Milk Punch

I came across this awesome recipe for Milk Punch on the Massachusetts Historical Society website. The recipe, which dates back to 1763, is from Ben Franklin himself! Check it out:

source

If you can't read his beautiful script, here is the transcription:

To make Milk Punch

Take 6 quarts of Brandy, and the Rinds
of 44 Lemons pared very thin; Steep the 
Rinds in the Brandy 24 hours; then strain 
it off. Put to it 4 Quarts of Water, 
4 large Nutmegs grated, 2 quarts of 
Lemon Juice, 2 pound of double refined 
Sugar. When the Sugar is dissolv'd, 
boil 3 Quarts of Milk and put to the rest 
hot as you take it off the Fire, and stir 
it about. Let it stand two Hours; then 
run it thro' a Jelly-bag till it is clear; 
then bottle it off. --

Wow, Ben, that sounds intense! 

I pondered making this incredibly interesting sounding punch, but the idea of peeling the rinds of 44 lemons made me reconsider. Plus, I don't own a Jelly-bag. In fact, what is a Jelly-bag? Anyone? So I decided instead to find an easier, smaller-batch version under the same name but more feasible for someone that doesn't want to buy six quarts of brandy.

Here's the updated recipe:

2 oz bourbon whiskey

3 oz half-and-half

1 tsp superfine sugar

1/4 tsp vanilla extract

1/4 tsp grated nutmeg

source

The verdict: Milk Punch is good. It's yummy and creamy and oh so decadent. I think this is the kind of drink that one should sip in front of a roaring fireplace, wrapped in red flannel, so I'll stash this recipe until late Fall or Winter. You should try it then too!

Happy adventuring!

Absinthe

Recently, my friend Mandy of Married up with Wine inspired me to get back into the blog game. She's made a mark in the blog world and encouraged me to continue with A Pot in Time, which was once a true passion of mine. So here we go--jumping back into the strange and delicious world of food and drink.

For my first post back, I'm going to talk about absinthe--a beverage that completely fulfills the "strange and delicious" aspects of this blog. My first experience with absinthe was in Prague when I watched my stepdad drink it. At this point it was illegal pretty much everywhere except the Czech Republic. For some reason, absinthe terrified me--it was a completely mysterious beverage that I believed would send me down the rabbit hole if I so much as smelled it. So I instead of trying it for myself, I sat, watched, and waited for my stepdad to see the Green Fairy, who never showed. (The bartender later told us that it would take about twelve shots of the stuff to start experiencing the symptoms that writers and artists like Pablo Picasso, Vincent Van Gogh, and Ernest Hemingway supposedly experienced while drinking the bohemian liquid.)

After some time passed and absinthe became legal in the states, I decided to give it a try at Jose Garces' bar and restaurant Village Whiskey in Philadelphia. The bar specializes in vintage cocktails, liquors and prohibition-style ingredients like house made bitters and creme de violette. I was impressed with the set up--absinthe spoons, cubes of sugar, a slow ice-water drip over the glasses. It was all very intriguing.

After waiting a considerable amount of time for the sugar to melt and watching the bright green liquid become a murky, foggy yellow, the absinthe was ready to drink. The flavor was bright, like sweet fennel and star anise, and cold yet warm like most strong alcohol. It was good and I enjoyed the whole process, but upon finishing my glass, the mystery and allure faded slightly. I'm sure when the brilliant struggling artists were getting sloshed at the Lapin Agile in Paris around the turn of the 20th century it was all far more grande. Maybe next time I'll pair the bottle with a type writer or paint brush and see what happens.

Have you tried absinthe? What did you think?

Happy adventuring!

Krupnik Polski

A few years ago I took a trip to Poland where I was introduced to a whole new culinary world. Of course, I ordered the popular pierogie--although this time it was covered in what was translated as "lard droppings"--as well as cold beet soup and traditional borscht. In addition to the delicious meals, I was introduced to vodka. Yes, vodka--and its many preparations. For instance, one night after finishing dinner at a local restaurant, the waiter brought over complimentary cherry vodka shots (as if they were after-dinner mints). Then, the next night, I was served a hot vodka tea, which was quite shocking (I'm an Earl Grey girl, myself).

A few months ago, I was reminded of my trip to Poland during the Pulaski day parade, where Polish families flooded the streets to celebrate in the name of Kazimierz Pulaski, who was a Polish soldier that emigrated to Philadelphia to help in the American Revolutionary War. (Eventually, because of his efforts in the war, Pulaski became known as Father of the American Cavalry.") Seeing all of the Polish-American citizens celebrating in the streets inspired me to post a Polish recipe. Since I found it so shocking before, I decided to look for something similar to the vodka tea I tasted in Poland. What I found is called Krupnik Polski, or Polish Honey Vodka. It is as follows:

1-1/2 cup honey
2/3 cup water
1 tsp. vanilla extract or 1 vanilla bean
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
8 sticks cinnamon
2 whole cloves
3 strips lemon peel
1 bottle vodka

Combine honey with the water, vanilla, spices and the lemon peel in a large saucepan. Bring this to a boil cover, and simmer for about 5 min. Add vodka, remove from the heat serve hot or cold.

The verdict: First of all, let me say that I cut this recipe in half. Unless you are Kazimierz Pulaski and have an entire calvary to serve, you don't need an entire bottle of vodka. Secondly, I'll admit to you that although I was introduced to vodka in Poland and have fond memories of the experience, I don't really like it. But, if I were to drink vodka, this would be the way. Krupnik Polski is super sweet and spicy--perfect for a cold winter day. Since it can be served hot or cold, I chose to drink it warm like the tea I had in Poland. It reminded me very much of the beverage. Lastly, let me recommend this drink only to those who will be staying in for the rest of the night. Although it’s sweetened and spiced, it is essentially a glass of vodka. Be responsible!

Happy adventuring!

Maryland Mint Phosphate

Whenever I have visitors in Philadelphia I like to show them the little historic tricks and treats of the city. This past weekend, when my mother and stepfather came to visit, one of those historic treats included a Maryland Mint Phosphate at the Franklin Fountain in Old City. I first learned about the Maryland Mint Phosphate (a retro soda) in a guide book for the city of Philadelphia. At first, I was drawn to the Maryland Mint Phosphate purely because of the name--I am a Baltimore girl, after all--and then, it was the florescent green color of the liquid pictured on the glossy page. So when I visited the Franklin Fountain and noticed that there was no Maryland Mint Phosphate on the menu, my heart sank. "Do you possibly know how to make a Maryland Mint Phosphate?" I asked, hopefully. The girl behind the counter stared at me blankly. Then, to my sheer delight, a young soda jerk by the name of Jeff stepped up and said that he remembered the recipe. Thanks, Jeff!

The Maryland Mint Phosphate (pictured here with a chocolate soda) is a mixture of Creme de Menthe and ginger flavored soda water with a little phosphoric acid for pizzazz. 

The verdict: I am not a soda drinker, so the Maryland Mint Phosphate came as a bit of a shock to my system. In fact, the phosphoric acid felt just plain strange going down my throat. Having said that, I can see why people would have fun with these beverages. The Franklin Fountain has a ton of different combinations to make your own soda or you can order pre-designed phosphates like the Japanese Thirst Killer Phosphate, which includes grape juice and Angostura Bitters. If you have a retro soda fountain nearby, maybe you should give it a shot. I know that I'll be going back for more.

Happy adventuring!

Lamb's Wool

It's time for a drink!


Hot beer seems like it should be on a culinary nightmare list but I couldn't pass by this quaintly-named beverage, Lamb's Wool. Lamb’s Wool is a hot punch that is said to have originated in the Middle Ages in England but maintained popularity through Victorian times. The drink was traditionally served at harvest time or at Christmas as a “wassailing” (caroling) punch.  In her book, “Food and Cooking in Victorian England,” Andrea Broomfield describes the popular beverage as enjoyed in the Victorian era:

“Those who retained old-fashioned tastes such as Charles Dickens…enjoyed a wassail punch based on ale or cider that was heated until it formed a foamy, creamy head. Sometimes, the foam was called “lamb’s wool.” While the ale and/or cider were heating, fresh grated nutmeg, ground cinnamon, whole cloves, lemon slices, and finally, hot roasted crabapples were added to the punch” (154).

She goes on to describe that there were several traditions associated with the punch. For example, farmers would make the drink on Christmas Eve and toast to their apple trees, as a way of giving thanks. Another tradition involves the apple tree being “wassailed” by pouring the beverage around the roots of the tree and then bowing and singing around it in order to secure a good harvest the following year.

Today, Lamb’s Wool is not as frequently made, but there are still plenty of recipes floating around if you want to give it a shot and taste a bit of history. Now I will be making a version of Lamb’s Wool to celebrate the harvest that can easily be replicated. If you want to make the drink too, here is a simple recipe to follow:

Gather about four apples, cinnamon, nutmeg, a few whole cloves, ginger, brown sugar, and about six pints of dark ale. Cut the tops off of the apples and bake them at 400 degrees F until soft. Then, scoop out the soft insides and set aside. Warm the ale and the spices (about a half teaspoon or to taste) with about a third cup of brown sugar. Then add the apple pulp to the mixture. Serve in big mugs with a spoon.

Fresh apples, tops removed

Cooked apples!

Mixing beer with spices and sugar

Does this resemble lamb's wool?

The finished beverage

The verdict: I think the most important thing to remember with this recipe is to season to taste--if you want more cinnamon, sugar, or ginger, then add more! This is definitely a cold weather drink. It took me a few seconds to get used to the hot beer taste, but I can understand why people used to make this as a holiday drink. Drinking Lamb's Wool makes me wish that I had an apple tree to "wassail" with this brew!


Happy adventuring!