Logan R. Brouse, proprietor and mixologist of Logan’s Punch, has run bars and clubs in Shanghai for over six years. In between hangovers, he puts pen to paper in his column for That's to record his pontifications on the drink industry.
When you own a punch bar, it helps to know a little bit about the subject. And luckily for me, it’s one that’s rich with history, booze and some full-frontal nudity. As with everything, it all starts with a word: punch. Originally from the Sanskrit paunch meaning five, the word makes reference to punch’s five core ingredients: water, citrus, spice, sugar, and most importantly, spirit.
As with every good drinking story, some of the facts are hazy and muddled, but what we do know is that punch was brought to England from officers and sailors of the British East India Company. Says booze oracle David Wondrich in his awesome book Punch, documents from the 1630s describe bowls made with arrack, wine – basically any spirits they could get their hands on – and drunk in punch houses. Yes, entire bars dedicated to punch. Ring a bell?
William Hogarth, The Orgie at the Rose Tavern, 1735
Now this is where it gets cool, because the implication is that punch was out and about before coffee was popular or really even a thing. Before the world had cafés where 20 somethings could work on their novels, 17th century punch houses served the same way, in that guys could sit around working on their declarations of independence.
These were large taverns or salons where our forefathers, including George Washington, would spend the day getting blasted in a judgment-free zone.
These were the social places to be in the powdered wig times of ye olden days, and it wasn’t until those boring temperance people started getting in the way of the good times that coffee replaced punch as the socially acceptable beverage of choice at 10am. Alas, it went from punch time to Starbucks time.
Not one to be beaten down, the noble tradition of punch drinking went on to play a particularly illustrious part of American history, recounts Vice writer John Surico:
“In March of 1829, Andrew Jackson rode into office as a man of the people — the first American president not born into wealth — and, as a token of his good faith, he opened the doors of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue to those people after his inauguration. This was a big mistake, as anyone who has ever thrown a “bring whoever, it's a rager” party can attest. By the end of the evening, his supporters were said to be so rowdy that they had to literally be lured outside to the White House lawn with bowls of whisky punch and ice cream. Jackson himself escaped his fans through a window or side entrance, leaving behind – though reports of the extent vary — drunken brawls, muddied furniture, and broken china.”
Aside from demonstrating the obvious hazards of open-invite parties, this anecdote brings to light the true beauty of punch: its intrinsically communal nature.
Sitting with a group of friends getting hammered, sharing the same bowl – isn’t this what drinking should be about? Community-style imbibing brings an inclusiveness that, frankly, modern cocktails are lacking.
Now, punch has always been hardcore, but since I’m an American I’ll give you the classic American punch recipe, beloved by Washington, Franklin and whoever else could raise a toast freedom and French fries. I give you, the Fish House Punch (a recipe which I’ve tried my best to tinker with and aspire to perfect.)
Logan's Fish House Punch
Serves four-six people
*Oleo Saccharum
½ Cup Fresh Lemon Juice
2 Cups Jamaican Rum
1 Cup Cognac
2 Cups Black Tea
2 Cups Water
1 Cup Peach Brandy
*Oleo saccharum means 'sugar oil' in latin and is the best thing ever to add to a cocktail that demands sugar and citrus. Basically peel either one orange or lemon (I prefer lemon), being careful not to get the pith. Take the lemon peels and in a container cover them with sugar, muddle vigorously until the lemon and sugar are well mixed. Cover and leave for a minimum of 45 minutes and a maximum of 24 hours. Lick the muddler. When you remove the cover and take out the peels, oleo saccharum should be staring back at you, oily, citrusy and delicious.
Add the oleo saccharum with the other ingredients in a large bowl and try to let sit for at least 20 minutes, though overnight would be awesome. Add the biggest block of ice you can find (or make your own by filling a gatorade bottle full of water and freezing it.) Garnish with lemon slices and enjoy the rest of the night as it goes boozily by in a oleo saccharum hinted tint of absolute pleasure.
See more of Logan R. Brouse's columns here.
0 User Comments