I’ll be the first to admit that I like the Honey Deuce. Maybe it’s the fact that it represents one of my favorite times of year—the harbinger of a dramatic series of matches set against the backdrop of the greatest city in the world. Or maybe it’s the charming string of honeydew melon balls I consider a stroke of genius on the part of its creator Nick Mautone, a successful restaurateur who had been managing partner at Gramercy Tavern in 2006 when Grey Goose tapped him to develop a drink for the tournament.
In any case, the world seems to agree. Over the past two decades, sales of the bright-pink beverage have skyrocketed. In 2021, the US Open bragged about having sold more than one million Honey Deuces across the previous four tournaments—a number that sounds impressive until you look at their most recent stats. During 2025’s tournament alone, fans slammed back 738,459 at $23 a pop—roughly one Honey Deuce for every second the gates were open. Increasing prices and their recent shift to batched cocktails be damned.
But I’ll also be the first to admit that it’s a pretentious little brat of a drink. It’s expensive (price hikes have substantially outpaced inflation, though shockingly they held it at $23 again this year), fairly weak, and if it were a person, it would put Taylor Swift’s complexion to shame. It’s not exactly my style. Nor do I care for vodka.
So here’s my rebuttal: the Henny Deuce. The people’s drink. And, in my not-so-humble opinion, the superior cocktail—stronger, more sophisticated, and infinitely more democratic. Call me, LVMH.
