Whether its Mother’s Day, or graduation, or Memorial Day, or just a darn good day for a party, many occasions for serving a group of people drinks are coming up. Make it easy for yourself and pick up a punch bowl and punch it up. That is, if you don’t have a punch bowl already, but maybe you do? I was on the radio (you kids might not remember such) once, on a call in show, talking about having two punch bowls, one fancy, one not, and a caller called in to say they had eleven punch bowls! Eleven! Now, that person knows how to party. Not saying you need eleven, but one or two, yes. And then, you can make this punch in one of them. It sounds like a Shakespeare character, and admittedly hearkens back in a way back-a-ways, with a hearty red wine base (like a Cabernet or other robust red wine) mingling with some juice (grape, here), and sweetened with some simple syrup. But then! We are also adding mysterious French herbal liqueur Bénédictine, and a heaping helping of brandy, plus club soda (which helps lighten it up, and make it okay for brunching as well as later affairs). The first item in that list really gives this punch an intriguing personality, and one that is sure to make your late April, May, and June events memorable (as well as events in the other nine months, to be clear). Punch it!
1. Add the block of ice to a large punch bowl, or fill the bowl halfway full with ice cubes. Add the brandy, grape juice, Benedictine, and simple syrup. Stir well.
2. Add the red wine to the cast, and stir again.
3. Smoothly add the club soda, and stir a final time (or maybe a few final times—you want to get it good and combined). And a handful or two fresh red seedless grapes, if you want. Sometimes I feel the grapes, sometimes I don’t. I’m weird. Serve in punch glasses. Or with straws.
Though we’re well past Valentine’s Day, really, if you’re a perfect paramour or partner, you should be showing the love every day, right? Right! And what’s the best way to show the love? Making that favorite person of yours a dandy cocktail, perhaps one a bit sweet to show you think they’re the sweetest? Too much? Well, it makes for an interesting intro idea to this cocktail, which isn’t overly sweet, mind-you, thanks to the bountiful base of brandy (the most under-utilized base spirit). One top of which are two other dancing partners that might be a stitch sweet, but also deliver lovely (!!) flavors: Navan vanilla liqueur and the Italian charmer Dumante Verdenoce pistachio liqueur. Those three alone play together quite cozily, but adding an egg white, as we do here, gives a wonderful silky mouthfeel (as they say), one that’ll have you and yours canoodling happily any day of the year as you sip it.
Well, it’s already deep into the winter holiday season, and I haven’t yet put up a sparkly drink suggestion for your holiday gatherings, because I am lazy, or busy, or some combination of the two? Either/or, you may still need a special sparkler to make your holiday party stand out from the party pack, or to enthrall your relatives with, or to just make yourself because you deserve a nice shiny drink at the end of the year, I think you do! For all of those occasions, let me present How Silver-Sweet, a treat this time (or any time) of year. It uses Castello del Poggio sparkling Moscato, which is light on its feet, featuring pretty fruit notes, including peach, pear, and strawberry, swirling about the sparkly bubbles. It’s a wee sweet (in the best way), and goes delightfully here with Strawberry brandy (a true fruit brandy is what you want, dry, crisp, no additives), Pierre Ferrand’s lush orange curaçao, and a dash of earthy Peychaud’s bitters. It’s bound to make the holidays even more jolly.
How Silver-Sweet
Cracked ice
1 ounce strawberry brandy
1/2 ounce Pierre Ferrand orange curaçao
1 dash Peychaud’s bitters
3-1/2 ounces Castello del Poggio sparkling moscato
1. Fill a cocktail shaker or mixing glass halfway full with cracked ice. Add the brandy, curaçao, and bitters. Stir well.
2. Strain into a wine glass (or flute). Top with the moscato. Stir briefly.
It’s nearly the 31st of October, or Warlockoween, the day (or/and the weekend before depending on what day of the week the 31st falls on) when everyone follows along with the below video, drinking their Warlock (the mystical mix of brandy, Strega, limoncello, orange juice, and Peychaud’s bitters that has been favored by magicians, sorcerers, conjurors, witches, and the like for thousands of years) and then turning into zombie spell-casters. Fun! Watch and learn and fall under its spell. A spell also good on something called Halloween, which hasn’t taken off yet like Warlockoween, but hey, it could.
I’ve had a few Cyril Hare Cocktail Talks on the Spiked Punch in the past, as I’ve slowly been filling out my collection of his books. If you don’t know (and you should, as he should be more well-known today), he was an early-to-mid last century English writer, as well as a barrister and judge (the latter under his real name of Alfred Alexander Gordon Clark). He was perhaps mainly known for his books featuring Francis Pettigrew, a not-super-successful barrister who tends to helps solve the mysteries via an intriguing point of law or two – Hare also wrote other mysteries, with the same precise language and plots combined with local color that I like. Good stuff! Tragedy at Law was the first, thought weirdly I hadn’t read it until recently. Many call it the best mystery set in the legal world, and it could be, at that. Not all over-the-top as some modern books, but well-paced, keeping you thinking, and at the same time learning about the British judicial system at the time, in a way that’s never dry – except for the dry wit! And a little brandy anxiety.
For the Shaver was not laughing with the others. More, he was not listening. He was sitting glumly regarding the tablecloth and from time to time helping himself to another liqueur brandy from the bottle which had somehow become anchored at his elbow. Characteristically, Pettigrew’s first anxiety was for the brandy. “There’s not too much of that ‘Seventy-Five left,” he reflected. “I must remember to tell the Wine Committee at the next meeting. Of course, we’ll never be able to get any more as good as that, but we must do the best we can . . .”
Well, what can you say about Charlie Dickens that hasn’t already been said – much of it in the highly-regarded biography Charles Dickens: A Life by Claire Tomalin, which I’ve been reading, and which is very well done, very researched, very well-written, and very in-depth. Reading biographies isn’t always my thing, I’d rather usually just read the work, but I’m a fairly decent Dickens-head (heck, read all the Charles Dickens Cocktail Talks to see), and had just visited the awesome Charles Dickens Museum in London, so thought I’d take the bio plunge. And I’m glad I did! But also a bit sad, because the more you learn, sometimes it’s too much. And though it’s a great bio book, she didn’t mention the greatest of all Dickens characters, Diogenes the dog, so that was a big black mark. But balanced by the below quote, where she’s talking about Dickens the party thrower, parties which certainly seem ones I would have enjoyed, and where Fortnum was involved (I’m a big Fortnum & Mason fan as well as a Dickens fan).
Accounts of his entertaining there, over which he sometimes presided in a velvet smoking coat, suggest that there was a high consumption of iced gin punch and hot brandy punch, much smoking of cigars, and delicious food brought in from Fortnum’s – pickled salmon, pigeon pie, cold meats, and hot asparagus – oysters from Maiden Lane and sometimes a baked leg of mutton stuffed with veal and oysters, a dish of his own invention.
My filling out of my Maigret collection continues! Wait, you say, you aren’t sure what I mean? I can’t believe you aren’t joking. You’re joking. Well, just in case, I mean specifically the Inspector Maigret novels and stories by writer Georges Simenon, starring the taciturn (at times) and methodical (until the mood hits) Parisian police commissaire. Please check out past Maigret Cocktail Talks to learn more, if you haven’t already. In my latest pickup, Maigret not only leaves his normal Paris stomping grounds, but leaves France altogether (the book name may give this away) for Holland, where a French citizen is involved in a murder case in a small Dutch town. As he doesn’t speak the language, and isn’t an official local cop, the case provides some wrinkles for our tall Inspector. But he still manages to find a café and a hotel bar for some mid-case sipping. And to teach the locals what drinking is all about.
“You won’t refuse a little glass of brandy, will you? They have some good stuff here.”
“If you don’t mind, it’s my turn now,” said Maigret, in a tone that tolerated no opposition. “Only, since I don’t speak Dutch, I must ask you to order it for me. A bottle of brandy and some glasses.”
Pijpekamp meekly interpreted.
“Those glasses won’t do,” Maigret said when Madame Van Hasselt came bustling up.
He got up and went himself to get some bigger ones. Placing them on the table, he filled them right up to the rim.
“A toast for you, gentlemen,” he said gravely. “The Dutch police!”
“The stuff was so strong it brought tears to Pijpekamp’s eyes. But Maigret, with a smile on his face, gave no quarter. Again and again her raised his glass, repeating:
“Your health, Monsieur Pijpekamp! . . . To the Dutch police!”
For our last dally (for now, at least) into Anthony Trollope’s novel The Prime Minister, we’re ending with two of the (in my opinion, ‘natch) great characters in Trollope’s oeuvre, and perhaps in English fiction itself, Plantagenet Palliser and Glencora Palliser, his wife (Lord and Lady and then Duke and Duchess if you’re feeling formal). Their marriage and early days kick off the whole Palliser series of novels, and they surface here and there throughout the series, sometimes as bit parts, sometimes more supporting, sometimes starring. Which means it’s only fitting we end with a little brandy banter between them (don’t, of course, miss the earlier The Prime Minister Cocktail Talks, part I, part II, and part III, to learn more about the book, and for that matter, why not spend some with all the Anthony Trollope Cocktail Talks – you’ll have fun. Promise)!
“If you ask me, Plantagenet, you know I shall tell the truth.”
“Then tell the truth.”
“After drinking brandy so long I hardly think that 12s. claret will agree with my stomach. You ask for the truth, and there it is,—very plainly.”
“Plain enough!”
“You asked, you know.”
“And I am glad to have been told, even though that which you tell me is not pleasant hearing. When a man has been drinking too much brandy, it may be well that he should be put on a course of 12s. claret.”
