Make Myna Double: Cocktails for Bird Lovers, by Katie Stryjewski
Key Lime (formerly Mango) Publishing, 2025
259 pages, hardcover
ABA Sales–Buteo Books 15618
To say I was impressed by Make Myna Double would be an understatement. Before opening it, I expected either a book written by a bird expert with an amateur interest in cocktails (like me) or a book written by a professional mixologist with an avocational interest in birds. Instead, Katie Stryjewski is an accomplished expert in both fields—and an excellent writer, to boot. With a Ph.D. in ornithology, Stryjewski is a formally trained scientist who found that, when paired with social media, her interest in mixology is more useful for paying the bills than is avian genomic analysis. Only after reading her book did I look at the author’s Instagram account (@garnish_girl), and I am now even more impressed! I highly recommend following it; there you will find videos in which Stryjewski shows you how to make drinks and talks about the birds that inspired their creation. She also has a blog at garnishblog.com.
As with many field guides, the front matter is perhaps the most important—and destined to be most overlooked—section of the book. Stryjewski spends just the right amount of time defining how to identify and how to use barware, and explaining the origins and applications of spirits and other cocktail ingredients. An explanation of vermouth and how to store it properly—in the refrigerator!—was greatly appreciated and, sadly, needed. (It is stored at room temperature alongside vodka at way too many bars whose owners should know better.) I really appreciated the hierarchical explanations of a handful of spirits and the playful biological terminology she used—for example, Cognac, bourbon, and tequila are subspecies of brandy, whisky, and mezcal, respectively. I was likewise gratified to read a well-written explanation of how to cut and utilize a citrus twist, perhaps the most disrespected and misunderstood of cocktail garnishes.
The meat of the book comprises cocktail recipes organized by base spirit, for example, gin, rum, vodka. Stryjewski begins the species accounts with what she calls “native” cocktail species: preexisting cocktails named after birds, which, as with bird species, I will capitalize in this review. These include the typically Tiki-sweet Jungle Bird and the famously refreshing Paloma.
From here on, the author’s creativity and endearing nerdiness shine. Each “species account” begins with a page of fun bird-related trivia that inspired her cocktail creation, as well as an illustration created by the author herself. Often, the name she chose is a playful pun. For instance, her Rob Royal Flycatcher is a spin on the classic whisky-based Rob Roy, but with part of the sweet vermouth swapped out for crème de cacao—a method that I myself utilize in a Negroni from time to time. Stryjewski then lists the necessary ingredients and expounds on how to build and serve each drink. Perhaps not coincidentally, the first royal-flycatcher I ever saw was in a shade cacao plantation in southern Mexico.
A few of the cocktails are a bit simple, but this is not at all a bad thing. For instance, the Purple Martini is essentially a classic martini using indigo gin instead of the standard colorless gin. I appreciate this, because it makes some of Stryjewski’s recipes more accessible by virtue of their ingredients being ubiquitous. Indeed, this was the first of her recipes that my partner and I made at home—precisely because we already had all the ingredients. The Ptarmigimlet was likewise delicious and easy to make. On the other hand, I didn’t have the Batavia arrack, ginger lemon tea, and buzz button flowers on hand to make Stryjewski’s Pitohui Punch. My local liquor stores had no barrel-aged gins with which to make her intriguing Honeyguide. And though my mouth is watering as I re-read the ingredients, I still don’t have the yuzu bitters, lemongrass-infused dry vermouth, and coconut-oil-washed vodka necessary to make her Coconuthatch. Some recipes require a fair amount of advance planning.
The extensive non-alcoholic section was heartening to see. It’s clear that Stryjewski doesn’t treat mocktails as just an annoying and obligatory afterthought. Increasingly, people who cannot, should not, or simply don’t want to drink alcohol are being given the consideration they deserve and can now find equally delicious and innovative creations at bars. While I do drink alcohol, I don’t like to overindulge, and I increasingly find myself closing the evening with a non-alcoholic libation. I’m happy to know that the author is part of this trend. Her Bella Loona is a sparkling, floral delight, her Culture Vulture features the surprising and delicious inclusion of yogurt, and her Plover Club’s use of homemade raspberry shrub is a superb method for (especially non-alcoholic) mixologists to add curious, mouth-watering complexity to their drinks.
After the “species accounts,” a reference section—a surprise in a cocktail book—kindly leads the curious reader to sources used in the ornithological introductions to her recipes. You can keep track of your cocktail adventures by marking up the Cocktail Life List just before the index. Of her 65 creations, I tried and shared 24 over the three months leading up to my writing this review. Particular favorites included the Ptarmigimlet, the Sage-Grouse, and the Vesper Sparrow. But one was by far and away my favorite. I know it’s cliché and trite to say so, but her Vangastura Sour was, for me, a revelation. I enjoyed it so much that I sought out and made the original upon which she based her creation. I can honestly say that Stryjewski’s version, with its toned-down bitters and coconut cream instead of orgeat, is an improvement. Whereas the original Trinidad Sour (whose base is Angostura bitters!) was, as I expected, a bit acrid and somewhat challenging to drink, the author’s take was silky smooth and perhaps even too quaffable. I immediately wanted, and had, another. Next time, I’ll Make Myna Double!
Any minor quibbles I have with the book are just that. I was left wondering which of two versions of Ancho Reyes liqueur to use in Dove Potion No. 9. The description of “Central and South America” as the haunt of royal-flycatchers excludes at least part if not all of their Mexican range, where I saw my lifer. And I can kindly disagree with her preferred pronunciation of some scientific names— which don't have a “proper” English pronunciation, anyway. These minutiae are all easily forgotten.
Overall, I think that Stryjewski struck precisely the right balance between beginners and more experienced mixologists, and her ornithological trivia was simultaneously accessible and not dumbed down. If you have in your life a cocktail lover who is also into birds, I highly recommend giving them a copy of Make Myna Double. Besides its cookbook-like practicality, it’s a fun, well written, and engaging read.
Michael L. P. Retter is Editor of North American Birds and Special Issues of Birding. He is also author of the ABA Field Guide to Birds of Illinois and the upcoming Princeton University Press Photographic Guide to Birds of Mexico, Guatemala, and Belize. Originally from Illinois, Michael splits his time between homes in Texas and New Mexico.
