Eggnog
According to the Custom
One of my earliest memories is of standing beside my father in the kitchen as he made eggnog. I must have been six or seven at the time, because I remember the silvery bowl was almost as big as I was. The bowl shrank over the years, as I grew up, but in the beginning it was huge. And I can still hear the tintinnabulation of the metal beaters against the metal bowl as he mixed the eggs, whiskey, and sugar.
I recall standing on a stool beside him as he added whiskey to the bowl in a slow stream as delicate as a chef making mayonnaise, the electric mixer going full speed beating a whining, rattling tattoo on the sides of the bowl. He was, and is, a gentle man, but he was also big and expansive and that was the most delicate and patient operation I have ever seen him perform. The whiskey entered the maelstrom almost drop by drop. He'd learned from past years that working too quickly, too brashly, produced scrambled eggs instead of the smooth and unctuous base he'd need a month from that day when he added the cream and served the nog. And there were inevitable splatters that over the years graced the open pages of the cookbook containing the recipe.
For more than 50 years, my father has made eggnog almost every Thanksgiving and then aged it until Christmas. It is a family tradition grown from the longer history of eggnog.
The origin of eggnog, as with any recipe more than 100 years old, is more theory than fact. However, early recipes were often made with ale, which was often served in a "noggin" (a small cup) and likely was the source of the "nog" or "nogg" portion of the name (the "egg" part is self-evident). We also know that, made with brandy or wine, it was an expensive drink popular with the English aristocracy. Jerry Thomas' Bartenders Guide or How to Mix Drinks (first published in 1862) included this recipe:
Eggnog likely came to this country from England via its more aristocratic immigrants, but quickly spread. Isaac Weld, an 18th century Irish traveler who wrote about his travels in America, noted: "The American travelers, before they pursued their journey, took a draught each, according to custom, of egg-nog, a mixture composed of new milk, eggs rum, and sugar, beat up together." Brandy was indeed a precious commodity in the New World and so rum became the most common alcohol in the North while bourbon became typical in the South.
My father's original recipe came from the Wise Encyclopedia of Cooking — his favorite cookbook. Some 30 years ago, the book was reprinted and I bought a copy, which I gave to my father for Christmas, and then asked for his old, battered, green, clothbound edition for my library. I did want the old book, as a connection with my father, but more, I wanted the pencil notations on the eggnog recipe that detailed his changes to the ingredients.
Make up a batch this Thanksgiving, stick it in the back of a closet, and come Christmas pull it out, add the cream, and raise a toast to my old man and a long tradition.
One of my earliest memories is of standing beside my father in the kitchen as he made eggnog. I must have been six or seven at the time, because I remember the silvery bowl was almost as big as I was. The bowl shrank over the years, as I grew up, but in the beginning it was huge. And I can still hear the tintinnabulation of the metal beaters against the metal bowl as he mixed the eggs, whiskey, and sugar.
I recall standing on a stool beside him as he added whiskey to the bowl in a slow stream as delicate as a chef making mayonnaise, the electric mixer going full speed beating a whining, rattling tattoo on the sides of the bowl. He was, and is, a gentle man, but he was also big and expansive and that was the most delicate and patient operation I have ever seen him perform. The whiskey entered the maelstrom almost drop by drop. He'd learned from past years that working too quickly, too brashly, produced scrambled eggs instead of the smooth and unctuous base he'd need a month from that day when he added the cream and served the nog. And there were inevitable splatters that over the years graced the open pages of the cookbook containing the recipe.
For more than 50 years, my father has made eggnog almost every Thanksgiving and then aged it until Christmas. It is a family tradition grown from the longer history of eggnog.
The origin of eggnog, as with any recipe more than 100 years old, is more theory than fact. However, early recipes were often made with ale, which was often served in a "noggin" (a small cup) and likely was the source of the "nog" or "nogg" portion of the name (the "egg" part is self-evident). We also know that, made with brandy or wine, it was an expensive drink popular with the English aristocracy. Jerry Thomas' Bartenders Guide or How to Mix Drinks (first published in 1862) included this recipe:
Egg NoggA larger version in the same book calls for 20 eggs and 2 1/2 quarts of "fine old brandy."
(Use large bar-glass.)
Take 1 large teaspoonful of powdered white sugar.
1 fresh egg.
½ wine-glass of brandy.
½ wine-glass of Santa Cruz rum.
A little shaved ice.
Fill the glass with rich milk and shake up the ingredients until they are thoroughly mixed. Pour the mixture into a goblet excluding the ice, and grate a little nutmeg on top. This may be made by using a wineglass of either of the above liquors, instead of both combined.
Every well ordered bar should have a tin egg-nogg "shaker," which is a great aid in mixing this beverage.
Eggnog likely came to this country from England via its more aristocratic immigrants, but quickly spread. Isaac Weld, an 18th century Irish traveler who wrote about his travels in America, noted: "The American travelers, before they pursued their journey, took a draught each, according to custom, of egg-nog, a mixture composed of new milk, eggs rum, and sugar, beat up together." Brandy was indeed a precious commodity in the New World and so rum became the most common alcohol in the North while bourbon became typical in the South.
My father's original recipe came from the Wise Encyclopedia of Cooking — his favorite cookbook. Some 30 years ago, the book was reprinted and I bought a copy, which I gave to my father for Christmas, and then asked for his old, battered, green, clothbound edition for my library. I did want the old book, as a connection with my father, but more, I wanted the pencil notations on the eggnog recipe that detailed his changes to the ingredients.
Make up a batch this Thanksgiving, stick it in the back of a closet, and come Christmas pull it out, add the cream, and raise a toast to my old man and a long tradition.
Dad's EggnogMy father says he often increases the bourbon to 1 cup and the rum to 1/2 cup in the base mixture producing a more potent (and less thick) end result. He warns that if you do this the time spent adding the booze to the eggs will be proportionally longer.
Makes 6 servings.
Eggnog, Base Mixture
6 eggs
1/2 c super-fine sugar
3/4 c bourbon
1/3 c rum (dark is best)
Beat eggs until well-mixed. Combine bourbon and rum and add very gradually to the egg mixture — this should take about fifteen minutes. (Note: If the booze is added too quickly it will curdle the eggs by causing the proteins to denature, so take it slowly.) Beat in the sugar and store in a glass or ceramic jar or jug in a cool, dark place — but not a refrigerator. The container should be covered loosely, but you want some air to get in.
Eggnog, Finished Mixture
1 c whipping cream
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 c sugar
Whip the cream until almost stiff. Whip in vanilla and sugar. Stir the base mixture and thoroughly mix into cream. This nog will be very thick and you may wish to thin it somewhat with milk. Serve in punch cups with a sprinkling of finely grated nutmeg.
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