The Other Punch Book

Dan Searing is either the bravest or most unlucky author in the cocktail world at present.

Searing, a Washington D.C. mixologist and partner in the bar Room 11 (and the host of a weekly soiree, begun in 2009, call The Punch Club), has just come out with "The Punch Bowl," a compendium of punch recipes and punch history. This comes about eight months or so after David Wondrich released his "Punch," the first major work in decades (maybe ever) studying the once-popular form of libation. Wondrich's influence in cocktail circles is such that the book's arrival has resulted in high-end cocktail bars across the nation tacking a punch or two onto their cocktail lists. In New York, for example, there were, a couple years ago, maybe three or four places where one could order a traditional punch. Today, there are dozens. There are even a couple (Drink in Williamsburg, Cienfuegos in the East Village) which are devoted almost exclusively to punch.

So what can Searing offer that Wondrich hasn't already provided in his scholarly work? Or, put differently, why would anyone need two books on punch? Well, the books are actually vastly different in character. Searing has basically provided a very attractive recipe book. There are brief sections at the front about the history and proper service of punch, but they are cursory when put next to Wondrich's text. The meat of Searing's book is the formulae for the 75 punches (some modern, but most drawn from ancient cocktail books, including Jerry Thomas') he's chosen to feature. They are easy to follow; a line or two of introduction to Fish House Punch or Spread Eagle Punch or whatever, then straight on to the ingredients and how they're compounded. Searing's volume is also a highly decorative work, full of glossy and attractive color photographs, not only of many of the punches but also of some ancient punch bowls.

In short, "The Punch Bowl" is a book for those civilians out there who simply want to learn to make punch. "Punch" is for the mixologist and cocktailian wonk who desires to learn the subject up and down, and in depth. As I am sometimes one of these people and something the other, I am happy to have both books on my shelf.

A Laid Back Punch Palace for Me Hearties in Williamsburg

To tell you the truth, after this fall, I'm about punched out. Everywhere I've turned this fall, I've been ladled out a crystal cupful of Dickensian liquid or handed a copy of David Wondrich's new book "Punch." The Drink—of which Brooklyn bar I write in the below NY Times item—is the second bar in NYC this year to devote itself to punch (the first being Cienfuego in the East Village). And I mean devote itself, not just put a punch or two on the menu. There are no cocktails at The Drink. Just beer and punch. Of course, they'll make you a Martini if you insist. And I may insist.

Punch Pushes Cocktails Off the Menu at the Drink in Williamsburg

By ROBERT SIMONSON

One of the unavoidable drinking trends of the fall has been punch. Hardly a cocktail bar has opened in New York in the past few months without giving a nod to the crystal bowl. Forty Four at the Royalton Hotel, 1534 on the Lower East Side and SoHo’s Lani Kai have all made room for punch in their programs. But the recently opened The Drink in Williamsburg has so devoted themselves to the format that the flowing bowls have actually knocked individual cocktails off the menu.

Cienfuegos' Rum Punch Bar "Cocteleria" Has Soft Opening Tonight, Opens Thursday

The rum punch bar faction of Cienfuego—the new East Village, Cuban food-and-drink place fostered by downtown cocktail mogul Ravi DeRossi (Mayahuel, Death & Co.)—will have its soft opening Monday night, April 26, working toward an official opening on April 30, manager Miguel Calvo told Off the Presses. It's name: Cocteleria! The Cuban sandwich shop section of the two-floor complex, called Carteles, opened earlier this year at 5 Avenue A, near E. 6th Street.

Rum and Punch: Two Trends for 2010

I was at an industry event for the Guatemalan rum Zacapa, talking over the cocktail scene with a couple collegues. We were discussing how it seemed that, after gin and absinthe and tequila had all recently gotten their moment in the spotlight, it now appeared to be rum's turn. "Yeah," said one man, "I wonder what will be next?" We thought for a moment. "Nothing," another finally said. "Rum's it. It's last. It's the last major liquor category to be rediscovered."

Late last year, the New York Times ran a big feature story on how rum had come of age in America, and was being newly rediscovered by U.S. drinkers and drink makers. The piece focused mainly on west coast places like Martin Cate's Smuggler's Cove in San Francisco and Audrey Saunder's Tar Pit in Los Angeles. But the article's looking pretty prophetic as far as New York is concerned. 2010 is not even two months old and we have already learned that, before spring is over, we well see Painkiller, a new tiki-rum place on the Lower East Side run by Richard Boccato and Giuseppe Gonzalez of Dutch Kills fame; and, as part of the new East Village Cuban restaurant Cienfuegos, two rum bars overseen by mixologist Charlotte Voisey. No longer can anyone say, "Why isn't there a decent rum bar in New York?"

To my mind, part of this gravitation toward rum is an either intentional or subconscious desire to chill out a bit. The cocktail scene can get rather arch sometimes, with it's insistence on the right way of doing things, its ingredient and behavior snobbery and its sometime rococo new cocktail creations. Rum is all about relaxing and taking it easy.

Both of these new bars also seem to tangentially embrace what I feel is another dawning trend of 2010: Punch. Now, I know that a lot of cocktail geeks out there will balk at that statement, saying "Punch was so 2008." True, Death & Co. and Clover Club have been doing punches for a couple years now in New York, and Prime Meats serves a different punch by the glass every day. But the punch thing never really took hold. It was an isolated, intermittent side show, found only in the most fanatical corners of cocktaildom.

This year may change that. One of the rum bars at Cienfuegos will focus on rum punch. And Painkiller is going to have a Scorpion Bowl menu. That would all be fine and good, but the real clincher to this being a punch year is the arrival of David Wondrich's new book on the matter. Wondrich created quite a stir with his last opus, "Imbibe!," basically an exhaustive history of cocktails in 19th-century America. Fans will be waiting anxiously for his next volume. (I don't know what the title is yet, but I'm guessing, maybe, "Punch!").

Wondrich recently gave a little preview on what the book will contain during a well-attended lecture at Pegu Club on Jan. 25. He had just turned in his manuscript two days beforehand.  He talked about the history of the brimming bowl, and made a few sample punches (there's one below), including one made with ambergris, which anyone who has read "Moby Dick" knows is a once-treasured byproduct of sperm whales. Though something in me tells me that punch will be a harder sell to the general public than individual classic cocktails were (it's labor intensive, requires special equipment, and you need to lay out a fair amount of money to make a good-sized bowl), I'm still betting that the book will inspire plenty of bars to start offering punch.

Make Mine With Extra Almonds

When it comes to holiday drinks, everyone knows about egg nog. Everyone knows about hot buttered rum, even if they've never had it. But communicating knowledge of Glögg is a little like showing your hand. It tells people something about you. You're Scandinavian, maybe. Probably from the Midwest.

I plead guilty on both counts. So I was in a good position to write about this classic yuletide punch for Imbibe magazine. I even knew my fair share of Norsemen to turn to for a recipe. (It's not easy to get a Scandinavian to give up their Glögg recipe, in case you didn't now.) The one I found for Imbibe is from Anne Heid, a lovely Finnish woman who is married to my brother-in-law's brother. (You got that?) It came from her mother, so it's authentic. Here's the article and the recipe. Enjoy.

Norse Code
Scandinavians warm up their holidays with Glögg (just don’t ask them how)

By Robert Simonson

Glögg. The guttural syllable doesn’t naturally make you smack your lips, does it? But consider these other liguistic equivalents for the hot beverage know to English-speakers as mulled wine: vin fiert (its name in Romanian); izvar (Moldavia) and grzaniec (Poland). After wrapping your tongue around those consonant sandwiches, “Glögg, please!” rolls out pretty easily.
Glögg (pronounced “glug,” and derived from the verb “to heat up”) is the term used by Nordic people for their favored alcoholic drink of the winter months. You’ll find it in Sweden, Norway, Finland, Denmark and Iceland, and in those parts of the United States where the fair-haired sons and daughters of those countries immigrated. And the time you’re most likely to find a steaming glass of the stuff is during Advent, the six weeks leading up to Christmas.

Glögg’s origins go back a good millennium or so, but most sources have a drink with peculiarly glögg-like touches—such as almonds popped into every glass—appearing in the mid-19th century. Nordstjernan, a Swedish newspaper printed in the U.S., notes that "a relatively recent addition to the Christmas beverage menu, glögg arrived in Sweden from Germany in the 1800s.” Whenever the beverage showed up, it’s a natural for the holidays, as it has three big cheer-inducing elements going for it (beyond its alcoholic content, that is): heat, sweetness and spice. In fact, those are among its few constants. As novelist and noted drink aficionado Kinsley Amis once wrote, “No two recipes for it are more than rather similar.”

The base for glögg is typically red wine, but it can also include white wine, Madeira, brandy, vodka, Port, sherry and, of course, aquavit. You may infuse this mixture with any or all of the following: cinnamon sticks, vanilla beans, cardamom seeds, cloves, orange peel, dried cherries, raisins, almonds, figs, prunes, and fresh ginger. You then sweeten things up. Many lay sugar cubes on a rack over the pot and dissolve the lumps by ladling warm or flaming glögg over them. Others simply light the whole concoction on fire at the end of the process, dousing the flame soon after by covering the pot. This not only makes for a good show, but it adds a toasty flavor component to the punch. Pour the hot stuff in a cup, plunk in a raw almond and maybe some raisins, slide a pepperkaker cookie or piece of gingerbread on the side, and skoal!

If there’s an epicenter of glögg culture in America, it may be Simon’s Tavern, a 75-year-old bar in the once-heavily Swedish Chicago neighborhood of Andersonville. Each winter, owner Scott Martin cooks up 2,000 gallons of homemade glögg, selling it to an endlessly thirsty clientele at $5 a cup. He claims he makes the only commercially available brew in the area that uses all-natural ingredients, with no extracts or artificial flavorings or other industrial shortcuts. He begins with Port wine steeped in yellow raisins, cinnamon sticks, cloves, cardamom seeds, orange peel, almonds and some sugar, set over a flame for two hours. He then adds the remainder of the sugar and simmers it for another hour. After letting the mixture sit overnight, he adds brandy and two secret ingredients he won’t reveal.

Glögg-makers’ reluctance to reveal their tricks is typical. Martin remembers buying Simon’s from the founding Lumberg family in 1994. “When we signed the contract, they put a paragraph in there saying there never will be allowed arcade games in Simon’s,” he says. “I thought I’d play a game with him. I said, ‘I’ll agree with that if you give me your dad’s glögg recipe.’ With a nod and a wink, he handwrote the worst glögg recipe I’ve ever seen in my life. He was doing it on purpose. No good Swede gives away their recipe.”

So what, then, is the secret ingredient to making good glögg? Martin doesn’t hesitate with his answer: “Love,” he says.

Holiday Glögg

This recipe was handed down to Simonson’s friend, Anne Heid, from her Finnish mother. She says that since the wine is heavily flavored during the mulling process, it’s not necessary to splurge on boutique bottles—she usually uses an inexpensive Burgundy. She also suggests using a slow cooker to simmer the mixture, and says she sometimes adds 2 cups of vodka to the mixture during the simmering stage to give her glögg an extra kick.

1 gallon dry red wine
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1 Tbsp. Angostura bitters
6 whole cardamom, crushed
5 whole cloves
1 inch fresh ginger, peeled
1 cinnamon stick
peel of 1 orange
2 cups raisins
2 cups slivered almonds

Mix together wine, sugar, spices and orange peel in a non-reactive container and let stand overnight (or a minimum of eight hours). Strain mixture into pot or slow cooker and simmer until warm, stirring. To serve, add a few raisins and almonds into each small cup or mug before ladling in the warm wine mixture.