Whiskey for the Winter
When drinking under difficult conditions, look to the Irish
BY DAVID WONDRICH
One of the history of drink's many delicious little ironies is that Ireland's adoption of Guinness stout as its national beverage could be considered a temperance measure. Before that, the Emerald Isle's drink of choice was a thing called simply whiskey punch. A straightforward mix of whiskey — strong whiskey at that — with sugar, lemon peel, and just enough boiling water to make it hot, it was consumed by the tumblerful morning, noon, and night. From the 1750s, give or take a decade, up until the beginning of the next century, Ireland was literally punch-drunk, and indeed in 1821 King George IV could think of no better way to show his "affection" for his Irish subjects than by, as he pledged, "drinking [their] health in a bumper of whisky-punch." (They might have preferred the right to vote.)
But then came a powerful anti-whiskey movement led by one Father Mathew, and after that the morning glass of lightly lemonized whiskey didn't seem like such a good idea. Far better to have a pint of Guinness "for strength," as the old ads always said. Ask a modern Dublin bartender for a whiskey punch and you'll get a blank look.
And yet, should you find yourself at Kehoe's crowded bar on South Anne Street in the heart of Dublin, you'll notice, among all the pints its patrons are holding, ring-handled glass after ring-handled glass, each containing a steaming, pale-amber liquid with a clove-studded lemon slice floating in it. "That?" says the bartender. "That's a hot whiskey." Which is? "It's just Powers whiskey with a little sugar, boiling water, and a slice of lemon." In other words, whiskey punch.
Nor is Kehoe's unique in this regard: Our informal survey of a dozen or so Irish bartenders, including more than a few pint-and-shot artists who claimed no knowledge whatsoever of mixology, turned up not a single one who didn't know how to make a hot whiskey. It's the oldest trick in the book: Lie low for a while, then change your name and go back to doing what you were doing, only not quite so much of it.
You can't blame the Irish: There are few drinks as instantly delightful as hot Irish whiskey punch. Powers is a rich, full-bodied whiskey, perhaps not as strong as those 200 years ago but a hell of a lot older and mellower. With just a hint of sugar or, sometimes, honey (more for body than for sweetness), an equal portion of boiling water, and as much flavor a slice of lemon and a few cloves will give off without being crushed, mangled, or muddled into the mixture, it makes for a drink so smooth and obliging that you could see having more than one. Many, many more than one.
How to Make Hot Whiskey
• Cut a lemon wheel in half and stud the white pith between the flesh and the peel with 3 or 4 cloves.
• Rinse out a mug or hot-whiskey glass with boiling water to warm it. This is as essential a step with hot drinks as chilling the glass is with cold ones.
• Add 1 tsp demerara sugar or honey and 1 oz or so boiling water.
• Stir until sugar or honey has dissolved.
• Add 2 oz Powers Irish whiskey (Black Bush, Paddy's, and Clontarf single malt are fine substitutes), the lemon slice, and another ounce or so boiling water.
Plus: The Bishop
A rather less intoxicating drink that's practically as delightful and just as historic. (Dickens drank bowls of it.) And warm:
• Wash an orange, stud it with 16 to 18 cloves, put it in a baking dish, and place it in a preheated 350 degree oven.
• Roast until browned, 60 to 90 minutes, and set aside to cool.
• Heat 1 bottle ruby port and 1 cup water to a simmer, stir in 2 oz sugar, a pinch each of grated ginger, freshly grated nutmeg, and allspice.
• Cut the orange into quarters, add it (and any juices that have run out) to the port mixture, stir, and serve in small glasses.
• For a little more bite, add 4 oz cognac.
