Making fun of the West Midlands accent has a long history. James Boswell, writing in his Life of Johnson, describes how his subject’s Lichfield accent was mocked: “Garrick [the actor] sometimes used to take him off, squeezing a lemon into a punch bowl … looking round the company, and calling out, ‘Who’s for Poonsh?’” Poor Johnson! Still, at least he could take refuge in the contents of the punch bowl.
His dictionary defines punch as “a liquor made by mixing spirit with water, sugar and the juice of lemons and formerly with spice” – which is as good a description as any. He also gets the etymology right. The word punch is derived from “panch”, meaning five in Marathi or, as Johnson puts it: “an Indian word expressing the number of ingredients”. Punch would have originally been concocted to disguise the taste of the rough local spirit.
Nowadays, most are made with rum or brandy, but you can put anything you like in a punch so long as it contains the magic five ingredients: something sweet, something sour, some spice, some water and, of course, some booze. Avoid the kind of thing I drank at teenage birthday parties: lurid red concoctions lightly fortified with Woodpecker cider. A punch should show off the generosity of the host. It shouldn’t be too alcoholic, however. The idea is that you can happily sip it all day.
Samuel Johnson’s era, the late 18th century, was the heyday of this drink. People would hold punch parties. They would have been served in magnificent, specially designed bowls of porcelain or silver and drunk out of matching cups.
Dickens was a another great literary punch lover. David Wondrich, author of a history of punch, writes that “Dickens always made punch for friends ... whenever he entertained, it was part of his ritual.” Wondrich’s book contains an elaborate recipe for a “punch from its golden age” based on Dickens’ instructions with a few modern modifications. It involves making a special pineapple-infused rum beforehand and then, for the pièce de résistance, the whole thing is set on fire. Crikey!
Almost as dramatic was a punch I had recently at the St Pancras Hotel made by Joe Stokoe, an award-winning barman. He used cider brandy instead of the usual cognac, combined with cherry brandy, Cointreau, orange and lemon sherbet, and fresh citrus fruit. The ingredients are poured over ice in a vast silver punch bowl and then topped up just before serving with a whole bottle of champagne. Everyone marvelled as the bowl frothed, and then rushed forward for a cupful.
There should be a sense of theatre about a good punch. It’s a great way to entertain. Just don’t invite snarky actors like Garrick.
