AMERICAN DRINKS.
Cobblers—Cocktails—Flips, etc.—Punch—Varieties—A Bar Tender—Anstey’s Pleader’s Guide—A Yard of Flannel—Bottled Velvet—Rumfustian, etc.
The great authority, probably the greatest authority, on this interesting subject is a gentleman who, with the true modesty of genius, allows himself to be known only by the pseudonym of Jerry Thomas. Formerly a bar-tender at the Metropolitan Hotel, New York, and the Planter’s House, St. Louis, he is said to have travelled over Europe and America in “search of all that is recondite in this branch of the spirit art.” His very name, says one of his admirers, is synonymous in the lexicon of mixed drinks with all that is rare and original.
Among the chief American drinks are, being alphabetically arranged, cobblers, cocktails, cups, flips, juleps, mulls, nectars, neguses, noggs, punches—of which there are at least three score—sangarees, shrubs, slings, smashes, and toddies.[97]
The cobbler is an American invention, though now common in other countries. It requires small skill in its composition, but should be arranged to please the eye. Of this drink the straw is the leading characteristic.
The cocktail is a comparatively modern discovery. In this drink Bogart’s Bitters occupies invariably a prominent place. The Crusta is an improvement on the cocktail, and is said to have been invented by Santina, a celebrated Spanish caterer. Its differentia is a small quantity of lemon juice and a little lump of ice. The paring of a lemon must also line the glass, from which feature it probably derives its name.
Flip has been immortalised by Dibdin as the favourite beverage of sailors, though it has been asserted that they seldom drink it; a somewhat hazardous statement, unless limited to the times in which there is none to be had. The essential feature in a flip is repeated pouring between two vessels, supposed to produce smoothness in the drink. The Slang Dictionary holds flip to be synonymous with Flannel, the old term for gin and beer drunk hot with nutmeg, sugar, etc., a play on the old name lamb’s wool. The anecdote of Goldsmith drinking flannel in a night-house with George Parker, Ned Shuter, and the demure, grave-looking gentleman, is well known.
MINT JULEP.
The julep is especially popular in the Southern States, and is said to have been introduced into England by Captain Marryatt. That romance-writing seaman in his work on America, says: “I must descant a little upon the mint julep, as it is, with the thermometer at 100°, one of the most delightful and insinuating potations that ever was invented, and may be drunk with equal satisfaction when the thermometer is as low as 70°. There are many varieties, such as those composed of Claret, Madeira, etc., but the ingredients of the real mint julep are as follows. I learned how to make them, and succeeded pretty well.” Then follows the receipt:—
“Put into a tumbler about a dozen sprigs of the tender shoots of mint, upon them put a spoonful of white sugar, and equal proportions of peach and common brandy so as to fill it up one-third, or perhaps a little less. Then take rasped or pounded ice and fill up the tumbler. Epicures rub the lips of the tumbler with a piece of fresh pine apple, and the tumbler itself is very often incrusted outside with stalactites of ice. As the ice melts, you drink.”
“I once,” says the marine author of this receipt, of which the reader has ipsissima verba, “I once overheard two ladies talking in the next room to me, and one of them said, ‘Well, if I have a weakness for any one thing, it is for a mint julep!’”
This weakness of the American lady was, in the opinion of the Metropolitan Hotel barman in New York, very amiable, and proved, not only her good taste, but her good sense.
In mulls, which may be made of any kind of wine, the essential feature is the boiling. Sugar and spice, of which the nursery song tells us little girls are manufactured, are also invariably used in mulls. We give a rhymed receipt for mulled wine, not for the sake of the poetry, which is indifferent, but for that of the cookery, which is not bad.
“First, my dear madam, you must take
Nine eggs, which carefully you’ll break,
Into a bowl you’ll drop the white,
The yolks into another by it.”
Here the poet was evidently hard pressed for a rhyme.
“Let Betsy beat the whites with switch,
Till they appear quite frothed and rich;
Another hand the yolks must beat
With sugar, which will make them sweet.”
An ordinary effect of sugar. Poet probably hard pressed as before.
“Three or four spoonfuls maybe’ll do,
Though some perhaps would take but two.
Into a skillet next you’ll pour
A bottle of good wine, or more;
Put half a pint of water, too,
Or it may prove too strong for you.”
This is personal, nay more, it might to some good people be offensive, as indicating deficiency of cerebral power or endurance.
“And while the eggs by two are beating,
The wine and water may be heating;
But when it comes to boiling heat,
The yolks and whites together beat
With half a pint of water more,
Mixing them well, then gently pour
Into the skillet with the wine,
And stir it briskly all the time.”
Poet again hard pressed.
“Then pour it off into a pitcher,
Grate nutmeg in to make it richer,
Then drink it hot, for he’s a fool
Who lets such precious liquor cool.”
Of nectar we have no information worth the reader’s acceptance. It appears to be applied indifferently to any dulcet drink.
Negus may be made of any sweet wine, but is commonly composed of Port. “It is,” says Jerry Thomas, “a most refreshing and elegant beverage, particularly for those who do not take punch or grog after supper.”
Egg-nogg, of which other noggs seem to be the lineal descendants, though a beverage of American origin, has “a popularity that is cosmopolitan. In the South of the United States it is almost indispensable at Christmas time, and at the North it is a favourite at all seasons.” In Scotland the beverage is called “auld man’s milk.” The presence of the egg constitutes the differentia in this drink. Every well-ordered bar has a tin egg-nogg “shaker,” which is a great aid in mixing. The historian will be glad to learn that it was General Harrison’s favourite beverage, and the consumptive and debilitated person that it is full of nourishment.
“A CROWN BOWL OF PUNCH.”
Punch[98] is remarkable for its variety. It is considered necessary by the adept to rub the sugar on the rind of the citron or lemon, to extract properly what the experienced drinker calls “the ambrosial essence.” The extraction of the ambrosial essence, and the making the mixture sweet and strong, using tea instead of water, and thoroughly amalgamating all the compounds, so that the taste of neither the bitter, the sweet, the spirit, nor the element shall be perceptible one over the other, is the grand secret of making punch. And to this, as to other learning, there is no royal road. It must, alas! be laboriously acquired by practice. Many are the mysteries of its concoction. For instance, it is essential in making hot punch that you put in the spirits before the water; in cold punch the other way. The precise portions of spirit and water, or even of the acidity and sweetness, can have no general rule. To attempt offering one would only mislead. A certain inspiration must animate the artist. It has been asserted that no two persons make this drink alike. This remark is admirable, and might probably be applied not only to punch, but to every drink that has yet been composed.
It has been said that of punches there are at least threescore. Here follow a few of the many varieties: Brandy, Sherry, Gin, Whiskey, Port, Sauterne, Claret, Missisippi, Vanilla, Pine Apple, Orgeat, Curaçoa, Roman, Glasgow, Milk, and Regent’s, brewed by George IV.; St. Charles’, Louisiana, Sugar House, La Patria, Spread Eagle, Imperial, Rochester, and Rocky Mountain; Non-Such, Philadelphia, Fish-House, Canadian, Tip-Top, Bimbo, Nuremburgh, Ruby, Royal, Century Club, Duke of Norfolk, Uncle Toby, and Gothic.
People have immortalised themselves by the invention of punches to which a grateful country has attached their names. Of these famous ones are General Ford, for many years commanding engineer at Dover; Dr. Shelton Mackenzie, of Glasgow; D’Orsay; and M. Grassot, the eminent French comedian of the Palais Royal, who communicated his receipt to Mr. Howard Paul, the equally eminent entertainer, when performing in Paris.
Last, though not least, the military have thus distinguished themselves by the National Guard, the 7th Regiment Punch, the 69th Regiment Punch, the 32nd Regiment or Victoria Punch, and the Light Guard Punch.
The sangaree, originally a West Indian drink, is as unsatisfactory in its explanation as in its etymology. It seems, indeed, to be little more than spirit and water, with sugar and nutmeg to taste. It very nearly approaches, if it is not identical with, toddy.[99]
Shrubs[100] are unsatisfactory, like sangarees. They seem to have no distinctive or differentiating feature. The most common kinds are Rum, Brandy, Cherry, and Currant.
Slings are very closely related to toddies. Their difference is, indeed, infinitesimal, so far as we are able to learn.[101]
Of the smash, even Jerry Thomas speaks slightingly. He says, “This beverage is simply a julep on a small plan.” It, however, can boast of three species—gin, brandy, and whiskey, and for all a small bar-glass must be used. It is usual, though not apparently essential, to lay two small pieces of orange on the top, and to ornament with the berries of the season.
Toddy is the Hindustani tári tádi, or juice of the palmyra and cocoa-nut. Tar is the Hindustani word for a palm. It is the name given by Europeans to the sweet liquors produced by puncturing the spathes or stems of certain palms. In the West Indies toddy is obtained from the trunk of the Attalea cohune, a native of the Isthmus of Panama. In South-Eastern Asia the palms from which it is collected are the gomuti, cocoa-nut, palmyra, date, and the kittul (Caryota urens). When newly drawn the liquor is clear, and in taste resembles malt. In a very short time it becomes turbid, whitish, and sub-acid, quickly running into the various stages of fermentation, and acquiring an intoxicating quality.
In our use of the word, toddy seems to mean nothing more than spirit and water sweetened, with the occasional addition of lemon peel. Whiskey toddy is the common and favourite species, though there are also apple, gin, and brandy toddies. Toddy differs from grog in being always made with boiling water, but this distinction is not universally maintained, nor, indeed, used by the best authors. Whiskey is probably the “vulgar” kind alluded to by Anstey in his Pleader’s Guide, Lect. 7.
“First count’s for that with divers jugs,
To wit, twelve pots, twelve cups, twelve mugs,
Of certain vulgar drink called toddy,
Said Gull did sluice said Gudgeon’s body.”
The names of American drinks form an amusing study. Passing over the well known sleepers, sifters, flosters, knickerbockers, ching-chings, Alabama fog-cutters and thunderbolt cocktails, the lightning smashes and eye-openers of Connecticut, the corpse revivers, the Mother Shiptons and the Maiden’s Prayers, we propose to give a list of some of the most remarkable titles, with receipts added, to satisfy the appetite of any who care to compound them.
A Yard of Flannel.
A yard of flannel, otherwise called egg flip.—Boil a quart of ale in a tinned saucepan. Beat up yolks of four with the whites of two eggs. Add four tablespoonfuls of brown sugar and a soupçon of nutmeg. Pour on this by degrees the hot ale, taking care to prevent mixture from curdling. Pour back and forward repeatedly, raising the hand as high as possible. This produces the frothing and smoothness essential to the goodness of the drink. It is called a yard of flannel from its fleecy appearance.
White Tiger’s Milk
(à la Thomas Dunn English, Esq.).
Half a gill apple jack, ½ gill peach brandy, ½ teaspoonful aromatic tincture,[102] white of an egg well beaten. Sweeten with white sugar to taste. Pour the mixture into 1 quart of milk, stir well, and sprinkle with nutmeg. This receipt will make a quart of the compound.
Bottled Velvet
(à la Sir John Bayley).
A bottle of Moselle, ½ a pint of sherry, small quantity of lemon peel, 2 tablespoonfuls of sugar. Well mix, add a sprig of verbena, strain, and ice.
Stone Fence.
One wine glass of whiskey (Bourbon), 2 small lumps of ice. Use large bar-glass, and fill up with sweet cider.
Sleeper.
To a gill of old rum add 1 ounce of sugar, 2 yolks of eggs, and the juice of half a lemon. Boil ½ a pint of water with 6 cloves, 6 coriander seeds, and a bit of cinnamon. Whisk all together, and strain into a tumbler.
Rumfustian.
Whisk yolks of a dozen eggs, and put into a quart of beer and a pint of gin. Put a bottle of sherry into a saucepan, with a stick of cinnamon, a grated nutmeg, a dozen lumps of sugar, and the thin rind of a lemon. When the wine boils, pour it on gin and beer, and drink hot.
Bimbo Punch.
Steep in 1 quart cognac brandy 6 lemons, cut in thin slices, for six hours. Then remove lemon without squeezing. Dissolve 1 pound loaf sugar in 1 quart boiling water, and add this hot solution to the cognac. Let it cool.
Bishop.
Stick an orange full of cloves, and roast it. When brown, cut it in quarters, and pour over it 1 quart of hot port. Add sugar to taste, and let mixture simmer for half an hour.
Archbishop.
The same as Bishop, with substitution of best claret for port.
Cardinal.
The same as Archbishop, with substitution of champagne for claret.
Pope.
The same as Cardinal, with substitution of Burgundy for champagne.
Locomotive.
Put 2 yolks of eggs into a goblet with 1 oz. of honey, a little essence of cloves, and a liqueur glass of Curaçoa; add 1 pint of high Burgundy made hot, whisk together, and serve hot in glasses.
Pousse l’Amour.
Fill a small wineglass half full of maraschino, then put in yolk of 1 egg; in this pour vanilla cordial, and dash the surface with cognac.
Blue Blazer
(use two large silver-plated mugs with handles).
One wine glass Scotch whiskey, 1 ditto boiling water. Mix whiskey and water in one mug; ignite, and, while blazing, pour from one mug to the other. Sweeten to taste, and serve in a bar tumbler, with a piece of lemon peel. Blue Blazer is really nothing more than ordinary whiskey and water.
Black Stripe.
Into a small bar-glass pour 1 wine glass of Santa Cruz rum and 1 tablespoonful of molasses; cool with shaved ice, or fill up with boiling water, according to season. Grate nutmeg on top. This is ordinary rum and water.
The following appeared in Moonshine, and may fitly conclude our chapter on American drinks, for which the verdant English youth has paid to the cunning dispenser so many nimble ninepences:—
“Thou art thirsty, Amaryllis; say to what dost thou incline?
Wilt thou toy with amber bubbles at the Fons Burtonis brink?
Shall I crown the crystal goblet with the flashing Rhenish wine?
Or it may be thou would’st wish for an American long drink?
Shall I brew a Flash of Lightning or a Bourbon Whiskey-skin?
Or a Saratoga Brace-up? Sweetest, you have but to say.
Nay, perhaps a Bottle Cocktail would your kind approval win?
Or a Santa Cruz Rum Daisy will be something in your way?
I can recommend a Morning-Glory Cocktail to your taste
And a Corker or a Nerver there are few who will despise;
Tom and Jerry offers pleasures it were folly rank to waste;
In a Nectar for the dog-days sweet Elysian rapture lies.
Be not silent, Amaryllis, name your poison, whatsoe’er
You’ve a mind for, be it Thunder, Locomotive, or Egg Nogg.
I have all ingredients handy, and I reckon I’m all there
When the question’s on the tapis as to what shall be the grog.”
AN AMERICAN BAR-TENDER.
