Milk Punch: a Libation for the Vintage Molecular Mixologist
I first learned about milk punch when I started working at The Aviary in Chicago. On my first day, I asked one of the senior bartenders what the watermelon-flavored “milk punch” on the menu was; how could a crystal-clear pink liquid have anything to do with dairy? He then explained to me that the drink began its life opaque, but once combined with milk, the alcohol curdled it into a raft of tiny curds, which could then be strained to form the transparent cocktail we now poured into teacups and infused with earl grey aroma.
With a culinary background largely devoid of bartending experience, I could only compare it to consommé, a type of soup clarified with egg whites and ground meat. While the two differ in methodology, the underlying science and rationale—that of coagulation leading to clarity—remains identical. Even more beautiful is that, much like the French clear soup, clarification—despite seeing a modern revival—is actually a historic technique; at least, it is old enough for me to sit down and thoroughly read up about its origins, mechanisms, and return with much glee.
Curds and Boozy Whey
While some cultures and regions use “milk punch” to refer to a drink that’s finished with milk or cream, most modern bartenders use it to refer to clarified milk punch, where a mixture of various spirits, sugars, and citrus juices are combined with whole milk, often with added heat, which almost instantly curdles—and grabs any impurities along with it. Basically, the whole thing relies on the mechanics of protein denaturing (unfolding from their delicate, 3D structure and exposing their sticky grabby ends) and coagulating (sticking onto each other in large hunks).
In the presence of alcohol, acid, and heat, the casein proteins found in milk “clump together … and form a solid mass, or coagulate” into globules large enough to be seen with the naked eye (McGee 19). To simplify the science a bit, casein proteins are held together in tiny bundles with a little bit of calcium phosphate glue and prohibited from growing too large by the negative charge of the surrounding kappa-casein, but once the acidity is turned up, the calcium glue melts, the casein proteins find themselves swimming around, and at a pH of 4.7, they “lose their negative charge, bond to each other again and form a continuous, fine network,” leading to the milk curdling (20).
In milk punch, those coagulating caseins also trap within their sticky matrix other proteins and bits floating around within the drink; America’s Test Kitchen’s Dan Souza notes that most of these “mess with the clarity of drinks,” meaning that once you strain everything off through the finest filter you have, you end up with “a crystal clear and gorgeous cocktail” free from any bitter or unappealing flavors (“Classic”).
If you’ve ever made cheese, you will instantly recognize the process; milk punch is just making curds and whey, but with a different goal! Most cheese makers prioritize the solid curds left over after the coagulation process; on the other hand, punch makers are only interested in the curds insofar as they help strain the resulting liquid. Speaking from experience, the “clarification cheese” left over form making milk punch doesn’t taste very good. It being loaded with all those captured phenolic compounds lends it a Greek yogurt-like quality, only with a much drier and more bitter aftertaste. If there is a use for the raft, I haven’t found it yet.
Technically, milk punch is a form of whey, since whey proteins don’t coagulate as easily as casein and tend to remain in solution after whole milk is curdled. This gives the final product a considerably full and velvety mouthfeel, belied by its bright appearance. The punch hasn’t forgotten that it once had port and brandy and dark tea; it just forgot to taste bitter along the way.
Cocktail Chemistry, Before it was Cool
Unlike other modern innovations in the mixology sphere, from centrifuges to sous-vides, clarified milk punch dates back to centuries ago. The drink’s first recorded mention, according to cocktail historian David Wondrich in his book Punch, was by Member of Parliament William Sacheverell, in an “account of the ramble he took around the Scottish island of Iona in 1688”(165). It is unclear who first thought of the idea to clarify brandy through curdled milk, although in the eighteenth century, stage historian William Oldys claimed that an old actor, John Bowman, told him that English playwright Aphra Behn “was the First Person [Bowman] ever knew or heard of who made the Liquor call’d Milk Punch,” a claim repeated in the fascinating author’s informal memoirs published in the 20th century (Montague 26).
In an attempt to promote her works and outrageous life (in fact, she may very well be a contender for a future article!), this fact may have not been checked as rigorously as it ought to have, since no other evidence really exists tying the two together aside from her love of punch. That said, both her memoirs and Punch can agree on the first recorded recipe of the libation—one compiled in 1711 by Mary Rockett, an English housewife. Here it is in all its glory, complete with that classic disregard for standardized spelling:
To make Milk Punch. Infuse the rinds of 8 Lemons in a Gallon of Brandy 48 hours then add 5 Quarts of Water and 2 pounds of Loaf Sugar then Squize [sic] the Juices of all the Lemons to these Ingredients add 2 Quarts of new milk Scald hot stirring the whole till it crudles [sic] grate in 2 Nutmegs let the whole infuse 1 Hour then refine through a flannel Bag. (Montague 26)
An additional method was written in a letter by Benjamin Franklin in 1763, as evidenced in Dave Arnold’s Liquid Intelligence on his section about milk-washing. Similarly, Franklin’s method also involves copious amounts of brandy, lemons, nutmeg, and sugar, as well as adding hot milk to the punch mixture, although he prefers to “run [the punch] thro’ a Jelly-bag till it is clear” rather than using a flannel like Rockett (267).
The reasoning for such experimental clarification? Body and flavor, sure, but the most popular theory is that it came about as a preservation technique. Removed of all impurities and suspended in high amounts of alcohol, milk punch can keep for a few weeks at room temperature, and even longer refrigerated. I wrote the first draft of this article while leisurely sipping on homemade port and tea punch I made three weeks prior—pictured above—and it still tastes as vibrant and refreshing as it did back in July. Eighteenth-century cookbook author Hannah Glasse (another contender for a future article) claims in the absurdly-long subtitle of The Compleat [sic] Confectioner that the book includes “directions for making … milk punch that will keep twenty years.” That said, the recipe proper, which also uses brandy and lemon, tells readers that it will only keep “a fortnight or more;” truly, a beautiful showcase of vintage false advertising (208).
A Clear Comeback…
Unfortunately, milk punch’s first heyday came and went within the span of less than two centuries. The libation that was once experimented on by Ben Franklin, beloved by Queen Victoria, and discovered in the cellars of Charles Dickens (in drinkable condition, no less, according to Souza) slipped into obscurity by the turn of the twentieth century. The punch bowl was largely overtaken by the cocktail shaker, and the old clarified spirit along with it. Thankfully, the early twenty-first century has seen a revival in many classic cocktails and techniques, from the prohibition-era Last Word (a personal favorite) to our beloved crystal-clear punch.
So, what launched her back into stardom? Punch’s Kara Newman surmises that New York bartender Eamon Rockey helped revive it by “becom[ing] an evangelist for the drink after encountering it around 2008” and bringing it with him on his future ventures, from Eleven Madison Park to Betony. In Rockey’s words, milk punch “became [his] religion,” with him teaching classes on the old punch and eventually releasing his own liqueur inspired by the stuff (Emen). (It’s worth noting, through, that Rockey also appears to be on the Behnian train, being excited that “the darn stuff was invented 400 years ago by this amazing woman;” it’s amazing what a single line in a biography published two centuries later can do to a person’s reputation.)
The clarification trend of the mid-teens also helped bring milk punch back into the public eye, as milk proved to be a good starting point. Liquid Intelligence devotes an entire chapter to various methods of clarifying cocktails and spirits, complete with a section on milk-washing, a way of infusing spirits with flavors while using milk to keep them clear heavily inspired by traditional milk punch. Clarification remains popular, if for no other reason than the subversion of expectation it brings to the table. Lazy Tiger’s Tim Wiggins explicitly calls it a mindfuck, noting that customers would marvel at how “this clear drink [gets] all this flavor packed in”(Newman). Meanwhile, Cocktail Codex’s authors note in their section on clarified juices that “sometimes [they] just like to play with people’s expectations,” noting how fun it is when they serve up a “crystal clear drink that resembles a Martini” that ends up being a Daquiri instead (Day et. al. 145).
Modern service is about toying with guest expectations, oftentimes going above and beyond while messing with their minds a little. Dynamic platings, tableside cooking, and riffs on old cocktails are fine and dandy, but what’s more exciting than taking an old party drink from the history books and putting a modern twist on it?
…With Murky Methods
Well, arguing about it. That’s also pretty exciting.
Modern milk punch discussions barely resemble the homogenized agreement of its first heyday. Back in the eighteenth century, housewives could all agree that a proper milk punch should have brandy, lemon peels, nutmeg, and water for dilution. Today, however, nearly every part of the equation is in flux.
Most modern recipes swap the run-of-the-mill water for a tea component, typically black, although some still dilute with water infused with various aromatics. They usually also forgo the brandy and elect to use rum and port in its stead in a more classical preparation.
One thing that hasn’t changed, though, is the debate over methodology. Mary Rockett insisted on adding scalding hot milk to her brandy mixture and “stirring the whole till it crudles [sic],” while Hannah Glasse definitively states that one should add the rest of the ingredients to the milk and water while they’re together “a little warm” (Montague 26, Glasse 208). Today, we still can’t decide on if we add milk to punch (as recommended by Grant Achatz) or punch to milk (per the word of Dave Arnold).
Alton Brown will tell you to “park [the mixture] on the counter” and not “shake, stir or molest in any way,” but Dave Arnold advises readers to “gently move the curds around to mop up the extra casein” after coagulation (268). Myself, I was advised by my friend to add punch to milk and stir well, but what do I know?
Furthermore, with jelly-bags no longer being a staple of most kitchens and flannel being a plaid-patterned shirt you wear, we needed to update our straining game. Most sources, from Brown to Arnold, recommend a fine mesh strainer lined with a coffee filter, although some have more unorthodox methods. Imbibe Magazine recommends that the liquid be strained “a little at a time through a fine chinois [conical mesh strainer] lined with cheesecloth,” then refrigerated in a separate container “to give the remaining milk solids time to settle” so that the punch-maker can then “ladle the clarified punch into a clean container,” paying no attention to the mass of solids at the bottom (Garton). Corinne Mossati of Cocktails & Bars takes it a step further by writing that after spending the night in the fridge, the recipe maker should “pass the liquid through a cheese cloth,” and the process being “repeat[ed]… once a day over 3 days” in a torturous refinement dance with seemingly no end.
As for The Aviary? Well, the official cocktail book features one milk punch sub-recipe as part of the “Doppia Bevanda,” and it insists that you pour the curdled punch into a chinois over a bowl, since the “curds will settle into [the] chinois and begin to form a filtration bed” that will let the liquid pass clear (Achatz et. al. 328). From there, simply move the chinois-cum-raft over another bowl, and once the majority of the punch is strained, “pour [the] reserved cloudy portion from the first bowl over curds… into second bowl to further clarify it”(328). Hey, no one ever said molecular gastronomy was easy.
While an impressive use of an old-school raft, the laborious and tricky nature of its formation, not to mention the annoyance of grabbing another container that takes up space and needs to be washed, means it’s rarely put into practice. Most of my coworkers working on milk punch simply line their chinois with a coffee filter, as I would recommend you to do; it’s quick, simple, idiot-proof, and allows you to walk away and work some more magic elsewhere.
A Taste of History
Like any good food history enthusiast, I knew I had to try my hand at making milk punch before diving any deeper.
Using a method given to me by a friend (he prefers to pour punch into milk, gently agitate, refrigerate for at least half an hour, and strain with a coffee filter), I set about my first attempt made with ruby port, white rum, and black tea. The result? I amazed myself by being successful on the first try and ending up with the beautiful bottle of booze pictured at the start of this article!
Just as expected, milk punch is wonderfully clear, yet also surprisingly creamy and velvety-smooth due to the presence of whey proteins. It’s got all the body of a glass of port or a mug of tea without any tannic or astringent notes. When I shared it with my friends, they were similarly impressed and delighted; now I know what to bring to my next party!
Of course, when one falls down a rabbit hole, one cannot stop at merely one iteration. The beauty of milk punch is its flexibility, after all; why not embrace it and experiment?
Within the span of less than a month, I’d already tried my hand at two other iterations. To the left is the original port punch, after some indulgence; in the center is my first and only successful attempt at a blue punch made with blue spirulina, gin, and white port (attempts at boiling the spirulina or mixing it with tea yielded wildly different colors); and to the right is a punch inspired by Amir, the protagonist of my historical novel-in-progress Madeira. “The Spymaster,” as I call it, is crafted with Madeira (what else?), gin, peach-lemon tea, and honey. Although he’s alive in the dark ages before milk punch’s revival, he’d hopefully still approve.
Finally, being the vintage nerd that I am, I knew I’d eventually have to go full punch aficionado and recreate the original Mary Rockett recipe. I followed her method almost entirely to the letter, with a few tweaks; I scaled down the recipe by a factor of eight since I don’t exactly have “eight lemons and a gallon of brandy” money (or liver capacity), I used granulated white sugar instead of loaf sugar, and I accidentally turned the lemon peel-brandy infusion into a cold steep since, in my hasty rush to avoid food poisoning, I forgot that Rockett didn’t have access to a fridge. Whoops.
With a surprisingly greenish tint and a pleasant lemony aroma, Mary Rockett’s punch goes down very easily, with only the slightest hint of a brandy burn. I will say, I didn’t catch as much nutmeg as I could have; it does seem odd to infuse it after the clarification step (Benjamin Franklin adds his nutmeg before, interestingly enough). However, it’s still very bright and refreshing and the perfect summery punch with which to toast the end of August.
For Auld Lang Syne
Nothing warms my heart more than knowing people centuries ago were being just as weird with their alcohol as the modern mixologist; still even more charming is milk punch’s return to modern appeal after decades of dormancy. Our ancestors tried to solve problems and get creative just as much as we do; more connects us across time and space than that which separates us, and this pleasantly includes the time-honored tradition of getting sloshed in the most delightful way possible.
Next time you want to impress your next party with an antique flair, why not break out the rum and milk? Wait until you see the look on your friends’ faces as they learn that the beautifully transparent and smooth punch they’re sipping once resembled technicolor curds!
Here’s to the dog days of summer, dear readers. Drink well, drink responsibly, and never be afraid to experiment.
Works Cited
Arnold, Dave. Liquid Intelligence. W. W. Norton & Company, 2014.
Brown, Alton. "Clarified Milk Punch Recipe." Food Network, https://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/alton-brown/clarified-milk-punch-7994227. Accessed 16 Aug 2022.
"Classic Cocktail Revived: America's Test Kitchen on Milk Punch." The Splendid Table, Minnesota Public Radio, 15 September 2017, https://www.splendidtable.org/story/2017/09/15/classic-cocktail-revived-americas-test-kitchen-on-milk-punch.
Day, Alex, et. al. Cocktail Codex. Ten Speed Press, 2018.
Emen, Jake. "A Bartender Put Milk Punch in a Bottle. So Everyone Could Try it." Liquor.com, 7 Dec 2018, https://www.liquor.com/articles/rockeys-milk-punch.
Garton, Tracy Howard. "DIY Clarified Milk Punch." Imbibe Magazine, 29 July 2015, https://imbibemagazine.com/clarified-milk-punch/.
Glasse, Hannah. The Compleat Confectioner: or, the Whole Art of Confectionary Made Plain and Easy. London, J. Cooke, 1772.
McGee, Harold. On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen. Scribner, 2004.
Mossati, Corinne. "How to Make Clarified Milk Punch." Cocktails & Bars, 4 Aug 2015, https://www.cocktailsandbars.com/how-to-make-clarified-milk-punch/.
Newman, Kara. "Milk Punch Has Lost Its Mind." Punch, 14 Oc 2021, https://punchdrink.com/articles/clarified-milk-punch-cocktail-recipe-has-lost-its-mind/.
Summers, Montague. A Memoir of Mrs. Behn. 1914.
Wondrich, David. Punch: The Delights (and Dangers) of the Flowing Bowl. TarcherPerigee, 2010.
