I’m Kayla, and I keep a little bar cart at home. It’s not fancy. It’s a wooden shelf that wobbles if my cat jumps on it. But it holds some bottles that make me smile. A big part of that is liqueur from France. If you’re curious, I also wrote a longer breakdown of the bottles I sampled in this deep-dive on French liqueurs.
I’ve used these a lot—weeknight cocktails, Sunday brunch, and a few cozy winter nights. I even carried one home from Lyon in my backpack. Bad idea for my shoulders. Great idea for my drinks. That haul came after a whirlwind wine tour in France where I learned what bottles were worth lugging home.
Let me explain what’s good, what’s tricky, and what I really drink.
Orange Magic: Cointreau vs. Grand Marnier
Cointreau (from Angers) is my workhorse. It’s clear, crisp, and smells like orange peel. I use it for our Friday taco night Margaritas. One night I ran out, tried a cheaper triple sec, and the drink fell flat. Cointreau just hits cleaner. If you're curious about how it stacks up against other orange liqueurs, this handy explainer walks through the nuances.
Grand Marnier is richer. It’s orange plus Cognac. On New Year’s, I made Sidecars with it and felt very old-school and fancy. I also use it in crepes. I splash a little in the pan and pretend I’m on a show. I’m not. But the sauce tastes warm and deep. There’s a neat side-by-side look that spells out exactly where Grand Marnier and Cointreau diverge.
- My quick go-to:
- Margarita: 2 oz tequila, 1 oz Cointreau, 1 oz lime. Shake. Salt rim if you care.
- Sidecar: 2 oz Cognac, 1 oz Grand Marnier, 0.75 oz lemon. Sugar rim if you’re feeling it.
Good: Cointreau is sharp and flexible. Grand Marnier feels lush.
Not so good: Both cost more than cheap triple sec, and you can taste why. Also, the caps get sticky if you’re messy. I am messy.
Green and Gold Herbs: Chartreuse and Bénédictine
Green Chartreuse is wild. It’s herbal, piney, a little sweet, and very strong. I first had it in the Alps, in hot chocolate. The cup warmed my hands. The smell was minty and woodsy, like a hike after rain. At home, I make a Last Word when I want a treat.
Yellow Chartreuse is softer and sweeter. I use it when I don’t want the drink to shout.
Bénédictine tastes like honey, herbs, and spice. It feels old and cozy. I add a half ounce to a whiskey drink on cold nights. My uncle calls that “medicine.” He’s not wrong.
- Two hits at my place:
- Last Word: 0.75 oz each gin, Green Chartreuse, maraschino liqueur, lime. Shake hard.
- B&B: 1 oz Bénédictine + 1 oz brandy. Stir over ice. Slow sipper.
Good: These add depth with just a little pour.
Not so good: Chartreuse can be hard to find and pricey now. I baby my bottle. Bénédictine is sweet, so it can go heavy if you’re not careful.
Spring in a Glass: St-Germain (Elderflower)
St-Germain smells like a flower shop in May. My friend brought a bottle to a picnic, and we made spritzes. We laughed too loud and spilled some, and the grass smelled like pears. (Next time I might try it with a chilled glass of rosé from France for extra summer vibes.) It’s lovely with bubbles.
- Easy spritz:
- 1 oz St-Germain, 3 oz dry sparkling wine, splash of soda, lemon peel if you want.
Good: It brightens almost anything.
Not so good: It can take over. One ounce is gold. Two is a garden.
Berries That Stick (In a Good Way): Crème de Cassis and Chambord
Crème de Cassis (blackcurrant) is my secret for quick party drinks. I keep it cold. If friends drop by, I make Kir or Kir Royale.
- Kir: 1/2 oz cassis + 4 oz dry white wine.
- Kir Royale: 1/2 oz cassis + 4 oz Champagne or any dry bubbly.
That plain “dry white wine” can be way more interesting if you pick a bottle from my taste-test of French white wines.
I also whisk a teaspoon into a vinaigrette. It makes salad feel fancy with goat cheese and walnuts. Yes, I’m that person.
Chambord is dark raspberry with a hint of vanilla. It’s thick and sweet. I use it for a French Martini when I want a dessert vibe.
- French Martini: 2 oz vodka, 1/2 oz Chambord, 1.5 oz pineapple juice. Shake. Pretty foam.
Good: Cassis is friendly and very French. Chambord tastes like dessert sauce.
Not so good: Both can get syrupy. Wipe the necks or they glue shut. Ask me how I know.
Bitter but Bright: Suze and Amer Picon
Suze is a gentian liqueur. Think bitter roots, lemon zest, and a hint of wildflower. I had it first at a small bar in Paris. The bartender poured a White Negroni, and I wrote the recipe on a napkin (yes, I was definitely above the limit—if you’re curious about the rules, here’s my real-world look at the Paris drinking age).
- White Negroni: 1.5 oz gin, 1 oz Suze, 1 oz dry vermouth. Stir. Lemon peel.
In summer, I mix Suze with tonic, lots of ice, and a thin lemon wheel. It’s dry and snappy. Great on the porch with chips.
Amer Picon tastes orange-bitter and caramel. I had a Picon Bière in Marseille—just a splash of Picon in a light beer. It made a plain lager feel grown-up.
Good: These add bite and balance sweet drinks.
Not so good: Amer Picon is hard to get outside France. I brought back a bottle once, wrapped in socks. The bottle survived. The socks did not.
Little Lessons I Learned
- Small pours go far. Many of these are bold. Start with 1/2 oz.
- Keep the caps clean. Sugar makes a glue ring. Hot water saves the day.
- Most liqueurs don’t need the fridge. I chill the fruity ones anyway. They taste crisper.
- Price varies a lot. My order for value: Cointreau, St-Germain, cassis. Chartreuse is a splurge.
- Pair with food. Cassis with cheese. Suze with salty chips. Grand Marnier with dark chocolate.
If You’re Starting a French Shelf
Here’s a simple starter set that I actually use:
For a quick map of which French regions craft these spirits and why they taste the way they do, I often browse JustFrance.org for easy context.
- Cointreau: for Margaritas, Sidecars, and, honestly, everything.
- St-Germain: for spritzes and brunch.
- Crème de Cassis: for quick Kir and easy party wins.
- Suze: for White Negroni and long summer sips.
Then, if you’re curious, add Bénédictine for cozy nights and Chartreuse for wow moments.
My Take
French liqueurs feel like little mood buttons. Cointreau makes tacos sing. St-Germain turns a picnic soft and sweet. Cassis fixes a flat white wine. Suze cuts through the heat like a cool breeze. Chartreuse? That one is a forest in a bottle. Special, rare, a bit stubborn.
And speaking of mood buttons, mixing drinks often overlaps with thinking about company. If you’re curious about lining up an equally adventurous drinking partner for a flirty night in, I found this candid rundown of Mysinder helpful—it explains how the site streamlines casual, adults-only connections so you can spend more time shaking cocktails and less time swiping through endless profiles.
On the other hand, some evenings call for taking those craft cocktails out on the town—maybe even somewhere new. If you ever find yourself bar-hopping along Connecticut’s waterfront and would like a companion who can appreciate a well-balanced Sidecar as much as you do, browsing a dedicated directory for