Eggnog

Eggnog

For many, it is the most hated of all nogs, but for those who are like me, it is as much a part of the holiday as carols, presents, and heavy-handed television specials. I can’t remember the first time I tried it, it’s been a part of my holiday tradition since as far back as I can remember. Every year of my childhood a carton of the stuff would unceremoniously appear in the fridge and we would drink it after dinner with cookies and dessert. As an adult I’ve carried on the tradition, though now I make my own as opposed to buying it in the store.

Eggnog is centuries old and, like mulled wine, there are innumerable variations. Some served hot, others cold, some with whiskey, others with rum, or brandy, or sherry. In recent years, with the threat of salmonella, more recipes call for the eggs to be tempered with hot milk or cream, though older recipes would have you make it with raw egg.

Several years ago I stumbled across a blog supposedly recounting a recipe that had originated from Charles Dickens. I don’t know if the story is true, nor do I really care, the recipe was simple enough so I decided to try it for myself. Being an older variation, this one of course called for raw egg. It wasn’t exactly the same as the store-bought stuff I had grown up drinking, but it was close and I liked that it was homemade. For years this was the way I served it to guests during the holidays.

During my last big holiday party in Missouri, the year before I moved to Chicago, I made a pitcher of eggnog, expecting I would be the only one drinking it, which is often the case. To my surprise the guests loved it and before I knew it the pitcher was empty. I offered to make another batch and everyone agreed that they would love to have more, until they saw me making it. Once everyone knew I had been making it with raw eggs, they were horrified. After I had finished making the second pitcher, no one would touch it.

This year, I decided to make it again, but I wanted to see how it changed from heating it on the stovetop to using raw egg. To my surprise, I found I enjoyed the texture of the eggnog that had been tempered and allowed to chill more than the raw egg variety I had made in the past.

I also tried it with a variety of liquors including brandy, rum, whiskey, and Malört. The recipe I always used called for whiskey, but I preferred it with rum more than any other alcohol. I think it tasted closer to what I recall from my childhood with whiskey, but the rum gave it a smoother flavor.

Like most things during the holidays, a big part of why I make eggnog is to share it with others. If the concern over salmonella is going to get in the way of people enjoying it, I think I’m going to have to temper the eggs with heated milk and cream moving forward. The next time someone is disgusted with my eggnog I want it to be because I didn’t tell them I put Malört in it, not because they’re worried about getting sick.

Bénédictine liqueur bene'n'hot warm drink

Bénédictine

November 11th marked the 100 year anniversary of the end of WWI. Being a casual history buff, that date loomed large in my imagination and I marked it on the calendar in the hopes that I would do something cool for the blog, but that didn’t really happen. When the day rolled around, I was off visiting family and I just didn’t have anything together to post.

On a whim, I searched for information about what people were drinking during WWI. The French had wine rations, the British had rum, and the Germans had schnapps, but to do a topic like that any kind of justice was going to take a greater investment of time than I had available. I also thought about recreating some of the classic cocktails from of that generation, but that was going to take both time and money, strike two.

Bénédictine liqueur

Then I stumbled across this click-bait slideshow from the Drinks Business, which pretty much encompassed everything I had been thinking until the last slide where, at the urging of one of their readers, they gave an honorable mention to Bénédictine. The story goes something like this:

A British unit, known as the Accrington Pals, developed a fondness for a liqueur, called Bénédictine, they discovered while stationed near Normandy, France during WWI. After the end of the war they returned home and began requesting it around their home of East Lancashire. The drink caught on and gained increasing popularity with the locals, particularly in Burnley, where the Burnley Miners Social Club is now the single largest consumer of the French liqueur. “Bene” is so beloved in the area that even the Burnley Football Club (the Clarets) serve the liqueur on game days.

Bénédictine liqueur

Bénédictine can be served neat, on the rocks, or in the infamous “Bene Bomb,” made to appeal to a younger market. However, the the most popular way to consume it is a “Bene’n’hot,” Bénédictine and hot water.

There seems to be a bit of debate about the origins of the liqueur, one camp believing Alexandre La Grand, a 19th century a négociant, recovered an old tome that had once belonged to the Abbey of Fécamp in Normandy which contained a recipe for an herbal liqueur made from 27 secret herbs and spices (16 more than Colonel Sanders). With the help of a local chemist, he recreated the liqueur, calling it Bénédictine in honor of the monks. The second camp hold that La Grand made the whole story up to boost sales. Who’s right? I have no idea and, in the end, it doesn’t really matter to me, they’re both fun stories.

Bénédictine liqueur

Over the years there have been several attempts to emulate the recipe, but it remains a closely guarded trade secret. According to the legend, one three living people know the recipe at any given time.

When I hear the words “herbal liqueur,” I can’t help but shudder just a bit. All skepticism aside, Bénédictine is really good. It has a powerful cinnamon flavor, but not as sweet as something like Fireball or a cinnamon schnapps. Whatever blend of herbs and spices being used adds enough complexity to make it more than a one note drink.

I’ve tried it several different ways and I have to say, those East Lancashire guys were onto something; the addition of the hot water mellows out the flavor and a slice of lemon balances out the sweetness really well. The Bene’n’hot has made for a superb night cap as the weather has turned colder and is now my preferred way to have Bénédictine.

So, while I may not have had this posted in time for Armistice Day, I was eventually able to find a drink linked to WWI that I could write about and to get me through another miserable Chicago winter. If you’re looking for a drink to celebrate Armistice Day or just to fight off the cold, I’d recommend giving this a try.

Bénédictine liqueur bene'n'hot warm drink

Bene’n’hot Recipe

Ingredients:

Bénédictine

Hot Water

Lemon

Instructions:

1. Pour a shot of Bénédictine in a pint glass.

2. Fill the rest of the glass with hot water.

3. Add a slice of lemon.

4. Consume.

Jeppson's Malört Malort bäsk Chicago wormwood liquor two shots

Jeppson’s Malört

In late 2015 I visited Chicago on a scouting mission, to see if I might want to move there. My few friends in the area were quick to introduce me to their favorite restaurants and attractions, on the first evening of my visit one friend dragged me to a bar and ordered a shot of something he assured me was a local favorite. He watched my reaction with predatory anticipation, anxious to laugh and feel the sweet, sweet, satisfaction of revenge for so many past food pranks I had visited on him. He was quickly disappointed; I’d had worse.

This was my first exposure to Jeppson’s Malört and, since moving to Chicago, I have carried on the tradition of subjecting unwitting friends and co-workers to this local favorite. For those who have never tried it, the experience of drinking Malört is much like the emotional ride my friend went through while watching me; at first it seems sweet and your mind tricks you into thinking you’re about to enjoy what’s happening, then something goes horribly wrong and all you’re left with is savage disappointment. I can only compare it’s bitter flavor to regret or, perhaps, a ruined orgasm. Somehow, I find I actually like the stuff.

Jeppson's Malört Malort bäsk Chicago wormwood liquor two shots
You should always pour two shots of Malört, because if you keep things that hurt you bottled up they’ll never go away; you have to share that pain with others.

If it’s something you’re interested in trying for yourself, you can find it in most Chicagoland bars. In fact, if you’re in a Chicago bar and they don’t have Malört, leave and find a better bar.

I’m not kidding, if they don’t have Malört it had better be a wine bar (even then, I think you could find a wine bar with a sense of humor).

If you’re outside the Chicago area, look for bäsk, a Swedish liquor flavored with wormwood, and that’ll get you in same ballpark.

Despite the fact I usually use Malört as a weapon to attack my friends and make them hate me, I’m convinced it can be used to compliment a meal.