Excerpt from “Dancing Dan’s Christmas,” from Blue Plate Special, by Damon Runyon, 1931

Now one time it comes on Christmas, and in fact it is the evening before Christmas, and I am in Good Time Charley Bernstein’s little speakeasy in West Forth-seventh Street, wishing Charley a Merry Christmas and having a few hot Tom and Jerrys with him.

This hot Tom and Jerry is an old-time drink that is once used by one and all in this country to celebrate Christmas with, and in fact it is once so popular that many people think Christmas is invented only to furnish an excuse for hot Tom and Jerry, although of course this is by no means true.

But anybody will tell you that there is nothing that brings out the true holiday spirit like hot Tom and Jerry, and I hear that since Tom and Jerry goes out of style in the United States, the holiday spirit is never quite the same.

The reason hot Tom and Jerry goes out of style is because it is necessary to use rum and one thing and another in making Tom and Jerry, and naturally when rum becomes illegal in this country Tom and Jerry is also against the law, because rum is something that is very hard to get around town these days.

For a while some people try making hot Tom and Jerry without putting rum in it, but somehow it never has the same old holiday spirit, so nearly everybody finally gives up in disgust, and this is not surprising, as making Tom and Jerry is by no means child’s play. In fact, it takes quite an expert to make good Tom and Jerry, and in the days when it is not illegal a good hot Tom and Jerry maker commands good wages and many friends.

Now of course Good Time Charley and I are not using rum in the Tom and Jerry we are making, as we do not wish to do anything illegal. What we are using is rye whisky that Good Time Charley gets on a doctor’s prescription from a drug store, as we are personally drinking this hot Tom and Jerry and naturally we are not foolish enough to use any of Good Time Charley’s own rye in it.

The prescription for the rye whisky comes from old Doc Moggs, who prescribes it for Good Time Charley’s rheumatism in case Charley happens to get any rheumatism, as Doc Moggs says there is nothing better for rheumatism than rye whisky, especially if it is made up in a hot Tom and Jerry. In fact, old Doc Moggs comes around and has a few seidels of hot Tom and Jerry with us for his own rheumatism.

He comes around during the afternoon, for Good Time Charley and I start making this Tom and Jerry early in the day, so as to be sure to have enough to last us over Christmas, and it is now along toward six o’clock, and our holiday spirit is practically one hundred per cent.

Yes, I’ve done the Tom & Jerry before, but in the spirit of the season — and in consideration of the gazillions of people googling for this right now — I wanted to dig out this great Runyon passage that I feeble-mindedly half-remembered last year, and share it with … well, with regular visitors and casual googlers alike.

Tom & Jerry, for a crowd

Batter:

• 12 eggs, separated
• 1 pound sugar
• 2 ounces aged rum (Appleton V/X, Bacardi 8 and Havana Club Anejo work well, along with many others)
• 1/2 tsp ground cloves
• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1/2 tsp ground allspice (or 1 oz pimento dram)

Beat the egg yolks until thin, and gradually whisk in the sugar. Add the rum & spices. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites until stiff and fold into the yolk mixture until well mixed.

For each drink, put 2 ounces of batter into a toddy mug (you may want to scale that back if using a smaller mug or coffee cup). Add 1 ounce each of brandy and aged rum (or bourbon, or rye, a la Good Time Charley) and fill mug with equal parts hot milk and boiling water. Top with grated nutmeg.

For those keeping score, this is a different recipe than the Audrey Saunders version from last year. Open a dozen cocktail manuals and you’ll find as many different variations on the Tom & Jerry. That’s okay — the punch is easily customized, and the above version is in the direction my personal taste is currently taking me.

Like it sweeter? More sugar. Spicier? Ramp up the allspice and cloves. Richer? More milk, less water. Boozier? You can figure that out. You’ve found the right recipe when it tastes good to you and your guests, and when it leaves your holiday spirit practically one hundred per cent.

Happy Holidays to all–

Tags: Bourbon, Brandy, Drinks, Rum, Rye by Paul
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It’s easy to think of this old chestnut of a drink as a lazy man’s eggnog — I do, in a fashion. But this relic from mixology’s mesozoic era has enough of its own character to deserve attention and respect, especially at this time of year.

Now, I’m sure there are a number of people who read the headline and then moved on, grimacing at the thought of mixing the stuff your mom was always making you drink with the stuff she was always trying to keep you from drinking. That’s a definite mistake (one I was guilty of making myself for way too long). With a nice, aged spirit and a touch of sugar (and some vanilla, if your tastebuds trend that way), milk makes a silky, soothing base for this gentle, warming concoction. In New Orleans, you’re likely to encounter this as a morning beverage — what a beautiful idea — and while typically served cold, you can certainly warm up your milk punch to take the edge off a winter day.

The milk punch is classically made with brandy and / or rum, but bourbon also does a fine job, and is a favorite among many aficionados. Short of using Campari or soy milk (sorry, vegan lushes), it’s hard to screw up a milk punch (like your mother, the milk punch is very forgiving). And if you’ve made yourself some homemade pimento dram (or have a bottle from Jamaica lying around), a dash or two in the mixing glass gives the punch a warming, spicy smoothness that’s especially welcome six days before Christmas, when you’ve still got two weeks worth of shopping to do and no opening in your schedule in which to do it.

Milk Punch

• 1 ounce brandy*
• 1 ounce dark rum*
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 2 dashes vanilla extract (optional)
• 2 dashes pimento dram (optional)
• 4-6 ounces whole milk, to taste (I suppose you could use 2% in a pinch, but you’ll be missing out on the punch’s full effect)

Stir with ice and strain over crushed ice into a large goblet. Sprinkle with nutmeg. (Or, mix the booze, sugar and flavoring in a mug and fill with hot milk. Do the nutmeg thing if desired.)

* Bourbon may be substituted for the brandy & rum. Or, brandy may be substituted for the rum, rum for the brandy, or whatever other option you may consider.

Tags: Bourbon, Brandy, Drinks, Pimento Dram, Rum by Paul
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“Temperate temperance is best. Intemperate temperance injures the cause of temperance, while temperate temperance helps it in its fight against intemperate intemperance. Fanatics will never learn that, though it be written in letters of gold across the sky.”
–Mark Twain, 1896

In case you haven’t wandered anywhere near a booze blog in the past couple of weeks, today is the anniversary of the official repeal of the 18th amendment, the demise of which gave Americans the right to enjoy a tipple or two for the first time in 13 years. Those years weren’t quite “dry” of course — google “speakeasy” and you’ll see what I mean — but for the first time in a generation, an American of appropriate age could once again step into the local to hoist a pint or a pour of their favorite alcoholic libation. Over the course of Prohibition, countless lives were damaged or destroyed by sub-standard booze, over-zealous prosecutors and criminal organizations, while otherwise upstanding citizens found themselves regularly flouting the law in order to enjoy a glass of beer or a touch of whiskey when the mood struck. The “Noble Experiment” was one hell of a mess.

So whose bright idea was this catastrophe, anyway? Fingers can be pointed in a lot of different directions, but one especially deserving group is the Women’s Christian Temperance Union. The W.C.T.U. dates to 1874 (and yes, they’re still around), and took as their primary mission the elimination of all alcoholic beverages. Under the leadership of Frances Willard, the W.C.T.U. mobilized communities throughout the country to ban the sale and consumption of alcohol, culminating in the passage of the 18th amendment. At its peak, the group had hundreds of thousands of members (though the W.C.T.U. were, ahem, selective — no Catholics, Jews, African Americans or women born outside of North America were admitted), and Willard was considered the most famous woman in the world after Queen Victoria (there’s still a statue of her in Statuary Hall in the U.S. Capitol).

Repeal, no doubt, was a setback to the organization, but it still exists today. They’re still thumping the tub for the drys, but to expand their message and keep them contemporary, the W.C.T.U. also campaigns on more modern causes including abortion and gay marriage (I’ll let you guess which side they come down on).

This repeal day, I’m lifting a glass in memory of the thankfully brief time that this group of pathologically obsessive busybodies managed to dictate the manner in which responsible adults can behave. The drink is adapted from Crosby Gaige’s Cocktail Guide and Ladies’ Companion, from 1941, a time when Americans were still unwinding from the long, dark era.

W.C.T.U. (”Much too good for them,” writes Gaige)

• 1 1/4 ounce brandy
• 1 1/4 ounce dry vermouth
• 2 dashes Angostura bitters
• 2 dashes orange bitters

Stir with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Thanks to Jeffrey Morgenthaler for alerting me to Repeal Day activities — given the weight Dewar’s is throwing into the party, and the number of drink blogs it’s showing up on, today should be a grand, grand day.

(And while I normally recoil at the whole viral marketing thing, this Repeal Day ad from Dewar’s is actually pretty damn funny)

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Vermouth by Paul
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A long time ago, I lamented the fact that there weren’t many cocktails that called for limoncello as an ingredient. After a few rounds of experimentation I moved on to other things, but still, from time to time, I’d glance at the bottle of limoncello in my freezer and wish I could do something with it beyond simply enjoying the occasional chilled shot.

Call this wish fulfillment. I first tried this drink last week, at a newish Seattle lounge called Licorous (and which actually isn’t all that new, but since it took me several months to actually drag myself over there, it was new to me). Licorous’ cocktails have generated a lot of local attention, partially because of its pairings menu: an $8.50 drink is transformed into a $10.50 experience when a small, pre-selected appetizer is served alongside. Considering that the lounge is adjacent to and closely related to Lark, Jonathan Sundstrom’s acclaimed small-plate restaurant, the paired tidbits are blow-me-away ventures of the fois-gras-bon-bon and Armandino-Batali’s-oregano-salumi persuasion, and the bar similarly sets its mark high.

The Renaissance is a Robert Hess original, and is one of the best uses of limoncello in a cocktail since … well, maybe ever, at least in my experience. The brandy and the vermouth give it a nice, lush base, and the touch of limoncello spiked with bitters lend a mildly sweet, fruity perfume.

While Licorous prepares the cocktail using one of its house-made bitters, Robert says the drink was crafted with Fee’s Peach Bitters in mind. Having tried it both ways, I’ve found I prefer the brightness of the peach / lemon interplay, but if you haven’t got peach bitters on hand, I’d suggest taking a crack at this with a couple of dashes of orange bitters. It’ll be a slightly different drink, but still mighty tasty.

Renaissance

• 2 oz. brandy
• 1 1/3 oz. sweet vermouth
• 1/3 oz. limoncello
• 2 dashes Fee’s Peach Bitters (or try orange bitters, if you don’t have peach)

Stir with ice and strain into a chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon twist.

Tags: Brandy, Drinks, Establishments, Vermouth by Paul
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I’ve gnashed my teeth before about the escalating prices of vintage cocktail manuals on eBay and online bookstores, but even books currently in print can take a toll, in terms of both finances and time. Case in point: Ted Haigh’s modern classic, Vintage Spirits & Forgotten Cocktails.

Granted, the price tag is only $15.99 (cheaper if you buy it at Amazon or another big bookseller), which is certainly reasonable. But you have to take the other costs into consideration: in the two years that I’ve owned the book, Doc’s recipes and entreaties about ingredients have led me to drop no small amount of cash on bottles of Parfait Amour, apricot brandy and Lillet blanc; prompted numerous experiments with pomegranate juice in pursuit of the one, true grenadine; made it so I can’t venture into a grocery store without swinging down the jams and syrups aisle in search of the elusive Smucker’s raspberry syrup, Doc’s recommended brand; and created a low, keening longing for the unattainable Swedish Punsch, a desire that only became more acute after Murray managed to obtain a couple of bottles at Zig Zag last summer and proceeded to make me fall head over heels for Haigh’s eponymous cocktail.

Two years later, I’m still shelling it out. Latest purchase: a bottle of Rose’s Kola Tonic. As with the Parfait Amour, Haigh calls for Kola Tonic in exactly one of the cocktails in his book; of course, you’ll never find anything smaller than a 750 ml bottle, so now I’m the proud owner of 3/4 of a liter (minus a 1/2 ounce) of this weird, kind-of-but-not-entirely cola-tasting syrup, which I had to have shipped from Los Angeles.

Mixed in a Filmograph Cocktail, the syrup creates a flavor that’s hard to pin down. I’d like to say it compares to the deep, funky roundness of a good cola, but that’s not quite it; the aroma of cola is there, but in flavor, the brandy and especially the lemon juice shove it aside. It’s not unpleasant, just a bit odd. Next round, I’ll try racheting back the lemon juice a bit, so the acidity will stop getting in the tonic’s way.

While my inner cheapskate makes me groan about the expense, the Kola Tonic really is quite a bargain (less than $20, including shipping), as compared to other cocktail ingredients. Now if I could just find the damn Swedish Punsch….

Filmograph Cocktail

• 2 ounces brandy
• 3/4 ounce fresh lemon juice
• 1/2 ounce Kola Tonic

Shake with ice and strain into chilled cocktail glass. Garnish with a lemon wedge.

Tags: Books, Brandy, Drinks by Paul
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