Start your holiday season with a very Philly — and very boozy — Thanksgiving punch

As hard as I try, and as many years as I’ve cooked Thanksgiving dinner — going on two decades now — I am inevitably still in the kitchen weeds when the doorbell rings and my guests arrive.

“Hey, Bro ... I’m thirsty! What are we drinking?” my brother says like clockwork, eagerly drifting toward my shelf of whiskeys. My sister-in-law and her mom prefer sweet East India Solera sherry. My wife wants some riesling. I’ve got hard cider chilling for my daughter, who loves that it’s gluten-free. Tequila for my son. And me? Well, I could definitely use a stiff drink, too, but I’ve got too many things still cooking to pause for a relaxing break to welcome, toast, and linger with guests before dinner.

So this year, I’m doing punch. It’s easy to prepare a day in advance. Guests can serve themselves. The deceptive potency of a good punch will also soften the mood — and buy the host time.

Few things could be more Philadelphian than punch. Our thriving colonial-era ports were regular stops for ships like the Bacchus, which, on May 17, 1774, according to the Philadelphia Gazette, docked at Hamilton’s wharf with rum from Jamaica, no doubt ready to compete with the Grenadan rum that landed at Dock Street two days later. There were fruits and citrus sailing in from Europe and the Caribbean to blend with those spirits — and a thirsty populace to partake of what Imibe! author David Wondrich calls the “Flowing Bowl.” It’s no wonder, according to historian Peter Thompson, that Philadelphia’s taverns are where “the link between rum punch and revolution was forged.”

This is also the home of Fish House Punch, created in 1732 at the exclusive and secretive club State in Schuylkill, where legend says George Washington went on a three-day bender. The classic recipe and its multiple variations have endured locally. So, we decided to create another updated version for 2023, leaning into our thriving local craft spirits scene.

For this, I turned to a celebrated newcomer to Philly’s bar scene, Toby Maloney, the James Beard Foundation award-winning coauthor of The Bartender’s Manifesto (Clarkson Potter, 2022), owner of Chicago’s Violet Hour and Mother’s Ruin bars, and bartender in residence at Hop Sing Laundromat in Chinatown, where he’s been slinging three-course “cocktail omakase” sessions for $75 between work on his next book.

“A good drink should engage the head and heart in all five senses,” he says. “The sound of something stirred or shaken, the aromas of the cocktail before you, the beauty of the garnish, the texture and mouthfeel of the cocktail, too.”

Those details are perhaps more easily controlled in individual cocktails. But Maloney has handy tips for engaging multiple senses with a punch bowl, too, from the clever practical trick of making a beautiful giant ice cube ring from a Bundt pan (which chills the punch with minimal dilution) to the simple visual elegance of lemon rings floating like lily pads. The final touch, a dusting of fresh nutmeg grated atop each cup, fills the air with a sweet whiff of trade winds spice every time you lean in for a sip.

Modifications to the recipe are potentially limitless once you understand the basic template for punch, which balances two kinds of spirit — usually brandy and rum — with citrus for sourness, pineapple juice, and black tea for tannic structure and balance. And then there is the oleo-saccharum, a citrus syrup made from steeping orange and lemon peels overnight in sugar. The oleo is the ethereal force in the punch bowl mix, intensifying the fruits’ essence into an evocative perfume that fills the room with the aroma of a citrus grove.

“That’s the magic part of the punch. It’s not just flavor, it’s brightness,” says Maloney. “You try to bring as many summery things to your punch as possible, and all this orange-lemon oil is like a little ray of sunshine.”

There are peach preserves in Maloney’s punch, too, adding both sweetness and an element of stone fruit that’s a local specialty. The choice to use apple brandy instead of traditional cognac was another move in that regard. New Jersey-founded Laird’s, America’s oldest licensed distillery, whose applejack was favored by Washington’s troops, is now made in Virginia but remains a solid value pick ($20.90, 750 ml for the blended jack, about $10 more for the straight brandy). However, the more artisanal choice made from Pennsylvania fruit by Pottstown’s Manatawny Still Works ($58, 750 ml) brought a much deeper, natural apple savor.

Maloney favors Vigo Amaro ($32.29, 750 ml) from Philadelphia Distilling for a bittersweet dark kiss of botanicals (cola, nutmeg, and cinnamon) but says other common bitters can also work (such as classic Angostura), so long as it doesn’t have overpowering eucalyptus flavors.

The only decision that remained was the rum.

Maloney suggests a barrel-aged (“but not super dark”) rum along the lines of Plantation five-year-old from Barbados ($25.99, 750 ml, at Total Wine in Cherry Hill). But Philadelphia now also has several locally connected rums to consider, including Tenango ($50, 750 ml), a brand owned and imported by El Merkury chef-owner Sofia Deleon from her native Guatemala. There’s also Ron Filadelfiano from Strivers’ Row ($35 750 ml), Philly’s first Latinx-owned distillery, a tiny craft operation in the Harrowgate section of North Philadelphia, where Dominican-born Francisco Garcia turns Lancaster molasses into amber art.

They’re both worthy spirits, but the Strivers’ Row, just a year old despite its rich copper color due to aging in small barrels, retains a flicker of rambunctious young heat that cut best through the punch’s complex brew. But it’s hardly a loss. Tenango’s six-year-old beauty is considerably more rounded, with mellow tones of coffee, nuts, fruit and cacao. So once the punch bowl is scooped clean, the feast is complete, and I can finally relax, I’ll be sipping a snifter of Tenango on its own.

Toby Maloney’s Philly Peach House Punch

Serves 8-10

10 lemons (6 peeled for oleo-saccharum, 8 juiced, and 2 left whole with skin intact for garnish)

2 cups apple brandy (Manatawny Still Works or Laird’s straight brandy), but cognac is also a classic choice

2 cups aged rum (Striver’s Row Ron Filadelfiano or Tenango Guatemalan rum; or Plantation 5-year-old)

2 cups lemon juice

2 cups orange-lemon oleo-saccharum (see recipe below)

4 cups pineapple juice (fresh, if possible)

4 cups Lady Grey tea (3 tea bags) or peach tea, or Constant Comment

2 jars Bonne Maman peach preserves

4 oz. Vago amaro from Philadelphia Distilling (or Angostura bitters or any amaro that does not have a menthol note)

Nutmeg to garnish

For oleo-saccharum

2 oranges, peeled

6 lemons, peeled

2 cups brown sugar

Day before:

Make the oleo-saccharum. Peel 2 oranges and 6 lemons, avoiding too much of the white pith, and toss swaths of citrus peels with 2 cups of brown sugar, or sugar in the raw. Save fruit for juicing.

If you have a Bundt pan, fill it three-quarters of the way with water and freeze. Use two or three plastic quart containers if no Bundt pan available.

Day of:

Heat 4 cups of water and steep 3 bags of tea for 15 minutes. Whisk oleo-saccharum (peels and all) into hot tea. Whisk in peach preserves and incorporate. Strain and put in the refrigerator to cool.

Juice 2 cups of lemon juice (about 8 lemons, depending on size). Fresh juice is of the utmost importance. Do not substitute for a shelf-stable version.

In a large bowl, combine the ingredients. Add the large format ice, gently. Garnish with thinly sliced lemon rounds.

To serve:

Ladle into cups and grate nutmeg with a microplane over the top.