secret savoured after midnight. 🥃❄️