“We lost good men that day. To both death and desertion. But not to blame them, for that was my greatest folly.” The old captain sat at a large round table bespeckled in amber candlelight shifting his weight to a slow creek from his wooden chair. Weathered by the indomitable sea and corpulent in rum he regaled his guests with tales of adventure. Cuba, Panama, Maracaibo; everyone in the tavern had heard them all growing more hyperbolic with each retelling but grounded in undeniable truth. For some among them had either sailed alongside the captain or having read the salacious pages of Alexandre Exquemelin.
Swigging at their tin cups of rum mixed with lime, sugar and spice they listened in awe to all the old tales, but tonight it was Cartagena on his mind. The captain went on, “Don’t mistake, the Satisfaction, a fine vessel she was. But the Oxford, the Oxford…” he paused wistfully, “she keeps the bounty of Cartagena in her belly at the bottom of the sea!” Three times he ventured back to recover her cargo, thwarted each time by the vengeance of the Spanish fleet or the vengeance of mother, mother ocean. Now he found himself with a new charge as lieutenant governor of Jamaica and with no reason but for pride to dream of the prize he captured that day so many years ago. For the old captain lived in peaceful comfort now dining on cured pork belly, the fairer pleasures of the island and, of course, rum.
“How about another bowl of punch for my audience.” The captain bellowed to the barkeep.
“What is this fine concoction we imbibe in tonight, my lord?” One of the guests inquired. “These fruits are exquisite though they do little in masking the real fruit of the island, this jamaican rum!” He guffawed.
To which the good captain explained, “You all should know that I have traded the life of privateering for that of a planter’s. Sugar is as good as gold, and a replanted stalk of cane a true buried treasure.”
“So,” another guest exclaimed, “let us raise this Planter’s punch then in honor of our host.” And they all gave an exuberant toast, “to Sir Henry Morgan! To Captain Morgan!”
Ladies and Gentleman, guys and dolls. Of all the rhythms in the Caribbean there is one cadence that not only drives the beat, but the essence, the economy, the fantasia, and historical significance of an entire region.
One of sour, Two of sweet., three of strong, Four of weak.
Welcome to Pod Tiki. This week we dissect the cocktail from which all Tiki drinks evolved. The promethean Planter’s Punch.
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A pirate and a gentleman. The two not only mutually inclusive but at times indistinguishable. Especially so to the Tiano and Arawak people indegenious to the lush mountainous island country just south of Cuba. That is, until an Italian explorer commissioned by the Spanish King Ferdinand II and Queen Isabella, “discovered” the eminent island. In time Jamaica would become a fecund agricultural boon, a colonial chess piece, and in the 17th century coastal city of Port Royal a veritable pirate playground. A den of debauchery, a depot of depravity, a domicile of... well, you get the picture. And what common accoutrement of pirate lore fueled these denizens of the deep? (Sorry, I had to squeeze one more in.) Well, if the title and context clues haven’t tipped you off, it’s rum.
By the time Captain Sir Henry Morgan’s exploits as a buccaneer, I’m sorry, privateer earned him the role as Lieutenant Governor of Jamaica the island was already one of the new world’s leading producers of sugarcane. Decades earlier a mad dash to acquire as much fertile territory in the West Indies as greedy little monarch fingers could clutch gave new meaning to the term “sugar rush”. And when it was discovered in the brilliant very first case of rumgenuity that a byproduct of the sugar refinement process known as molasses could be fermented into a spirit; at that point the rest is quite literally history.
If Rock N Roll spawned from the early Blues musicians of the American south then Jamaica is the Elvis Presley of the rum world. Perhaps it’s the native terroir, rich soil, exotic spices, and high-grade ganja wafting in palm frond humidity. Perhaps it’s the proprietary methods of the old world style of pot-still distillation. Or, it could be the addition of extra blackstrap molasses added during maturation that gives Jamaican rum it’s signature “funky” flavor profile unlike any other rum in the world. Think, roasted molasses. Sweet with a hint of char and that bit of something.. you just can’t figure it out… but it’s... funky.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves though. Some say the word punch is a derivation of the small puncheon barrel from which sailors would receive rum rations. But there is a more likely culprit. Whereas hitherto our journey through cocktailia has ensphered American prohibition this tale introduces us to a new antagonist. My friends, I give you the British East India Company. For the sake of brevity we’re not going to get too deep into the Company as it was commonly known in the 17th century but dial in on one particular word; panch, the Hindustani term for five. You see, the English working in India would wind down their hard spent days of colonization, appropriating natural resources, and carving a path to China by mixing up a bowl of what they called Paunch, from five ingredients. Usually tea, water, sugar, lemon, and arrack; a liquor distillate of palm sap. In 1632 we saw the first British use of the term Punch. This would have been made with mulled wine or brandy. We can thank, (or blame depending on your point of view), the East India Company for introducing some of these prolific drinking habits to the colonists who would inhabit the new world. Or was the idea of mixing rum with local fruits and spices forged of regional necessity. Either way by 1655 punch had made its way to the forefront of social drinking culture in the Carribean.
Concoctions of alcohol, water, and sugar known as slings were already popular across Europe, Asia, and the Americas, but what set punch aside was rather than a jigger of this and a dash of that punch was served in large shareable bowls. Punch bowls were given as gifts to monarchs, used in christening new ships, and served as the center of the meeting table for everyone from distinguished gentlemen to the common working class. Even your garden variety scalawag would splurge on a bowl of Caribbean punch after a good raid.
From Panama City through the Caribbean and up to Massachusetts as rum was spreading across the new world so was piracy. The sacking of enemy ships on any side made acquisition of the prefered brandy and wines tenuous at best, but there was this new rum climbing the ranks of intemperance. Viewed initially as an alternative to better liquors rum distillers eventually honed in on taming the essence of this wild spirit. No place was this more apparent than among the avarice of the Caribbean.
Being widely agreed upon as the birthplace of what we think of as modern rum it is not surprising that Barbados holds claim to inventing the famous rhapsodic recipe for their Bajan Punch. From 1694 we have an example of 2 parts rum, 1 parts water, sugar, and lemon juice - sprinkled with cinnamon, clove, nutmeg - and dashed with bitters then being “frisked to effervescence with a stick!” I don’t know about you all but I feel like we need a lot more effervescent frisking in our lives. Indigenious fruits like pineapple and orange often made it in and lime eventually undermined lemon as the standard cocktail citrus. We don’t know who officially distilled the recipe into song, but in this 1 of sour, 2 of sweet, 3 of strong, 4 of weak was born the basis for what we would all come to think of as the tropical drink.
As colonialism spread, Port Royal sank, revolutions came and went, the golden age of piracy rose and fell and now here we are. You didn’t think we were going to be able to do an episode of Pod Tiki without coming across Prohibition, did you? Initially rum punch fell out of fashion, giving way to Manhattans and Old Fashioneds and the lot. There were a few revival stories like that of the Planter’s Hotel in St. Louis that claim to have invented the eponymous cocktail, but I think it’s invariably obvious where the name originated. A Planter was actually the term given to the owner or head of the sugar plantations and not the enslaved men doing the work. It’s serves self evident that planter’s punch was aptly named for the version of it being served on and around the plantations of the colonial West Indies.
And it came to pass, as it often does in our journey, that while our predecessors weathered the 18th amendment some took to rediscovering the indulgences of the Caribbean. Which brings us to the Myrtle Hotel, Kingston, JA circa 1920’s where a guest notes the house recipe as pure Jamaican rum, cane syrup, cracked ice with slices of local pineapple and orange for garnish and sometimes topped with a cherry. He also takes note to relay there is no additional cost for the cherry! Which leaves me to ponder - how enticing was the notion of a free cherry! The Myers’s Rum company was the first to capitalize on the name labeling itself The Planter’s Punch Rum and immortalizing Jamaican as the official rum of Planter’s Punch. The rise in popularity of other brands of Jamaican rum like J.Wray & Nephew and Appleton Estate (the oldest commercial distillery on the island), forced Spanish styles like Havana Club and Bacardi to begin offering darker varieties. Pussers, being the old style rum of the British Navy has tried, but no other style boasts the unique flavor of Jamaican rum. Spanning a complex profile ranging from deep musky sweet notes to nuances of rich tropical fruits it’s no wonder Jamaican rum has become the foundation of so many a tropical libation. Including the Planter’s Punch. So, on that note; let’s make a drink!
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The Planter’s Punch is not so much an individual recipe as it is a class of drink. Historically, each plantation, tavern, and hotel would serve up their own version of this tropical tipple. And that’s a trend that carries into our modern day. From cruise ships to all-inclusive resorts right down to the hotel bar at Doctors Cave Beach in Montego Bay where Cool Kenny served my compatriot and I up a little of his makeshift happy hour concoction. Yet, there are some distinctions between Planter’s and some of the other Caribbean punches.
First is Jamaican rum. Personally, the darker the better when it comes to Jamaican for me. Some tiki experts suggest Appleton Estate Rare Blend, a 12 yr pot stilled rum that will run you about $45. Great rum, and we all know how important good ingredients are, but upwards of 50 bucks a bottle I can’t justify when there are more affordable options that are just as good. For instance, Smith & Cross is very popular among enthusiasts. I’ve had it and it’s delicious but still too light to offer that true Jamaican flavor. There is no other rum I can find stateside that packs the caramel colored funky essence of Jamaican rum like Myers’s Original Dark. There isn’t much known about Myers’s rum and I gather they like it that way. As long as they keep exporting that sweet sweet distilled molasses that’s fine with me. We know the name dates back to the mid 19th century and it comes from a distillery in Kingston, JA.
From here things get pretty simple. Our simple syrup mix, which I always prefer making at home is a 1:1 mixture of sugar and water brought to a boil and let to simmer briefly and cool. I recommend using raw cane sugar for authenticity and flavor. You will notice a difference in your tiki drinks over the refined granulated stuff.
We use a lot of fruit in this recipe and I tell you it tastes nothing like Hawaiian Punch from that giant can our mom’s would bring to elementary school birthday parties. Of course you want your fresh lime juice. The recipe calling for pineapple and orange juices makes perfect sense as they would be common in the region. The versatility of punch makes for much clemency in taking liberties with ingredients. Keeping in the spirit of the traditional recipes I ventured to add mango, which is still found locally around the Caribbean. You want unsweetened pineapple juice whenever possible instead of the concentrated Dole stuff. Trader Joe’s carries great not-from-concentrate pineapple and mango juices. A lot of Spanish markets also carry mango nectar. The orange is easy. I have a cheap manual orange juicer that works perfect. It also works for grapefruit, which is another common island fruit that finds itself into one of our recipes. I use red grapefruit.
I suggest using any premade grenadine from your liquor store. It does add a hint of flavor but mostly gives punch its classic reddish hue. Angostura bitters are frequently used among Caribbean potions and essential to a fruity punch to balance out the sweetness. Finally, some ground nutmeg adds a bit of island spice. I didn’t mess around with clove or cinnamon, but if you're feeling extemporaneously experimental knock yourself out.
As far as tools go we’ll need a shaker and some cubed ice. Glassware for this drink is all over the place. Traditional festive punch glasses look like little clear handled mugs. A rocks glass also works, if you want to be more piratical. Of course, if you’ve got a favorite tiki mug that’s a go-to. I suggest a clear one so as to enjoy the color. Personally, this type of rum punch occupies a place in my mind full of tropical scents, queen palms breathing on the breeze, and lazy tides lapping at velvet sands. Therefore, I reach for a hurricane glass.
As you may guess attempting to track down an “original” recipe to such a capricious concoction wasn’t easy. After scouring my literature and various trusted sources I narrowed it down to three recipes I feel make the most of this drink. Keep in mind we’re only covering the Planter’s punch, Barbados, Martinique, Haiti, and Guyana are definitely on the list for future episodes.
We’ll start with the rhyme. 1 of Sour is lime juice. 2 of sweet is simple syrup. 3 of strong - rum. And water is our 4 of weak. This recipe has a surprisingly fruity element despite not using any fruit juice, save lime. The lack of body makes it light and refreshing albeit quite sweet. The dark rum is prevalent. I imagine it would be a welcomed tropical delight for wayward scoundrels, but for our modern palates it’s a bit bland. That’s why I use fruit juice rather than water. Pineapple and mango. Now, mango is a pretty thick, sweet juice. So I cut the sugar in half. I tend to like the flavors of the fruit without blowing the sweetness out of proportion. If you want to follow the rhyme exactly use orange instead of mango. Dump all these in a shaker, shake, and pour the whole thing, ice and all, into your glass.
½ oz Lime Juice
½ oz Simple Syrup
1 ½ oz Dark Jamaican Rum
1 oz Pineapple Juice
1 oz Mango Juice
3 Dashes Angostura Bitters
Sprinkle of Nutmeg
The next recipe we’re going to cover is the IBA official. I always like to consult the International Bartenders Association when researching these drinks. Though their recipes usually hit all the bullet points they don’t always encompass the originality of the cocktail the way I try to here on Pod Tiki. But this time they hit it out of the park. The IBA turns the desultory flavors of the classic rhyme recipe into what we modern folk would recognize as a punch. Again I tried with both orange and then mango. I also tried halfing both and making a kamikaze. (Can we still say kamikaze?) Anyway, mango is so strong it overpowers the orange so it’s unnecessary. The verdict is that if you’re going for crisp and refreshing, use orange. For more of a thicker fruit punch flavor, the mango. You’ll also notice this recipe calls for lemon juice instead of lime. Quick historical sidebar; in Colonial era Spanish the words for lemon and lime were the same and often interchangeable depending on availability. In this particular cocktail I found using lemon keeps it light and summery. Therefore I suggest lime/mango juices in winter and lemon/orange in summer. This is a great balanced beverage. Not too sweet. The juices really help bring out the underlying fruitiness in the rum. Here it is. (Note: ¼ oz is a tsp.)
1½ oz Dark Jamaican Rum
1 oz Pineapple
1 oz Orange or Mango
½ oz Lemon
¼ oz Grenadine
¼ oz Simple Syrup
Shake, pour and then add 2-3 dashes Angostura bitters
This brings us to our final recipe. This is Tony’s Planter’s Punch. Yep, my personal recipe. Honestly, I didn’t break any grounds here. I simply took a few recipes I found along the way and basically combined them with everything I liked so far. Same rules apply as above for orange vs. mango, but I recommend using the orange here as I found mango overpowers the grapefruit. Okay, are we all on the same page here? Sometimes I laugh because I know how ridiculous getting this into fruit juice and rum is. But that’s the essence of tiki! Maintaining that element of serious silliness. Also, since my tolerance hasn’t leveled out from the Zombie episode yet, I will sometimes modify the 3oz of dark rum to 2oz of dark and 1oz of J.Wray&Nephew overproof Jamaican rum. And, oh yeah. I upped the amounts on this to fill out my hurricane glass and really put my head in vacation mode. Let’s do it.
1 oz Lime Juice
2 oz Simple Syrup
2 oz Pineapple Juice
1 oz Orange Juice
1 oz Grapefruit Juice
¼ oz Grenadine
3 oz Jamaican Rum
3 Dashes Angostura Bitters
Pinch of Nutmeg
Shake it all up and pour all into a tall glass. Watch how the effervescence bubbles up and gives it that true punch mouth feel. Parce your ingredients out and make a few at a time or scale up for a large gathering. Either way this fruit boozy balanced libation is sure to please any experienced rum-head or casual poolside lounger.
But we’re not quite through. We have to address garnish. I’m really trying to get more into garnishes. I’ve always held the belief that while they’re essential for presentation at a bar, if they don’t affect the flavor they’re unnecessary at home. For instance, mint in a mai tai definitely stimulates the olfactory senses adding to the experience, but skewering chunks of fruit and laying them on top of a frozen daiquiri does little but poke me in the eye when I take a drink. For punch I would say garnish is simply garnish for an individual serving; maybe some nutmeg on top, but for a bowl? For a bowl I think presentation is everything. Therefore, whatever fruits you plan on using in your mix I would buy one extra of each, slice them into wheels and float them atop your bowl and go ahead and sprinkle some extra nutmeg as well. I suggest not putting ice in your bowl as over time you’ll end up with a watery mess. There we are, folks.
Now that all you revelous rapscallions have a piratical potion to transport you to the shores of old Jamaica remember to imbibe responsibly. There’s a reason our favorite spirit got the nickname demon-rum. There is a thin line between bucanero and borracho. And for heaven’s sake, stay safe. Make sure to properly clean your cutting boards, knives, and barware after each use along with properly storing your fresh ingredients. Corona is meant to be served with a lime, not a respirator.
I also want to give credit to my references for this episode: And A Bottle Of Rum, by Wayne Curtis has been a huge resource in all my work. As well as Jeff “Beachbum” Berry’s website. I also used Wikipedia for my historical research and an Epicurious article by Joe Sevier.
Thank you all for listening. My name is Tony, and we’ll see you next time on Pod Tiki.