PUNCH
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 fœdere 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.
{115}