95 Books Like A History of the World in 6 Glasses

Although I loved the city of New York more than ever after 9/11, it was sometimes hard to feel optimism and hope about the bigger picture and humanity as a whole in the first several years of the new millennium. This book was one of several things that helped restore my faith, since Moehringer so lovingly portrays the community where he grew up in Long Island—an area profoundly impacted by the attack on the World Trade Center. While I was fact-checking the title, et cetera, I discovered there’s a movie version coming out in early 2022. Obviously I haven’t seen it yet, but I’m really looking forward to it.  

I thought I knew a fair bit about whisky until I read this book. The science is here–and how often do you see that in a book on spirits?–but as a means to an end: to make whisky more individual, more expressive of place. The bulk of the world's whisky is manufactured in anonymous, large plants such that the 'handmade' products of relatively small distilleries, epitomized in Scotland and Kentucky/Tennessee in the U.S.A., are cherished by enthusiasts.

Yet even with these, the major ingredients–cereals of different kinds, barley in the case of Scotch–are almost always grown and processed far away and bought on the commodities market. It doesn’t have to be like this. Revelatory and joyful are the author’s explorations and stories of trips to distilleries in the U.S. and the British Isles to chew the fat with like-minded pioneers.

Proof is a fascinating read about the science of booze. If you think that sounds a little dull and academic, it isn't. I bought it at the recommendation of a writer friend, Reid Mitenbuler (author of Bourbon Empire), and was so glad I did.

It delves into the science of creating alcohol, but in a way that the general reader can enjoy: a fungus called yeast eats up sugar and poops out ethanol, in layman's terms. But it goes way beyond that into what makes us want and enjoy a drink, what's happening in our brains and our bodies, and, yes, the science of hangovers.

One thing I love about this book is that Mansfield fleshes out a beautiful history of a business whose founder genuinely cared for his workers and the community, which is both a refreshing change, as well as a beacon of hope that we can build a more compassionate model. If you’ve ever wondered why people are so loyal to this particular brand of stout and why Guinness is such an important part of Dublin’s history, this will help you understand why. When I read it, I’d never been to Ireland, despite its being high on my bucket list. I finally got there last year and, thanks to this book, I enjoyed sitting in a pub with a pint so much more than I might have, knowing the beer’s amazing back-story.   

If there were a single riposte to the cliché that men inherently know more about booze than women, then Girly Drinks by Mallory O’Meara would be it.

Mallory is neither a drinks journalist nor a professional bartender, but she is an unstoppable force on a mission to set the record straight about women and booze. Going deep into women’s history while simultaneously reflecting on her own experiences with alcohol, she takes us on a whistle-stop tour across the ages and around the world.

Her style is witty, assertive, and just the right side of combative. I couldn’t help but fist bump the air in solidarity as she dispels myth after myth about the so-called girly drink.

You know how, when you read a book that’s so clever, funny, and perfectly written you want to actually get to know the author? That’s what happened to me when I read this book. Even though I didn’t know him, I knew he’d be the kind of person that you hoped to run into at the bar—a generous man with a great sense of humor, a bright outlook, and plenty of great stories.  

We did eventually come to be friends in real life, too. It turned out that we’re practically neighbors and both enjoy the occasional glass of gin. True story.

Stephenson truly is a curious bartender and has written a shelfful of books about cocktails, and cocktail recipes.

My favorite books of his, though, are the more recent ones when he started looking at individual spirits, and not just what you can do with them but how and where they are made. The best is this road trip around the USA, visiting whiskey distilleries large and small, which combines drink writing and travel writing - my own two writing topics!

He visits 50 distilleries, from Vermont to California, including names you'll know, like Jack Daniel's and Jim Beam, and names you need to know, like Leopold Brothers, Wyoming Whiskey, and Garrison Brothers. It's a terrific romp of a read.

Mezcal is one of the fastest-growing spirits categories, and I love this smoky-tasting drink that's mostly made in small batches by one-man (or increasingly one-woman) distilleries around Mexico.

Author Emma Janzen loves it and is curious about it so much that she sets off on a journey around Mexico to meet the makers, and the bartenders who are turning mezcal into cocktails. I'm not jealous of her journey at all! The journey produced a handsome book with wonderful photos, and it's a book that has both style and substance.

What I like about it is that she gets out and meets people, and introduces the reader to their lives, whether it be cool mixologists in Oaxaca City or mezcal makers in the middle of nowhere. If you like mezcal, it's a must-read.

Ludington’s book is exciting because it disproves pervasive ideas about wine consumption. One of the big assumptions in the history of commodities is that middle-class people want to imitate elites, and that taste trickles down the social ladder.

Ludington shows that the opposite was true 250 years ago in England and Scotland: aristocrats started changing their wine-buying habits to appear more sympathetic to the middling sort. This trickle-up is an eighteenth-century equivalent of affluent hipsters drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon or fashionistas buying $400 jeans.

I’m the type of reader who finishes each sentence thinking yeah, but how do we know that?, so I find Ludington’s generous footnotes and detailed cellar inventories to be deeply satisfying. This is not an easy read, but it’s a thoroughly enriching one.   

Coffee, sex, travel, exotic locales, romance, and at long last love. This novel has it all, made vivid through the story of a more or less ordinary Englishman in the late 1890s who finds that he has a remarkable talent for discovering and describing the flavors and the problems in brewed coffee. He goes to Ethiopia to learn more about coffee. There his adventures become, shall we say, quite vivid, and some remarkable twists appear. Nicely written by an international best-selling author. Used copies are really cheap. You will have fun reading this with a great cup of coffee.