When I first tasted a Jasmine cocktail, I’ll be honest – I had no idea what was about to hit my palate. I remember standing awkwardly at a friend’s tiny kitchen counter as someone poured drinks, and that first sip truly surprised me: all bold lemon brightness with this quick flash of bitterness right at the end. It felt like a secret handshake among people who love cocktails with personality, and ever since, the Jasmine has been one of my absolute favorites to introduce to friends.
Despite its flowery name, there’s actually no jasmine to be found in this drink. It was created in the late ’90s by bartender Paul Harrington, who, as the story goes, thought the aroma reminded him of jasmine blossoms. There’s something clever about that – giving a simple-but-stunning cocktail an unexpected name, letting its color and flavor tell the story instead. If you’re someone who enjoys a Negroni but sometimes wants something lighter or less herbal, the Jasmine is very much in your wheelhouse.
Strength & Profile
Note: You can tap on flavors, occasions, and feels to view more similar cocktail recipes.
Personally, I like to make Jasmines in the early evening, when the light comes through my kitchen window just right and makes everything (including my mismatched glassware) feel a little fancier than usual. The drink’s soft pink hue gets people curious – at least half the time, someone will interrupt their own story to ask what’s in my glass – and it looks honestly beautiful in a coupe or even just a standard wine glass.
Jasmine Cocktail: What You’ll Need
- 1 1/2 oz (45 ml) gin (I’m partial to London Dry, but use what you love)
- 1/4 oz (7.5 ml) Campari
- 1/4 oz (7.5 ml) triple sec (Cointreau is great, but any orange liqueur works)
- 3/4 oz (22.5 ml) fresh lemon juice
If you have a coupe glass, this is its time to shine; otherwise, I’ve happily poured these into small wine or martini glasses, too. (One of my best Jasmines was served in a chipped old jam jar. No judgment.)
How I Make It
- Pour the gin, Campari, triple sec, and lemon juice into a shaker.
- Fill with ice (I use a big handful – don’t skimp).
- Shake it like you mean it for at least 15 seconds. You want the outside of the shaker to feel ice cold.
- Strain into your glass. If you want to be extra, twist a strip of lemon peel over the cocktail to pop out those citrus oils, and either drop it in or rest it on the rim.
A word to the wise: fresh lemon juice makes a world of difference. I tried the bottled stuff once and immediately regretted it! If you don’t own a shaker, liberate an old jam jar or mason jar with a tight lid. I’ve even used a protein shake bottle in desperation – sometimes you just need a cocktail.
The holy grail with a Jasmine is getting that edge of citrus, sweetness from the triple sec, and gentle bitterness from the Campari all to play nicely together. If you taste yours and it feels a bit too puckery or sharp, don’t be afraid to add a tiny splash more triple sec. Too sweet? Squeeze in a little extra lemon. There’s nothing sacred about the recipe – make it fit your own taste.
Not drinking? You can whip up a riff on the Jasmine with fresh lemon juice, a splash of orange juice, a dash of non-alcoholic bitters (if you have any), and a little grenadine for that hallmark color. The flavor isn’t identical, but it gives you the same vibe – zingy, slightly bitter, celebratory.
Snacking is highly encouraged with a Jasmine. I usually set out a plate of cheese – something creamy like brie or tangy like goat cheese pairs really well. And if you’re feeling ambitious, shrimp cocktail or a little smoked salmon is perfect alongside that citrus hit.
Curious to experiment? Try swapping Aperol in for the Campari for a rounder, less bitter flavor, or top your Jasmine with soda water for a bubbly, lighter version. I’ve even muddled a few raspberries in the shaker if I want a fruity twist (plus the color is gorgeous).
The Jasmine may not be a dusty old classic with a 19th-century pedigree, but in my book, it’s become a new classic – bright, bittersweet, and always a little unexpected. Every time I make one, I get that same little sense of discovery I did with my very first sip. Give it a try, and you might find it’s exactly what your next gathering – or solo happy hour – needs.
