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Oxford Punch
Rub the rind of three fresh lemons with half a pound of loaf sugar, in lumps, until all the yellow part is taken off. Put the sugar into a large jug with the thin rind of a Seville orange and a lemon, the strained juice of three Seville oranges and eight lemons, and a pint of liquid calf's foot jelly. Mix these ingredients thoroughly. Pour over them two quarts of boiling water, and set the jug which contains them on the hob for twenty minutes. Strain the mixture into a punch-bowl, and when it is cool, mix with it a bottle of capillaire (an infusion of maidenhair fern, flavoured with sugar and orange-flower water) a pint of brandy, a pint of rum, half a pint of light wine, and a quart of orange shrub. Sufficient for nearly a gallon of punch.
A late-Georgian punch that survived into the Victorian cookery dictionaries largely unchanged. Two of its ingredients are no longer sold, and the whole thing is built around a step that is easy to skip and shouldn't be.
- Start with the sugar and rindRubbing lump sugar over the lemon peel until the sugar is stained yellow is the hinge of the recipe: it draws the peel oil into the sugar (the oleo-saccharum) and gives the punch its perfume. Zesting into granulated sugar and letting it stand an hour achieves the same thing; skipping it leaves a punch that tastes only of juice and spirit.
- Loaf sugarHalf a pound of loaf sugar is about 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons of granulated. Loaf sugar came as a hard cone broken into lumps, which is why the recipe specifies lumps for rubbing.
- Seville orangesBitter marmalade oranges, in season only in midwinter and rarely stocked otherwise. They are sour and aromatic rather than sweet; a workable stand-in is roughly two parts sweet orange juice to one part lemon or lime juice, with a strip of sweet orange peel for the rind.
- Calf's foot jellyA pint of jelly stock made by long-boiling calves' feet, used here for body and mouthfeel rather than flavour; the versions sold and made for the table were often sweetened and flavoured as well. A pint of water with a couple of teaspoons of powdered gelatine dissolved in it stands in for it, or leave it out and accept a thinner punch.
- CapillaireA sugar syrup infused with maidenhair fern and orange-flower water, once sold by the bottle and now gone from the trade. Substitute a heavy simple syrup scented with a few drops of orange-flower water; a bottle here is probably something on the order of a pint, and an imperial pint is 20 fl oz, about 2 1/2 cups -- the punch will be sweet.
- Orange shrubNot a modern vinegar shrub. In this period orange shrub was rum or brandy sweetened and flavoured with citrus juice and peel, closer to a liqueur. A quart is 40 fl oz, about 5 US cups, making it the largest single addition by volume, though being sweetened and diluted it is weaker than the brandy or rum; an orange curacao cut with a little rum and lemon juice is the nearest thing on a shelf today.
- On the hobTwenty minutes on the hob means held hot beside the fire, not boiled. Keep it below a simmer so the peel infuses without turning bitter, and let it cool before the spirits go in, or the alcohol and the orange-flower water will both go up the chimney.
- Imperial measures and yieldThe pints and quarts are imperial: a pint is 20 fl oz, a quart 40. The recipe reckons it at nearly a gallon, which would be enough for twenty-five to thirty small cups, and the proportion of spirit to liquid puts it somewhere around the strength of a table wine. It scales down cleanly by halves or quarters.
Punch of this kind belonged to the senior common room and the college celebration, and "Oxford Punch" was one of a family of university drinks set down in Oxford Night Caps, a small collection of recipes for such compounds first published in the 1820s and reprinted through the century; Cassell's inherited the formula more or less intact. Its ingredients suggest its period: Seville oranges and calf's foot jelly, and capillaire and orange shrub, which the recipe names as bottles. The gelatine is the detail most likely to surprise a modern reader, but jelly stock was used freely as a thickener in drinks and invalid cookery alike, and it gave a hot punch a silkiness that sugar alone could not.