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Punch, to Make
The grand secret, or rather art, of making genuine British punch consists in the preparation of a rich and delicate sherbet; this being accomplished, with the addition of the best Jamaica rum or French brandy, and pure hot or cold water, the mixture may be too strong or too weak, but cannot possibly prove bad punch.
In preparing sherbet for punch, the acids of cream of tartar, tamarinds, and various other prepared vegetable acids, as well as that known as citric acid, are occasionally employed; but perhaps, after all, the juices of limes, lemons, and Seville oranges, expressed from the fresh fruits, when attainable, make the sort of sherbet which seems most congenial with the nature of good British punch.
Procure a couple of ripe, sound, and fresh lemons or limes, and a Seville orange; rub off the yellow rind of one of the lemons with lumps of fine loaf sugar, putting each lump into the bowl as soon as it is saturated or clogged with the essence or grated rind; then thinly pare the other lemon and Seville orange, and put these rinds also into the bowl, to which add plenty of sugar; pour in a very small quantity of boiling water; and immediately squeeze in the juice of the fruit, followed by a little more hot water. Count Rumford recommended that a table-spoonful of rice should be boiled in each quart of water; it imparts a softness almost equal to jelly. Incorporate the whole well together with a punch ladle; and, putting aside a little of the sherbet thus composed, try its richness and flavour by the palate. If the fruit be good, a practised punch-maker will find little which requires to be regulated, and that little can soon be adjusted by supplying the aqueous, saccharine, or acid deficiencies, so as to produce a luscious and rich-bodied sherbet, fit for the reception of the spirit which is to give it animation. If straining should be found necessary, this is the period for using a lawn sieve, through which a little more hot water may afterwards be passed; and a few parings of the orange or lemon-rind are generally considered as having an agreeable appearance floating on the bowl. The sherbet being thus prepared, to make it into genuine British punch, spirit should be added, preferably the best Cognac brandy; the entire strength or weakness may be suited to the general inclination of the company for which it is prepared. The above quantity of fruit, with about three-quarters of a pound of sugar, will make sufficient sherbet for three quarts of punch. Pineapple rum and capillaire syrup, instead of part of the sugar, may be used, if convenient, with considerable advantage to the flavour; though it will prove excellent punch without either of these auxiliaries, or even Seville orange.
The same sort of sherbet may, of course, be used for brandy-punch or rum-punch singly; but punch is seldom so made in England: many persons, indeed, mix equal parts of rum and brandy. Arrack-punch, however, is made with that spirit alone, and usually with a simple sherbet of lime or lemon-juice with sugar, as the flavour of the Seville orange interferes too much with the peculiar flavour of the arrack, which proves so grateful to most tastes, though to many very unpleasant. When with the richest sherbet, sometimes rendered still richer by fruit-jellies, and even nutmeg, wine, instead of water, is mingled with the rum and brandy, the liquid is called Punch Royal. The mixture of a small quantity of ale or porter, highly recommended by some in making punch, seems only advisable when it is rum-punch, made without any brandy, and must, even then, be very sparingly introduced. This article, whatever may appear its value, is furnished, with regard to its principles, by one of the first practical punch-makers in Europe, who could easily, by dwelling on minute circumstances, have supplied matter for a small volume: the essence of which is, however, he freely confesses, here sufficiently concentrated for every useful purpose.
With regard to the salubrity of punch, when drunk in moderation, hot in winter, or cold, and even iced, in summer, it affords a grateful beverage, admirably allaying thirst, promoting the secretions, and conveying animation to the spirits. If, however, amid the hilarity excited by the tempting fragrance and luscious taste, which the balmy bowl seldom fails to inspire, it be too freely drunk, its powerful combination of spirit and acid, instead of proving favourable to the constitution, will tend to bring on the gout, even sooner than sweet wines, unless happily prevented by taking considerable exercise. Punch, like all the prime blessings of life, is excellent and salutary when prudently enjoyed at proper seasons. We must not charge on them our own want of discretion, by which along they are ever converted to evils. The apparently whimsical name of punch, like the liquid itself, is probably of Hindustani origin-the word, in the aboriginal language, signifying simply five, being the number of ingredients there used: viz., 1. Acid, or lime, or lemon-juice; 2. Sweetness or sugar; 3. Spirit or rum, etc.; 4. Water; and 5. Spicy flavour, or nutmeg, etc. It is singular, too, that punch, the word for five, consists of just five letters. From the opposite natures of the ingredients, punch has also been called the liquor of contradictions. PUNCH (a la Franoise). The following is calculated more especially to produce a ladies' punch. Take rather more than two pounds of sugar, and melt it in a large saucepan over the fire, a good half-tumblerful of water or tea being poured over to moisten it, with the juice of two lemons and two oranges. When the sugar is well melted, pour into the saucepan a bottle of rum and a bottle of brandy, and as much tea as is needed to modify its strength. After adding the tea, take care that the punch is sweet enough. Just warm the punch; do not let it boil. Immediately before serving squeeze the juice of half a dozen oranges through a sieve into the mixture.
The whole method rests on one step that most modern drinkers skip: building an oleo-saccharum, the citrus-oil sugar that gives punch its perfume. Get that right and the rest is arithmetic.
- The hinge: rub the sugar on the rindRubbing lumps of loaf sugar against a whole lemon until they clog with the coloured zest draws out the peel oils, which is where nearly all the aroma of a good punch lives. If you use granulated sugar instead, peel the citrus thinly with a swivel peeler, bury the strips in the sugar, and leave them an hour or two before adding any liquid.
- Loaf sugarSugar came in hard cones that were chipped into lumps; the point here is a dry, abrasive surface for scraping zest. Modern sugar cubes work for the rubbing method; caster or granulated does not, and needs the maceration route above.
- Proportions and yieldTwo lemons or limes, one Seville orange and about 12 oz of sugar make sherbet for three quarts of finished punch, roughly 24 small glasses. The spirit quantity is deliberately left open, to be suited, as the text puts it, "to the general inclination of the company for which it is prepared."
- Seville orangesThese are the bitter marmalade oranges, in British shops only for a short midwinter season, usually around January and February. If none are to be had, the recipe says so itself: the punch is excellent without. A strip of grapefruit peel plus a little extra lemon juice approximates the bitter edge.
- Capillaire and pineapple rumCapillaire was a sugar syrup flavoured with maidenhair fern and usually orange-flower water; a rich simple syrup with a few drops of orange-flower water stands in for it. Pineapple rum meant rum in which pineapple had been steeped, easily made at home over a few days.
- ArrackThe arrack meant here is Batavia arrack, a Javanese sugarcane-and-red-rice spirit, not the aniseed arak of the Levant. It is still imported, and it is the defining note in arrack punch specifically; do not substitute anise spirit.
- Count Rumford's riceA tablespoon of rice boiled per quart of water thickens it very slightly with starch, giving the body the text calls "almost equal to jelly." It works, but strain thoroughly through fine muslin or the punch will be cloudy and dull.
- A lawn sieveLawn was a fine linen cloth; the modern equivalent is a fine-mesh strainer lined with muslin or a coffee filter.
- Punch a la Francaise: do not boilWarming a full bottle each of rum and brandy in an open pan drives off alcohol and, more to the point, throws flammable vapour over an open flame. Heat it gently to no more than about 70C in a deep pan away from a naked flame, and add the fresh orange juice off the heat, as instructed, so it keeps its brightness. Two pounds of sugar to two bottles of spirit is very sweet by current taste; start with half and adjust.
The etymology given here is the traditional one, and it is still the usual explanation: panch, five in Hindi and related languages, for the five components of acid, sugar, spirit, water and spice. It is generally traced to English sailors and East India Company employees in seventeenth-century India, though some scholars have argued instead for puncheon, the large cask spirits were shipped in, and the case is not settled. What is certain is that by the eighteenth century punch was the sociable drink of the English-speaking world, made in a bowl for a company rather than a glass for a person, and that the bowl was in decline by the time Cassell's was compiled: the essay's slightly wistful tone, and its appeal to an unnamed authority as "one of the first practical punch-makers in Europe," belong to a period when the ritual was already becoming a thing older men remembered. The closing remarks on gout are a reminder that punch was drunk in quantities that a modern host would find alarming, and that its acid was widely blamed for the consequences.