Monte Carlo
The Monte Carlo is an old fashioned riff that swaps the sugar for Bénédictine — rye, herbal liqueur, and bitters, stirred over one big cube.
Most old fashioned riffs start by swapping the spirit. The Monte Carlo does something sneakier: it leaves the rye alone and replaces the sugar. In goes half an ounce of Bénédictine — that honey-colored, secretly-herbal French liqueur — and suddenly the drink has a backbone it didn’t have before. Same shape as an old fashioned, completely different conversation.
I pulled this one out of Death & Co’s Cocktail Codex, which files the Monte Carlo under the old fashioned family for exactly this reason: it’s the template you already know, with the sweetener doing double duty. The first sip lands like a familiar stirred whiskey drink. The finish is where the Bénédictine shows up — baking spice, a little honey, twenty-some botanicals you can’t quite name.
Swap the sugar for Bénédictine and an old fashioned grows a whole second act.
Here’s the honest part: this is a spirit-forward drink and it doesn’t pretend otherwise. Two ounces of rye against half an ounce of liqueur means the whiskey is driving. If that’s a touch much for you, you’ve got two levers. Push the Bénédictine up toward three-quarters of an ounce for more sweetness and roundness, or just stir longer — the extra dilution softens the edges without changing the recipe. I reach for the stir-longer move first; it keeps the drink tasting like itself.
Why this works
Bénédictine isn’t just a sweetener — it’s a sweetener that brings its own herbal, spiced, honeyed complexity, so it’s doing the job of simple syrup and a dash of something interesting at the same time. That’s why a Monte Carlo reads richer than an old fashioned despite having one fewer “flavoring” ingredient. The Angostura ties the rye’s spice to the liqueur’s botanicals, and the expressed lemon twist lifts the whole thing with a bright oil note right at the rim. Stirred, not shaken, because there’s no citrus juice or egg here — you want it silky and clear, not aerated.
Tips & variations
- Use a rye you like neat: This drink hides nothing, so the whiskey matters. Grab your favorite spicy rye — I make mine with Sazerac Rye, which has the pepper and backbone to stand up to the Bénédictine.
- Dial the sweetness with the Bénédictine, not syrup: If you want less bite, go up to ¾ oz Bénédictine before you reach for anything else. It rounds the drink without diluting the flavor.
- One big cube, long stir: Serve over a single large 2-inch cube in a rocks glass — it melts slowly so the drink doesn’t water down in front of you. And if you like it softer, stir 5–10 seconds longer before straining.
Make it in Spritz
Open the Monte Carlo in Spritz and it’ll scale the rye, Bénédictine, and bitters to however many you’re pouring, check whether it’s makeable with what’s already on your bar shelf, and save it to your favorites for the next time someone asks for “something whiskey, but interesting.” Tap share and you can hand the whole recipe to a friend in one link.


