THE DAYLIGHT DRINK
"Something too much of this."
"A nipping and an eager air."
Evil effects of dram-drinking--The "Gin-crawl"--Abstinence
in H.M. service--City manners and customs--Useless to argue
with the soaker--Cocktails--Pet names for drams--The free lunch
system--Fancy mixtures--Why no Cassis?--Good advice like water
on a duck's back.
Whilst holding the same opinion as the epicure who declared that good
eating required good drinking, there is no question but that there
should be a limit to both. There is, as Shakespeare told us, a tide
in the affairs of man, so why should there not be in this particular
affair? Why should it be only ebb tide during the few hours that the
man is wrapped in the arms of a Bacchanalian Morpheus, either in
bed or in custody? The abuse of good liquor is surely as criminal a
folly as the abstention therefrom; and the man who mixes his liquors
injudiciously lacks that refinement of taste and understanding which
is necessary for the appreciation of a good deal of this book, or
indeed of any other useful volume. Our grandfathers swore terribly,
and drank deep; but their fun did not commence until after dinner. And
they drank, for the most part, the best of ale, and such port wine
as is not to be had in these days of free trade (which is only an
euphemism for adulteration) and motor cars. Although mine own teeth
are, periodically, set on edge by the juice of the grape consumed by
an ancestor or two; although the gout within me is an heritage from
the three-, aye! and four-, bottle era, I respect mine ancestors,
in that they knew not "gin and bitters." The baleful habit of
alcoholising the inner sinner between meal times, the pernicious habit
of dram-drinking, or "nipping," from early morn till dewy eve, was not
introduced into our cities until the latter half of the nineteenth
century had set in. "Brandy-and-soda," at first only used as a
"livener"--and a deadly livener it is--was unknown during the early
Victorian era; and the "gin-crawl," that interminable slouch around
the hostelries, is a rank growth of modernity.
The "nipping habit" came to us, with other pernicious "notions," from
across the Atlantic Ocean. It was Brother Jonathan who established the
bar system; and although for the most part, throughout Great Britain,
the alcohol is dispensed by young ladies with fine eyes and a great
deal of adventitious hair, and the "bar-keep," with his big watch
chain, and his "guns," placed within easy reach, for quick-shooting
saloon practice, is unknown on this side, the hurt of the system
(to employ an Americanism) "gets there just the same." There is not
the same amount of carousing in the British army as in the days
when I was a "gilded popinjay" (in the language of Mr. John Burns;
"a five-and-twopenny assassin," in the words of somebody else). In
those days the use of alcohol, if not absolutely encouraged for the
use of the subaltern, was winked at by his superiors, as long as the
subalterns were not on duty, or on the line of march--and I don't
know so much about the line of march, either. But with any orderly or
responsible duty to be done, the beverage of heroes was not admired.
"Now mind," once observed our revered colonel, in the ante-room, after
dinner, "none of you young officers get seeing snakes and things, or
otherwise rendering yourselves unfit for service; or I'll try the lot
of you by court martial, I will, by ----." Here the adjutant let the
regimental bible drop with a bang. Tea is the favourite ante-room
refreshment nowadays, when the officer, young or old, is always either
on duty, or at school. And the education of the modern warrior is
never completed.
But the civilian--sing ho! the wicked civilian--is a reveller, and
a winebibber, for the most part. Very little business is transacted
except over what is called "a friendly glass." "I want seven hundred
an' forty-five from you, old chappie," says Reggie de Beers of the
"House," on settling day. "Right," replies his friend young "Berthas":
"toss you double or quits. Down with it!" And it would be a cold
day were not a magnum or two of "the Boy" to be opened over the
transaction. The cheap eating-house keeper who has spent his morning
at the "market," cheapening a couple of pigs, or a dozen scraggy
fowls, will have spent double the money he has saved in the bargain,
in rum and six-penny ale, ere he gets home again; and even a wholesale
deal in evening journals, between two youths in the street, requires
to be "wetted." Very sad is it not? But, as anything which I--who am
popularly supposed to be something resembling a roysterer, but who
am in reality one of the most discreet of those who enjoy life--can
write is not likely to work a change in the system which obtains
amongst English-speaking nations, perhaps the sooner I get on with the
programme the better. Later on I may revert to the subject.
Amongst daylight (and midnight, for the matter of that) drinks, the
COCKTAIL, that fascinating importation from Dollarland, holds a
prominent place. This is a concoction for which, with American bars
all over the Metropolis, the cockney does not really require any
recipe. But as I trust to have some country readers, a few directions
may be appended.
_Brandy Cocktail._
One wine-glassful of old brandy, six drops of Angostura
bitters, and twenty drops of curaçoa, in a small tumbler--all
cocktails should be made in a small silver tumbler--shake, and
pour into glass tumbler, then fill up with crushed ice. Put a
shred of lemon peel atop.
_Champagne Cocktail._
One teaspoonful of sifted sugar, ten drops of Angostura
bitters, a small slice of pine-apple, and a shred of lemon
peel. Strain into glass tumbler, add crushed ice, and as much
champagne as the tumbler will hold. Mix with a spoon.
_Bengal Cocktail._
Fill tumbler half full of crushed ice. Add thirty drops of
maraschino, one tablespoonful of pine-apple syrup, thirty drops
of curaçoa, six drops of Angostura bitters, one wine-glassful
of old brandy. Stir, and put a shred of lemon peel atop.
_Milford Cocktail._
(Dedicated to Mr. Jersey.)
Put into a half-pint tumbler a couple of lumps of best
ice, one teaspoonful of sifted sugar, one teaspoonful of orange
bitters, half a wine-glassful of brandy. Top up with bottled
cider, and mix with a spoon. Serve with a strawberry, and a
sprig of verbena atop.
_Manhattan Cocktail._
Half a wine-glassful of vermouth (Italian), half a
wine-glassful of rye whisky (according to the American recipe,
though, personally, I prefer Scotch), ten drops of Angostura
bitters, and six drops of curaçoa. Add ice, shake well, and
strain. Put a shred of lemon peel atop.
_Yum Yum Cocktail._
Break the yolk of a new-laid egg into a small tumbler, and
put a teaspoonful of sugar on it. Then six drops of Angostura
bitters, a wine-glassful of sherry, and half a wine-glassful
of brandy. Shake all well together, and strain. Dust a very
little cinnamon over the top.
_Gin Cocktail._
Ten drops of Angostura bitters, one wine-glassful of gin,
ten drops of curaçoa, one shred of lemon peel. Fill up with
ice, shake, and strain.
_Newport Cocktail._
Put two lumps of ice and a small _slice_ of lemon into
the tumbler, add six drops of Angostura bitters, half a
wine-glassful of noyau, and a wine-glassful of brandy. Stir
well, and serve with peel atop.
_Saratoga Cocktail._
This is a more important affair, and requires a large
tumbler for the initial stage. One teaspoonful of pine-apple
syrup, ten drops of Angostura bitters, one teaspoonful of
maraschino, and a wine-glassful of old brandy. Nearly fill the
tumbler with crushed ice, and shake well. Then place a couple
of strawberries in a small tumbler, strain the liquid on them,
put in a strip of lemon peel, and top up with champagne.
_Whisky Cocktail._
Put into a small tumbler ten drops of Angostura bitters,
and one wine-glassful of Scotch whisky. Fill the tumbler with
crushed ice, shake well, strain into a large wine-glass, and
place a strip of peel atop.
But the ordinary British "bar-cuddler"--as he is called in the
slang of the day--recks not of cocktails, nor, indeed, of Columbian
combinations of any sort. He has his own particular "vanity," and
frequently a pet name for it. "Gin-and-angry-story" (Angostura),
"slow-and-old" (sloe-gin and Old Tom), "pony o' Burton, please
miss," are a few of the demands the attentive listener may hear
given. Orange-gin, gin-and-orange-gin, gin-and-sherry (O bile where
is thy sting?), are favourite midday "refreshers"; and I have
heard a well-known barrister call for "a split Worcester" (a small
wine-glassful of Worcester sauce with a split soda), without a smile
on his expressive countenance. "Small lem. and a dash" is a favourite
summer beverage, and, withal, a harmless one, consisting of a small
bottle of lemonade with about an eighth of a pint of bitter ale added
thereto. In one old-fashioned hostelry I wot of--the same in which
the chair of the late Doctor Samuel Johnson is on view--customers who
require to be stimulated with gin call for "rack," and Irish whisky
is known by none other name than "Cork." The habitual "bar-cuddler"
usually rubs his hands violently together, as he requests a little
attention from the presiding Hebe; and affects a sort of shocked
surprise at the presence on the scene of any one of his friends or
acquaintances. He is well-up, too, in the slang phraseology of the
day, which he will ride to death on every available opportunity. Full
well do I remember him in the "How's your poor feet?" era; and it
seems but yesterday that he was informing the company in assertive
tones, "Now we _shan't_ be long!" The "free lunch" idea of the
Yankees is only thoroughly carried out in the "North Countree,"
where, at the best hotels, there is often a great bowl of soup, or
a dish of jugged hare, or of Irish stew, _pro bono publico_; and by
_publico_ is implied the hotel directorate as well as the customers.
In London, however, the free lunch seldom soars above salted almonds,
coffee beans, cloves, with biscuits and American cheese. But at
most refreshment-houses is to be obtained for cash some sort of a
restorative sandwich, or _bonne bouche_, in the which anchovies and
hard-boiled eggs play leading parts; and amongst other restorative
food, I have noticed that parallelograms of cold Welsh rarebit are
exceedingly popular amongst wine-travellers and advertisement-agents.
The genius who propounded the statement that "there is nothing like
leather" could surely never have sampled a cold Welsh rarebit!
_Bosom Caresser._
Put into a small tumbler one wine-glassful of sherry,
half a wine-glassful of old brandy, the yolk of an egg, two
teaspoonfuls of sugar, and two grains of cayenne pepper; add
crushed ice, shake well, strain, and dust over with nutmeg and
cinnamon.
_A Nicobine_,
(or "Knickerbein" as I have seen it spelt), used to be a favourite
"short" drink in Malta, and consisted of the yolk of an egg (intact)
in a wine-glass with _layers_ of curaçoa, maraschino, and green
chartreuse; the liquors not allowed to mix with one another. The
"knickerbein" recipe differs materially from this, as brandy is
substituted for chartreuse, and the ingredients are shaken up and
strained, the white of the egg being whisked and placed atop. But,
either way, you will get a good, bile-provoking mixture. In the
_West Indies_,
if you thirst for a rum and milk, cocoa-nut milk is the
"only wear"; and a very delicious potion it is. A favourite
mixture in Jamaica was the juice of a "star" apple, the juice
of an orange, a wine-glassful of sherry, and a dust of nutmeg.
I never heard a name given to this.
_Bull's Milk._
This is a comforting drink for summer or winter. During the latter
season, instead of adding ice, the mixture may be heated.
One teaspoonful of sugar in a _large_ tumbler, half-a-pint
of milk, half a wine-glassful of rum, a wine-glassful of
brandy; add ice, shake well, strain, and powder with cinnamon
and nutmeg.
_Fairy Kiss._
Put into a small tumbler the juice of a quarter of lemon,
a quarter of a wine-glassful each of the following:--Vanilla
syrup, curaçoa, yellow chartreuse, brandy. Add ice, shake, and
strain.
_Flash of Lightning._
One-third of a wine-glassful each of the following, in a
small tumbler:--Raspberry syrup, curaçoa, brandy, and three
drops of Angostura bitters. Add ice, shake and strain.
_Flip Flap._
One wine-glassful of milk in a small tumbler, one
well-beaten egg, a little sugar, and a wine-glassful of port.
Ice, shake, strain, and sprinkle with cinnamon and nutmeg.
_Maiden's Blush._
Half a wine-glassful of sherry in a small tumbler, a
quarter of a wine-glassful of strawberry syrup, and a little
lemon juice. Add ice, and a little raspberry syrup. Shake, and
drink through straws.
_Athole Brose_
is compounded, according to a favourite author, in the following
manner:--
"Upon virgin honeycombs you pour, according to their
amount, the oldest French brandy and the most indisputable
Scotch whisky in equal proportions. You allow this goodly
mixture to stand for days in a large pipkin in a cool place,
and it is then strained and ready for drinking. Epicures drop
into the jug, by way of imparting artistic finish, a small
fragment of the honeycomb itself. This I deprecate."
_Tiger's Milk._
Small tumbler. Half a wine-glassful each of cider and
Irish whisky, a wine-glassful of peach brandy. Beat up
separately the white of an egg with a little sugar, and add
this. Fill up the tumbler with ice; shake, and strain. Add half
a tumbler of milk, and grate a little nutmeg atop.
_Wyndham._
Large tumbler. Equal quantities (a liqueur glass of each)
of maraschino, curaçoa, brandy, with a little orange peel,
and sugar. Add a glass of champagne, and a _small_ bottle of
seltzer water. Ice, and mix well together. Stir with a spoon.
_Happy Eliza._
Put into a skillet twelve fresh dried figs cut open, four
apples cut into slices without peeling, and half a pound of
loaf sugar, broken small. Add two quarts of water, boil for
twenty minutes, strain through a--where's the brandy? Stop!
I've turned over two leaves, and got amongst the _Temperance
Drinks_. Rein back!
_Mint Julep._
This, properly made, is the most delicious of all American
beverages. It is mixed in a large tumbler, in the which are
placed, first of all, two and a half tablespoonfuls of water,
one tablespoonful of sugar (crushed), and two or three sprigs
of mint, which should be pressed, with a spoon or crusher,
into the sugar and water to extract the flavour. Add two
wine-glassfuls of old brandy--_now_ we shan't be long--fill up
with powdered ice, shake well, get the mint to the top of the
tumbler, stalks down, and put a few strawberries and slices
of orange atop. Shake in a little rum, last of all, and drink
through straws.
_Possets._
(An eighteenth-century recipe.)
"Take three gills of sweet cream, a grated rind of lemon,
and juice thereof, three-quarters of a pint of sack or Rhenish
wine. Sweeten to your taste with loaf sugar, then beat in a
bowl with a whisk for one hour, and fill your glasses and
drink to the king."
We are tolerably loyal in this our time; still it is problematical if
there exist man or woman in Merry England, in our day who would whisk
a mixture for sixty minutes by the clock, even with the prospect of
drinking to the reigning monarch.
_Brandy Sour._
This is simplicity itself. A teaspoonful of sifted
sugar in a small tumbler, a little lemon rind and juice, one
wine-glassful of brandy. Fill nearly up with crushed ice, shake
and strain. WHISKY SOUR is merely Scotch whisky treated in the
same kind, open-handed manner, with the addition of a few drops
of raspberry syrup.
_Blue Blazer._
Don't be frightened; there is absolutely no danger.
Put into a silver mug, or jug, previously heated, two
wine-glassfuls of overproof (or proof) Scotch whisky, and one
wine-glassful of _boiling_ water. Set the liquor on fire, and
pass the blazing liquor into another mug, also well heated.
Pass to and fro, and serve in a tumbler, with a lump of
sugar and a little thin lemon peel. Be very particular not
to drop any of the blazer on the cat, or the hearth-rug, or
the youngest child. This drink would, I should think, have
satisfied the aspirations of Mr. Daniel Quilp.
One of the most wholesome of all "refreshers," is a simple liquor,
distilled from black-currants, and known to our lively neighbours as
_Cassis._
This syrup can be obtained in the humblest _cabaret_ in France; but
we have to thank the eccentric and illogical ways of our Customs
Department for its absence from most of our own wine lists. The duty
is so prohibitive--being half as much again as that levied on French
brandy--that it would pay nobody but said Customs Department to import
it into England; and yet the amount of alcohol contained in cassis is
infinitesimal. Strange to say nobody has ever started a cassis still
on this side. One would imagine that the process would be simplicity
itself; as the liquor is nothing but cold black-currant tea, with a
suspicion of alcohol in it.
_Sligo Slop._
This is an Irish delight. The juice of ten lemons,
strained, ten tablespoonfuls of sifted sugar, one quart
of John Jameson's oldest and best whisky, and two port
wine-glassfuls of curaçoa, all mixed together. Let the
mixture stand for a day or two, and then bottle. This should
be drunk neat, in liqueur-glasses, and is said to be most
effectual "jumping-powder." It certainly reads conducive to
timber-topping.
Take it altogether the daylight drink is a mistake. It is simply ruin
to appetite; it is more expensive than those who indulge therein
are aware of at the time. It ruins the nerves, sooner or later; it
is _not_ conducive to business, unless for those whose heads are
especially hard; and it spoils the palate for the good wine which is
poured forth later on. The precept cannot be too widely laid down, too
fully known:
_Do not drink between Meals!_
Better, far better the three-bottle-trick of our ancestors, than the
"gin-crawl" of to-day.