Fee Brothers Turkish Tobacco Bitters | 2.4% ABV | 15cl | Premium Cocktail Bitters | Smoky, Rich Flavour | Perfect for Elevating Cocktails and Craft Drinks

Great additive for a Smokey Bourbon 👍

Didn’t know what to expect but we were amazed by how good this is. Worked wonders for our smoky mezcalita 🎉🔥

Sooo good

Coffee and cloves, sweet flavouring. not bitters, not tobacco

Not a good flavour. Love all the order Fee brothers I’ve tried but this is too unsubtle

This is amazing and an old-fashioned if you like a rich smoky flavor. I’ve had it with bourbon and tequila old-fashioned. Smoking it on top of this adds a really nice touch as well.

One of the more interesting bitters I've tried out. 2 dashes of this and one dash of regular Fees or Angostura in a Old Fashioned, and it is a totally different animal, that will have your guests smacking their lips and trying to figure out what it was they just tasted.

Let me start by saying: I don’t smoke. Never have. Never wanted to. So when I saw tobacco bitters on the menu at a fancy cocktail bar, I braced myself for what I assumed would taste like licking an old ashtray garnished with regret. Reader, I was wrong. So wrong. That old-fashioned hit me like a brooding jazz musician in a velvet blazer whispering sweet nothings through a cloud of mystery and oak. It was smoky, leathery, rich, dangerously smooth — like Don Draper decided to take up woodworking and mix cocktails in the woods. And just like that, I fell in love. Naturally, I hunted down these bitters like a bloodhound possessed and bought them with the kind of impulsive glee usually reserved for drunk online shopping or late-night infomercials. And let me tell you — they did not disappoint. These bitters are orgasmic. I don’t say that lightly. I said it out loud in my kitchen after one sip, which startled my dog and made me question a few things about my life choices. The dog won't look me in the eye any longer, but that's beside the point. They’re warm. They’re complex. They whisper of campfires, vanilla, spice, shoe leather, and maybe a hint of danger. They elevate your old-fashioned from “meh” to “Michelin-starred speakeasy run by ghosts of Prohibition-era bartenders.” If you’ve got a bottle of bourbon and even a vague sense of adventure, do yourself a favor. Buy these bitters. Then light a candle, cue up some Coltrane, and prepare to fall in love with your drink. No cigarettes required. Warn your dog though.

Let me begin by saying I don’t smoke. Not in any official, lung-afflicting capacity. But the idea of tobacco—particularly Turkish tobacco—has always held the same moody, dangerous allure as a French exchange student who calls you “pitiful” and smells faintly of clove and contempt. So when I saw Turkish Tobacco Bitters online, I thought, finally, something to class up my sad little cocktail routine, which lately has consisted of pouring cheap bourbon into a mug that still smells like the morning’s Earl Grey. The bottle arrived looking like it had been hand-sealed by someone with excellent bone structure and questionable morals. I opened it and was immediately struck by a scent that can only be described as “Velvet Underground album played in an antique cigar box.” Intrigued, I dashed a few drops into my drink and took a sip. Instantly, I was transported to a late-night jazz club in Istanbul that may or may not exist. A man in a linen suit judged me silently from across the bar. The walls were stained with stories. And I—a non-smoker, middle-aged, suburban homeowner with a mild gluten sensitivity—was suddenly mysterious. This is not a flavor for the weak. It is moody. It is slightly bitter. It has notes of leather, regret, and possibly the ghost of a libertine who once challenged Oscar Wilde to a duel. But if you’ve ever wanted to feel like you might own a raven, or write poetry that makes people uncomfortable, this is your bitters. I give it five stars for sheer drama, two for compatibility with soda water, and an honorary Nobel in Literature for its ability to turn my Wednesday night into a novella of questionable decisions. Would I buy it again? Absolutely. Would I let it babysit my plants while I’m out of town? Probably not.

Just a few dashes is enough. Makes a good mocktail with cranberry juice and cardamon syrup.