Meet the Lost Plane: A Cocktail for Bold Palates
If you’ve ever found yourself torn between ordering a classic Negroni or something citrusy with a bitter twist, the Lost Plane might just be your new favorite cocktail. This drink doesn’t ask for permission—it makes an entrance. Bittersweet, punchy, and unapologetically aromatic, it’s a concoction that deserves the spotlight. And trust me, it’s not for the faint of palate (but don’t worry, I’ll guide you step by step).
The Lost Plane was born from the bones of classic cocktail recipes, but it veers off into unexplored territory—somewhere between an El Diablo and a paper plane that crash-landed over a bottle of mezcal. We’re talking smoky depth, precise acidity, and just enough sweetness to smooth it all out. Sound intriguing? Buckle up.
Why the Lost Plane?
There’s a reason this cocktail caught my attention behind the bar years ago. One rainy Tuesday afternoon (you know the kind—mid-service lull, glassware stacked, occasional regulars drifting in), a guest asked for “something bitter but not boring, smoky but not a campfire.” Challenge accepted. I experimented using the Paper Plane’s backbone—equal parts structure—and added a mezcal twist. The result? A drink that disappeared faster than happy hour.
I later learned variations were already circling around under names like “Paper Fire” or “Smoke Plane,” but I stuck with “Lost Plane.” Fitting, right? It’s a drink that feels just slightly off-route, in the best possible way.
Flavors at 30,000 Feet: What to Expect
The Lost Plane is built around bold contrasts:
- Smoky from the mezcal—this is your turbo engine.
- Bitter and herbaceous from Amaro Nonino or a similar amaro—equally grounding and elevating.
- Sour from freshly squeezed lemon juice to cut through the richness.
- Sweet but not sugary, thanks to the subtle depth of Aperol.
Together, these elements create a layered drink that evolves with each sip. It starts bright and citrusy, unfolds into smoky complexity, and finishes with a bitter orange fade. Think leather seats and jazz on the radio—unexpectedly sophisticated.
Classic Lost Plane Recipe
Like its spiritual predecessor the Paper Plane, the Lost Plane is an equal-parts cocktail. That means if you can remember one number, you’re golden.
Ingredients:
- 22.5 ml (¾ oz) Mezcal (go for something clean, not too funky—like Del Maguey Vida or Derrumbes)
- 22.5 ml (¾ oz) Amaro Nonino (or a similar herbal amaro like Montenegro if you’re in a pinch)
- 22.5 ml (¾ oz) Aperol
- 22.5 ml (¾ oz) fresh lemon juice
Method:
- Pour all ingredients into a shaker with ice.
- Shake like you’re crossing turbulence.
- Double strain into a chilled coupe or Nick & Nora glass.
- Optional: Garnish with a dehydrated lemon wheel or a paper-thin orange twist.
And that’s it. No smoke guns, no housemade syrups, no fuss. Just a shaker, good ice, and top-shelf flavor on takeoff.
Mezcal 101: How to Pick the Right One
If you’re still intimidated by mezcal, you’re not alone. I used to avoid it like fake maraschino cherries—too smoky, too aggressive. But there’s a wide spectrum out there, and the Lost Plane shines with those that bring balance and clarity, not just ashtray vibes.
Keep in mind:
- Look for joven (young) expressions—they tend to be brighter and better suited for mixing.
- Agave type matters: Espadín is most common and very mixable.
- Don’t overthink badge prestige. Instead, focus on bottles that list batch number, maestro mezcalero, and agave region. Transparency matters more than price.
Personal tip: Sip a little of your mezcal before making the cocktail. If it makes you think “bonfire by the beach at night,” you’re on the right track. If it feels like licking charcoal… maybe not.
Lost Plane, Found Twist: Easy Variations
Want to riff a little? The Lost Plane is surprisingly versatile. Here are a few tested tweaks I’ve played with (some bar-shift boredom required):
- Spicy version: Swap Aperol for Ancho Reyes for a smoky-chili kick.
- Citrus switch-up: Try fresh grapefruit juice instead of lemon, and reduce it slightly to 15 ml to keep the acidity in check.
- Swizzle style: Serve it tall over crushed ice with a mint sprig for something Tiki-meets-Tarmac.
- No mezcal? Use a smoky Scotch like Laphroaig in tiny quantity (10 ml tops) plus bourbon to even things out.
The key is balancing the boldness. If one ingredient overpowers the rest, the cocktail loses that harmonious altitude. Tweak intentionally, not randomly.
Pairing Tips: What to Serve with the Lost Plane
This isn’t a wine blog without food pairings, right? The Lost Plane is perfect with richly-flavored tapas or spicy snacks. Think Gorgonzola crostini, charred chorizo, grilled octopus, or even Nashville hot chicken if you’re feeling bold (and thirsty).
Why it works: the acidity and bitterness cuts through fat like a pro, and the mezcal complements smoked or grilled notes effortlessly. It’s a drink that plays well on the palate with substance in front of it.
Hosting Flight Night? Here’s an Idea
If you’re already a fan of the Paper Plane, turn your next gathering into a cocktail comparison. Set up a mini “flight night” featuring:
- The OG Paper Plane – Bourbon, Amaro Nonino, Aperol, lemon juice
- Smoked Out – The Lost Plane as described above
- The Jungle Plane – a tiki-styled take using passionfruit instead of lemon
Throw in some palate cleansers (think salt and citrus popcorn or blistered shishito peppers), good company, and you’ve got your own bar experience at home. Bonus tip: Turn the playlist tropical and unfiltered—it adds to the feeling that you’re not quite sure where you’re about to land.
The Final Word from Behind the Bar
Every bar shift taught me that the best cocktails are those you remember—not the ones that follow the rules to the letter. The Lost Plane fits that perfectly. It surprises and satisfies. It’s bold but balanced. And above all, it rewards curiosity.
So whether you’re sipping it solo on your balcony, shaking it up for friends, or discovering the magic of mezcal for the first time—this cocktail invites you to explore. Don’t be afraid to get a little lost on the way. That’s where the good stuff happens.
Cheers,
Bonnie