Derivation of the word questioned — Not an Asiatic drink — “Pale-punts” — No relation to pale punters — Properties of rum — Toddy as a tonic — Irish punch — Glasgie ditto — O’er muckle cauld watter — One to seven — Hech sirs! — Classical sherbet — Virtues of the feet of calves — West India dry gripes — Make your own punch — No deputy allowed — Attraction of capillaire — Gin punch — Eight recipes for milk punch — University heart-cheerers. When e’en a bowl of punch we make, Four striking opposites we take: The strong, the small, the sharp, the sweet, Together mix’d, most kindly meet, And when they happily unite The bowl is pregnant with delight. In Cakes and Ale, grave doubts are expressed as to whether the usually-accepted derivation of punch is the correct one. Why Asia should be raked to find a name for a purely European concoction, is beyond my powers of argument; and, as observed in another place, in the concoction of this seductive brew it is by no means necessary to limit oneself to five ingredients. It may be news to the adopters of the panch (five) theory to read that punch was at one time {102} called “pale-punts,” why or wherefore deponent sayeth not; here is the extract from a work published A.D. 1691:— “Pale-punts, here vulgarly known by the name of Punch; a drink compounded of brandy or aqua vitÆ, juice of lemons, oranges, sugar, or such like; very usual amongst those that frequent the sea, where a bowl of punch is an usual beverage.” But it was “usual” only in the days of sailing-ships and long voyages; and with fast steamers and whole evenings devoted to the beauties of poker, or selling pools, a more usual modern maritime drink is a modicum of whisky diluted with aËrated water. “The liquor called Punch,” writes another professional authority, “has become so truly English, it is often supposed to be indigenous to this country, though its name at least is Oriental. The Persian punj, or Sanscrit pancha, i.e. five (vide Fryer’s Travels), is the etymon of its title, and denotes the number of ingredients of which it is composed. Addison’s ‘fox-hunter,’ who testified so much surprise when he found that of the materials of which this ‘truly English’ beverage was made only the water belonged to England, would have been still more astonished had his informant also told him that it derived even its name from the East.” But did natives of the East drink it? Tell me that. “Various opinions are entertained respecting this compound drink. Some authors praise it as a cooling and refreshing beverage, when drunk {103} in moderation; others condemn the use of it as prejudicial to the brain and nervous system. Dr. Cheyne, a celebrated Scotch physician, author of an essay on ‘Long Life and Health,’ and who by a system of diet and regimen reduced himself from the enormous weight of thirty-two stone to nearly one-third, which enabled him to live to the age of seventy-two, insists that there is but one wholesome ingredient in it, and that is the water. Dr. Willich, on the contrary, asserts that if a proper quantity of acid be used in making punch, it is an excellent antiseptic, and well calculated to supply the place of wine in resisting putrefaction, especially if drank cold with plenty of sugar; it also promotes perspiration; but if drank hot and immoderately it creates acidity in the stomach, weakens the nerves, and gives rise to complaints of the breast. He further states that after a heavy meal it is improper, as it may check digestion, and injure the stomach. “Rennie states that he once heard a facetious physician at a public hospital prescribe for a poor fellow sinking under the atrophy of starvation a bowl of punch. Mr. Wadd gives us a prescription:— “‘Rum, aqua dulci miscetur acetum, et fiet ex tali foedere nobile Punch.’ “He also states that toddy, or punch without acid, when made for a day or two before it is used, is a good and cheap substitute for wine as a tonic, in convalescence from typhus fever, etc.” It is here worthy of note that what is meant by “punch” in Ireland is, and has been for at least two centuries, whisky, sugar, lemon, and {104} the less water the better. A very old way of concocting it is to melt the sugar within the tumbler (which should be covered, pro tem.) with the smallest quantity of water sufficient for the purpose, the thin lemon-rind having been previously added. Then comes the whisky; “and,” according to the old formula, “the laste dhrop o’ wather” added atop of the “crathur” will spoil the punch. But in all English works in which punch has been mentioned—previous to the early seventies, at all events—by the active ingredients of punch should be understood either rum, brandy, or gin. “English Punch,” says a writer of our own time, “is, as regards the spirit, mostly of two kinds—brandy and rum, mixed in proportions which must be left to taste. The rum generally predominates. The acid is nearly always lemon juice. The spice is nearly always lemon-peel, but sometimes tea-leaf”—now marry come up!—“sometimes nutmeg; and as for the sugar and the water they explain themselves.” The Scotch make toddy in very much the same way as the Irish concoct their punch. But Glasgow Punch, according to John Gibson Lockhart, was compounded with the coldest spring-water—a commodity which would seem to be growing somewhat scarce in Caledonia—for the purpose of punch-making, at all events. {105} The sugar being melted with a little cold water, the artist squeezed about a dozen lemons through a wooden strainer, and then poured in water enough almost to fill the bowl. In this state the liquor goes by the name of sherbet, and a few of the connoisseurs in his immediate neighbourhood were requested to give their opinion of it—for in the mixing of the sherbet lies, according to the Glasgow creed at least, one half of the whole battle. This being approved by an audible smack from the lips of the umpires, the rum was added to the beverage, I suppose in something about the proportion of one to seven--.
Hech sirs! Or, does it mean seven of rum to one of the spring? Last of all the maker cut a few limes, and running each section rapidly round the rim of his bowl, squeezed in enough of this more delicate acid to flavour the whole composition. In this consists the true tour-de-maÎtre of the punch-maker.
Oxford Punch
or
Classical Sherbet is a very ancient beverage, and from the sustaining powers of the calves’-foot jelly (under what heading, amongst punch ingredients, does this come, by the way?) inserted therein might fairly pose as meat and drink. Extract the juice from the rind of three lemons, by rubbing loaf-sugar on them. The peeling of two Seville oranges and two lemons, cut extremely {106} thin. The juice of four Seville oranges and ten lemons. Six glasses of calves’-feet jelly in a liquid state. The above to be put into a jug and stirred well together. Pour two quarts of boiling water on the mixture, cover the jug closely, and place it near the fire for a quarter of an hour. Then strain the liquid through a sieve into a punch bowl or jug, sweeten it with a bottle of capillaire (the recipe for this follows), and add half a pint of white wine, a pint of French brandy, a pint of Jamaica rum, and a bottle of orange shrub; the mixture to be stirred as the spirits are poured in. If not sufficiently sweet, add loaf-sugar, or a little more capillaire. To be served either hot or cold.
In making the punch limes are sometimes used instead of lemons, but are not so wholesome; in fact Arbuthnot, in his work on aliments, says: “The West India dry gripes are occasioned by lime-juice in punch.” And nobody wants them. Ignorant servants sometimes put oxalic acid into punch, to give it a flavour; but unless the throats of the drinkers be lined with brass, this acid is of no real service. And the host who would entrust the making of any sort of punch to a subordinate, must be either very ignorant, or very careless of the comfort of his guests—and possibly both. Cups, punches, and salads should always be concocted by somebody who will make personal trial of their merits. To make Capillaire, put two ounces of freshly-gathered maidenhair fern into a jug, with sufficient boiling water to cover it. {107} Let it stand in front of the fire to infuse for some hours; then strain and put it into a clear syrup made by boiling together three pounds of sugar and three pints of water; add two tablespoonfuls of orange-flower water, and stir the mixture over the fire for a few minutes. Strain through a jelly-bag, and bottle when cold.
A more potent punch can be made from the same recipe as the Oxford Punch, by leaving out the calves’-feet jelly, and substituting green tea for water. And this sort is invariably drunk hot. Mix three wine-glasses of noyeau with the original recipe and it is entitled to the name of Noyeau Punch. Omit the rum, brandy, and shrub, and substitute two bottles of gin, and it becomes Gin Punch. If I could only afford to keep a secretary, a clever stenographer and type-writer, I might be able to supply the world with gratuitous recipes for cooling cups, dainty drinks, and peerless punches, and earn, maybe, the thanks of both Houses of Parliament, and a granite bust on the Thames Embankment or in Shaftesbury Avenue. It is entirely due to lack of funds that I am issuing books on the subject of meat and drink; and I will now proceed to enlighten the thousands of alleged bons-vivants, who ask questions as to the concoction of Milk Punch. There are many recipes for this seductive drink, each one better than its predecessor. {108} -
1. Warm two quarts or water and one of new milk, then mix them well together, and sweeten with a sufficient quantity of loaf-sugar. Rub a few lumps of sugar on the peel of a lemon, put them into a jug with the above, and half a pint of lemon juice, stirring the mixture well as it is poured in. Then add one quart of old brandy. Strain and bottle off, and in cold weather it will keep a fortnight. -
2. Dissolve two pounds and a half of sugar in one gallon of cold spring-water; add thereto a quarter of a pint of orange-flower water, with the juice of twenty limes and eight oranges. Stir well together; pour one quart of boiling milk into it, and then add three bottles of old brandy, and a like quantity of orange brandy shrub. Strain and bottle off. -
3. Cut the peeling of six Seville oranges and six lemons very thin. Pound in a stone mortar. Add one pint of brandy and let the mixture stand six hours, covered. Then squeeze in the juice of six Seville oranges and eight lemons. Stir well, and add three more pints of brandy, three pints of rum, and three quarts of water. Make two quarts of milk boiling hot, and grate a nutmeg into it; mix this gradually with the other ingredients, and add a sufficient quantity of loaf-sugar to sweeten it—about two pounds. Stir till the sugar is dissolved; let the mixture stand twelve hours, then strain through a jelly-bag until quite clear. Bottle off, and it will keep in any climate for any length of time. -
4. - Three bottles of rum.
- One bottle of sherry.
- Three pounds of loaf-sugar.
- The rind of six lemons and the juice of twelve.
- One quart of boiling skim milk.
Mix together, and let the mixture stand eight days, {109} stirring it each day. Strain and bottle, and let it stand three months. Then re-bottle, and let the bottles lie on their sides in the cellar for two years, to mature. The flavour will be much better than if drunk after the first period of three months. -
5. For a solitary drink. Put into a small tumbler a teaspoonful of sugar, half a wine-glassful of old brandy, half a wine-glassful of old rum, and fill up with boiling milk. -
6. Put into a bottle of rum or brandy the thinly-pared rinds of three Seville oranges, and three lemons. Cork tightly for two days. Rub off on two pounds loaf-sugar the rinds of six lemons, squeeze the juice of the fruit over the two pounds sugar, add one quart of boiling water, and one of boiling milk. Mix well till the sugar is dissolved, and grate a little nutmeg over the mixture. Pour in the rum or brandy, stir, and strain till clear: bottle off. -
7. Cut off the thin yellow rind of four lemons and one Seville orange, taking care not to include even a fragment of the white rind, and place in a basin. Pour in a bottle of old rum, and let it stand, covered over, for twelve hours. Then strain, and mix with it one pint of lemon juice, and two pints of cold water, in which one pound of sugar-candy has been dissolved; add the whites of two eggs, beaten to a froth, three pints more of rum, one pint of madeira, one pint of strong green tea, and a wine-glassful of maraschino. Mix thoroughly, and pour over all one pint of boiling milk. Let the punch stand a little while, then strain through a jelly-bag, and either use at once (as you will naturally feel inclined) or bottle off for festivals.
It is assumed, by the compiler of this little volume, that the best materials only will be used by the concocters of these compound drinks. {110} -
8, and last. The best recipe for milk punch extant. Over the yellow rinds of four lemons and one Seville orange pour one pint of rum. Let it stand, covered over, for twelve hours. Strain and mix in two pints more of rum, one pint of brandy, one pint of sherry, half a pint of lemon juice, the expressed juice of a peeled pine-apple, one pint of green tea, one pound of sugar dissolved in one quart of boiling water, the whites of two eggs beaten up, one quart of boiling milk. Mix well, let it cool, strain through a jelly-bag, and drink, or bottle off.
Restorative Punch. [This is another Oxford recipe, and used to be the favourite potion of the embryo Gladstones and Roseberies, before proceeding to discuss the affairs of the nation at the “Union.” There is “no offence in’t.”] Extract the juice from the peeling of one Seville orange and one lemon; the juice of six Seville oranges and six lemons, six glasses of calves’-feet jelly in a liquid state, and about half a pound of loaf-sugar; put the whole into a jug, pour on it one quart of boiling water, and then add one pint of old brandy. Stir well together, and use.
Almond Punch. Extract the juice from the peeling of one Seville orange and one lemon by rubbing loaf-sugar on them; the juice of six lemons and one Seville orange, one bottle of capillaire, and a quarter of a pound of loaf-sugar. Put the whole into a jug, and when well mixed pour upon it three pints of boiling {111} water. Cover the jug close, and keep it near the fire for a quarter of an hour. Then add three ounces of sweet, and half an ounce of bitter, almonds, blanched and pounded fine in a mortar, and gradually mixed with a bottle of old brandy. Stir well, and it may be used immediately.
Egg Punch. [Also once a favourite beverage at the universities.] One quart of cold water, the juice of six lemons and six oranges, four glasses of calves’-feet jelly in a liquid state; stir the whole well together; let it remain covered over for half an hour, then strain through a hair sieve, and add one bottle of capillaire, two glasses of sherry, half a pint of brandy, and one bottle of orange shrub. Put some pulverized sugar and ten fresh hens’ eggs into a bowl, beat them well together, and gradually unite the two mixtures by keeping the eggs well stirred as it is poured in; then whip it with a whisk until a fine froth rises, and if sweet enough it is fit for immediate use. This punch should be drunk as soon as made, for it will not keep sweet. Omit the wine and spirits, and freeze the remainder, and a delicious mould of ice may be obtained.
The above can be converted into Shrub Punch, of a superior quality, by the simple omission of the eggs. Details are wanting as to the composition of the {112} Rack Punch of which Jos. Sedley partook so freely at Vauxhall, and which put a temporary stop to the carryings-on of the fascinating Miss Sharp with the susceptible Anglo-Indian. Thackeray does not tell us if this was an abbreviation of Arrack Punch. My own idea is that brandy and rum—of inferior quality—entered into it; although, as mentioned in a previous chapter, “rack” is the “Cheshyre Cheese” synonym for gin. But I should be inclined to back arrack. At all events this is one of the component parts of a Vauxhall Punch of which the recipe is in my possession. A large tumbler, one wine-glass of old brandy, one ditto of old rum, one ditto of arrack, the juice of half a lemon, and a tablespoonful of sugar. Mix, strain into two small tumblers, and fill up each with boiling water.
Uncle Toby. Here is another encouragement to the bile industry:— Rub the rind of one lemon on two lumps of sugar, put the sugar in a large tumbler with the juice of the lemon, and dissolve in one wine-glass of boiling water; then add one wine-glass of brandy, one ditto of rum, and two dittoes of hot stout; mix well, strain, and add more sugar if necessary. {113}
Victoria Punch. Throw into a bowl one lemon cut in slices, free from pips, two ounces of sifted sugar, two wine-glasses of boiling water, one wine-glass of hot milk, one wine-glass of old rum, and one ditto of ancient brandy; keep stirring whilst adding the ingredients; strain and serve.
Yorkshire Punch. I have not yet met this in the North Riding; but it is never too late to copy a good recipe. Rub the rinds of three lemons on a quarter of a pound of lump-sugar, and place the sugar in a bowl with the thin rind of one lemon and of one orange, the juice of four oranges and of ten lemons, six wine-glasses of calves’-feet jelly, and two quarts of boiling water. Mix thoroughly, strain, and add a pint of rum, a pint of brandy, and a bottle of orange shrub. Sweeten to taste.
Champagne Punch. Pare two lemons very thin, and steep the peel in one pint of rum. Add a wine-glass of sherry, half a pint of brandy, the juice of four lemons, a little capillaire, as much boiling water as you may fancy—play light with the kettle, lads—sweeten to taste, and last thing of all pour in a bottle of champagne.
The above will act as a restorative after a hard day’s hunting. Later in the evening the true sportsman may feel ready and willing to tackle a glass or two of the celebrated {114} Halo Punch, whose praises continue to be sung throughout the land. With a quarter of a pound of sugar rub off the outer rind of one lemon and two Seville oranges. Put rind and sugar into a large punch bowl with the juice and pulp; mix the sugar well with the juice and one teacupful of boiling water (just enough to melt it) and stir till cold. Add half a pint of pine-apple syrup, one pint of strong green tea, a wine-glass of maraschino, a liqueur-glass of noyeau, half a pint of “Liquid Sunshine” rum, one pint of old brandy, and a bottle and a half of “the Boy.” Sweeten to taste, strain, and serve.
Do not, oh! do not boil the above before serving, as did some Cleveland friends of mine, on the night of a certain Ebor Handicap. The result of this was a considerable amount of chaos. The above was the favourite tipple of the Prince Regent at the beginning of the present century.
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