Behind the Recipe -- Jeri Quinzio

Friends, Romans -- Have Some Punch

 

 

It’s not Roman and it’s not punch. Yet, for more than half a century, the fruit ice called
“Roman punch” was wildly popular. I think it deserves a return engagement.

Descriptions and recipes for Roman punch are as numerous as the people who made it. Generally, though, it was a lemon or other fruit sorbet mixed with enough alcohol of various kinds and combinations to make it freeze slushy rather than solid. All sorts of liquors were used in making the punch. Rum was nearly ubiquitous, but everything from Chablis to Champagne made an appearance. Roman punch was served as a palate cleanser between courses at elaborate dinners.

In her 19th century etiquette book, Manners and Social Usage, Mary Elizabeth Wilson Sherwood ruled that Roman punch should always be eaten with a spoon. She called it the best “provocative of appetite” and said that coming after the heavy roasts, it “prepares the palate and stomach for the canvas-back ducks and other game. Then comes the salad and cheese, then the ices and sweets, and then cheese savourie or cheese fondu.”

I particularly like the crotchety description of Roman punch from All About Ices, Jellies and Creams written at the turn of the 20th century by two British confectioners, Henry G. Harris and S.P. Borella.  After reporting that “no two confectioners in Britain appear to agree entirely as to its composition,” they wrote:

The most impossible combinations are recommended – rum, brandy, green tea, black tea, cinnamon, nutmeg, pineapple, ginger – in addition to the three really necessary and
harmonious alcoholic items.

According to them, the three necessary and harmonious liquors were Champagne, kirsch, and maraschino.  

In The Complete Confectioner, Pastry-Cook and Baker, published in 1864, the prominent Philadelphia confectioner Eleanor Parkinson called for “a glass or two of each, of rum, brandy, champagne, and Maraschino.” She titled her recipe “Punch à la Romaine – Roman Punch Ice.”

Juliet Corson, in her 1886 book Miss Corson’s Practical American Cookery, distinguished between ordinary Roman punch and a “finer sort.” Ordinary was “a plain fruit-ice to which rum is added, a gill to a quart, and, in serving, a teaspoonful of rum is placed in each glass.” The finer version added meringue to the fruit ice and called for “one glass each of rum and brandy.” Fannie Farmer made her Roman punch with tea and rum.

These days, most of us aren’t having multi-course meals or multi-liquor palate cleansers, but a less elaborate version of Roman punch is a terrific summer dessert. Sarah Rorer’s recipe is so simple it works even if you’re just grilling burgers in the backyard. Feel free to sip or spoon it.

Roman Punch

Make one quart of lemon water ice. When ready to serve, fill it into small punch glasses, make a little well in the centre and fill the space with good Jamaica rum. – Ice Creams, Water Ices, Frozen Puddings Together With Refreshments For All Social Affairs, Sarah Tyson Rorer, 1913.

Last Call for the Highball

“Great balls of fire!”

If that was your reaction the first time you swallowed a shot of rough brandy, you are not alone. Early in the 19th century, the phrase “a ball of fire” referred to a glass of cheap, fiery brandy. The Irish called a glass of whiskey “a ball of malt.” In fact, the tasting room at the Jameson whiskey headquarters in Dublin is called “The Ball of Malt.” As playwright Sean O’Casey put it, “There’s nothing like a ball o’ malt occasional like.”

When the phrase crossed the Atlantic, it became “a ball of whiskey.” Though often fiery, the ball was not necessarily Irish. By the late nineteenth century, a bartender had only to hear the word “ball,” and he knew his customer wanted a glass of whiskey.

If that customer wanted seltzer or plain water added to his whiskey to make a longer drink, he asked for a “high ball.”  That’s what they say in St. Louis where, the story goes, the name was born. It seems the local seltzer was popular, and when a customer asked for seltzer with his ball, the barman used a taller glass. The drink became known as a high ball. (I don’t know why they didn’t call it a “tall ball.”) High ball started out as two separate words. Today, they’re joined.

Not everyone agrees with the St. Louis tale. Some say the drink got its name from a railway signal. A ball raised on a pole indicated that the train was running late and the engineer needed to speed up. According to this theory, the drink was so named because it could be made in a hurry. Actually, a simple shot of whiskey would have been quicker.

Another theory is that the highball was named after balls of ice in the drink. But I don’t believe bartenders were freezing ice into balls at the turn of the 20th century.

In the early years of the century, the highball was as prominent in song and story as in barrooms. Everyone from Dorothy Parker to F. Scott Fitzgerald poured highballs for their characters. When Julian English, the hero of John O’Hara’s Appointment in Samarra, met his downfall, he used a vase to make himself “the biggest highball he had ever seen.”

Sheet music cover for "Friend Highball" lyrics and music by William J. McKenna, 1915.

The word began to fade as the name of a drink as people began ordering drinks by their ingredients, as in “a scotch and soda,” or “rye and ginger,” or “whiskey and seltzer.” As  they became more brand-conscious, they ordered a “Dewars and soda,” or “Canadian Club and ginger,” rather than a plain old highball.

Today, for the most part, a highball is a tall glass, not a specific drink. Even in St. Louis, the ball is over.

Highball 

Another class of mixed drinks, and one which is now very common, is known as highball. The highball in its simplest conception is not a mixed drink at all, except in the mixing of water with the alcoholic beverage. The highball  is served in a tall glass, the whiskey, brandy or gin being first poured into the glass with, usually, a lump of ice, and the glass is then filled with soda water or seltzer or some carbonated beverage.  –   Beverages and Their Adulteration: Origin, Composition, Manufacture, Natural, Artificial, Fermented, Distilled, Alkaloidal and Fruit Juices, Harvey Washington Wiley, 1919.

It's a Cookie. It's a Cake. It's a Super Dessert.

 

Everything old is new again on the Internet. Bloggers and their fans are bringing back recipes for  family favorites and treasured childhood treats. Dishes that have faded from food magazines’ pages are finding their second act in the blogosphere.

Many date back to the days when refrigerator makers were tempting customers to buy the expensive new appliance with refrigerator-reliant recipes. Some have generic names like  “Refrigerator Rolls” or “Refrigerator Cake.” Others, like “Frigidaire Cookies,” are brand-specific.

One of the most ubiquitous and enduring of these refrigerator recipes is for a cake made with cookies and whipped cream. To make it, you spread whipped cream on the cookies, lay them on their side in a row, then frost the log with whipped cream, and chill or freeze it. When it’s time to serve, you slice it diagonally to make the most of the striped effect. You’ve probably had it or made it or, at the very least, heard of it.

Today, most bloggers title it the “Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafer Cake.” But I’ve also seen it called an icebox cake, a refrigerator cake, a zebra cake, and a caterpillar cake among other names.

Mostly it’s still made in a log shape, but New York’s Magnolia Bakery stacks the cookies in a circle to create a round cake. It’s cut in wedges just like a traditional cake.

Some of today’s recipes gild the lily by adding various liqueurs to the whipped cream, puddling chocolate sauce around it, or topping it with fresh strawberries or raspberries. Most say it has to be made with “Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafers.”

However, many old recipes don’t specify the cookie flavor, much less the brand. One suggests using either chocolate or ginger cookies. The earliest and simplest recipe I’ve seen is in a 1938 Frigidaire pamphlet, and is titled “Chocolate Cookie Dessert.” It calls for thin chocolate cookies – no brand specified – whipping cream, and vanilla. That’s it.

Another pamphlet labels it “Silhouette Pudding” and, along with the whipped cream, specifies Nabisco chocolate wafers. Apparently they weren’t yet “Famous.”

A rather unusual version is from America’s Cook Book, published in 1940. In this one, instead of plain  whipped cream there is a combination of condensed milk, jam, and heavy cream. The cookie flavor is not specified. It’s called “Cellophane Refrigerator Cake” because the cookies and cream filling are stacked in their cellophane wrapper, rather than arranged on a dish. All the better to keep them in line.

I’ve used a paper towel tube to store a roll of cookie dough in the freezer, but never thought of using the cellophane. It’s a bit fussy to do, but it works well. I used a five and a quarter ounce package of thin ginger cookies, instead of the chocolate ones. And I sprinkled cookie crumbs over the top for added pizazz. The dish that resulted was surprisingly good and tasted more like cake than cookies.

 

Cellophane Refrigerator Cake

Half-cup sweetened condensed milk
One-quarter cup raspberry or strawberry jam
One tablespoon lemon juice
Half-cup heavy cream, whipped [You’ll need another half-cup to frost the loaf.]
One package cellophane wrapped cookies

Blend milk, jam and lemon juice; fold in whipped cream. Open top of cellophane roll and remove all but bottom cooky. Drop a spoonful of filling on this cooky, add another cooky, pressing it down gently; repeat until all cookies are used. Close top of package tightly and chill in refrigerator 12 hours or longer. To serve: unwrap and cut in diagonal slices; top with additional cream. Yield: 6 portions. – America’s Cook Book, New York Herald Tribune, 1940.