In Cold Blood is a modern equal-parts bitter, built from one ounce each of rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, and Cynar and finished with expressed lemon oil and a pinch of flaky sea salt. It's a near sibling of the Boulevardier, swapping the artichoke amaro Cynar in for Campari, which trades the Boulevardier's loud red bitterness for something darker, earthier, and a touch more savory. The salt is the trick: a few flakes pull the Cynar's vegetal bite into focus and round off the edges, which is why its creator called the drink "approachable but geeky." The result drinks like a Boulevardier that spent the winter in Maine.
Approachable, but geeky with the salt.
Andrew VolkHistory
The In Cold Blood is the work of Andrew Volk, who opened the Portland Hunt + Alpine Club in Portland, Maine, in 2013 and put the drink on the menu as a house bitter. It belongs to the same lineage as the Boulevardier and the Little Italy — whiskey, sweet vermouth, and an Italian amaro stirred and served over ice — but Volk's version leans on Cynar, the bittersweet artichoke amaro, and crowns it with flaky salt.
The drink carries the title of Truman Capote's 1966 nonfiction novel, though the connection is in the name rather than any documented backstory; we'll resist inventing one. What is well documented is the recipe's reach: it was picked up by Food & Wine and later appeared in Andrew and Briana Volk's book Northern Hospitality, which is how a Portland house pour became a name bartenders trade across the country.
The Spec
Equal parts, full stop — one ounce each of rye, sweet vermouth, and Cynar. The rye supplies backbone and spice, the sweet vermouth supplies weight and a little sugar, and the Cynar supplies the bitter-vegetal spine that defines the drink. Stir it cold, pour it over a single large cube, and finish it the way it's meant to be finished.
Why Cynar instead of Campari
Campari makes a Boulevardier; Cynar makes this. Both are bittersweet Italian amari, but Cynar (built on artichoke and a base of herbs) reads earthier and less aggressively bitter than Campari's bright citrus-quinine snap. Swapping it in pushes the drink toward the savory, which is exactly the lane the salt finish is built for. Cynar bottles at a gentle proof, so it modifies more than it fights the rye.
The salt is not optional
A small pinch of flaky sea salt — Maldon is the usual call — is what separates the In Cold Blood from a standard amaro Boulevardier. Salt suppresses perceived bitterness and lifts sweetness and aroma, so a few flakes pull the Cynar's vegetal bitterness into balance and make the whole drink read rounder. Add it at the very end, on top, so the first sips carry it; stirring it in flattens the effect.
Bottom Line
If you like Boulevardiers, Black Manhattans, or anything in the bitter-stirred family, the In Cold Blood is a rewarding detour: same architecture, darker and more savory profile, and a finishing move (the salt) that's genuinely worth the trouble. It's an autumn-and-winter drink, slow-sipped over one big cube, and one of the cleanest arguments going for keeping a bottle of Cynar on the shelf.