Stock Up Your Home Bar

Get a dual-sided one with markings inside, not a plain 1½ oz cone.

Two weighted tins, with more room to throw than a Cobbler and no cap to seize shut.

The spring-rimmed one, with a tight spring so ice chips stay out.

For double-straining, though a small tea strainer works fine.

A pint glass works fine until you want the spout.

Long spiral shaft that doubles as the teaspoon measure recipes call for.

Unvarnished wood or plain steel, since painted finishes flake.

Makes fresh juice, which beats bottled in any sour.

For twists, since a sharp peeler takes zest without the bitter pith.

For wheels, wedges and trimming garnish, and any short sharp blade works.

Big cubes melt slower, and lids keep the freezer smells out.

Canvas bag for crushed ice, better than any dispenser and far more satisfying.

A vacuum brewer, for gentle infusions like the Lapsang Souchong. Not a pressure vessel — the heat lifts the water and the cooling draws it back.

Long citrus spirals, purely aesthetic and entirely worth it.

The most useful glass to own, since everything served up looks better in one.

Heavy base, 10 to 12 oz, so a large cube fits with room to spare.

Get ones lined in steel or nickel, because bare copper reacts with the lime.

For purées, foams and emulsified drinks, and it doubles as kitchen kit.

Only the frozen drinks need one, and you probably already own it.

Syrups and saline solutions are far more repeatable by weight than by volume.

A tall cone of very fine mesh, and the only thing that properly clears a purée or nut syrup.

Tall and narrow, which is the whole trick: less surface, so the bubbles last.

The general stemmed glass for anything served without ice. A coupe covers most of the same ground.

Taller and narrower than a highball, which is what keeps a long drink carbonated.

For whisky neat rather than for cocktails. The tulip gathers the aroma at the rim.

A heavy stemmed bowl for the big ice-filled drinks that would swamp a coupe.

One spirit, one mixer, plenty of ice. The most-used glass in most homes after the rocks.

Named for the lamp it resembles. Blended and tropical drinks, and not much else.

Handled and heat-proof. An ordinary glass will crack when the coffee goes in.

The broad stepped rim is there to hold a salt or sugar crust.

A cone on a stem. The stem exists so your hand stays off the bowl and the drink stays cold.

Small, tulip-lipped, and it holds aroma better than a coupe while spilling far less.

Tall, footed, waisted. Layered and frozen drinks.

For beer and the beer cocktails. Tapered so the head holds.

Small and handled, filled from a shared bowl. Only worth it if you actually make punch.

Three or four ounces, for fortified wine, aperitifs and layered cordials.

Thick walled, and a serviceable rough measure when the jigger is in the wash.

Wide bowl, narrow rim, so the warmth of your hand lifts the aroma.

The flared lip and small stemmed bowl the whiskey sour was built for.

A universal shape covers red and white, and doubles for spritzes and wine cocktails.

The whole starter kit in one box, and the cheapest way to find out whether you like doing this. Every recipe here scales down to a gallon.

The one instrument these recipes cannot be followed without. A quiet airlock and a clear mead prove nothing; two matching gravity readings a few days apart are what say fermentation has stopped, and bottling on anything less is how you get bottle bombs. You also need something tall and narrow to float it in — check whether a test jar is in the box before assuming, because plenty of hydrometers ship without one.

Full batch size. Note that the meads here ferment in an OPEN-TOP BUCKET and finish in glass — a narrow neck on a fruit-heavy primary is what made the Valentine's Brew blow out.

The fermentable every mead here is built on, and Ethan's own preference — wildflower, for the taste. On the Basic Mead it is not a base but the whole flavour, because there is nothing else in the jar. Clover is the milder swap. A 5 gallon batch wants 12 to 15 lbs, so check what the listing actually ships.

For the Acerglyn, which splits its sugar down the middle — 7.5 lbs of maple against 7.5 lbs of honey. Real maple only; the recipe's own note is "no artificial sweeteners", and a pancake syrup is mostly corn syrup with flavouring and will not ferment into the same drink.

Ethan's yeast in every mead he has actually brewed — "always champagne yeast". Its sheet rates it to 18% v/v with a low nutritional requirement, which is why the Basic Mead survives a single early nutrient dose. The two reconstructed melomels call for Lalvin 71B instead and give its rate on their own pages.

Not required, and worth it anyway: underfed yeast gets stressed, and stressed yeast is where off flavors come from.

The nutrient the two reconstructed melomels dose by name. Not interchangeable with Fermaid O: K is 25-50 g/hL split at the end of the lag phase and again at one-third sugar depletion, where O is 2 x 20 g/hL at the start and a quarter to a third through. Follow whichever sheet is on the tub you actually bought.

For clarity when there is fruit in the batch. Pectin is what leaves a fruit mead hazy; this is what stops it.