I am prepared to lay a shade of odds on the “op” against the “off.”
Another old recipe has been quoted in some of my earlier public efforts, under different names. I have improved considerably upon the proportion of the ingredients, and now hand the whole back, under the name of
Halo Punch.
With a quarter pound of loaf sugar rub off the outer rind of one lemon and two Seville oranges. Put rind and sugar into a large punch-bowl with the juice and pulp, mix the sugar well with the juice and one teacupful of boiling water, and stir till cold. Add half-a-pint of pine-apple syrup, one pint of strong green tea, a claret-glassful of maraschino, a smaller glassful of noyeau, half-a-pint of white rum, one pint of brandy, and one bottle of champagne. Strain and serve, having, if necessary, added more sugar.
Note well the proportions. This is the same beverage which some Cleveland friends of mine, having read the recipe, thought boiling would improve. The result was—well, a considerable amount of chaos.
Glasgow Punch.
The following is from Peter’s Letters to his Kinsfolk, and is from the pen of John Gibson Lockhart:—
The sugar being melted with a little cold water, the artist squeezed about a dozen lemons through a wooden strainer, and then poured in water enough almost to fill the bowl. In this state the liquor goes by the name of sherbet, and a few of the connoisseurs in his immediate neighbourhood were requested to give their opinion of it—for in the mixing of the sherbet lies, according to the Glasgow creed, at least one-half of the whole battle. This being approved of by an audible smack from the lips of the umpires, the rum was added to the beverage, I suppose, in something about the proportion from one to seven.
Does this mean one of sherbet and seven of rum, or the converse?
Last of all, the maker cut a few limes, and running each section rapidly round the rim of his bowl, squeezed in enough of this more delicate acid to flavour the whole composition. In this consists the true tour-de-maitre of the punch-maker.