‘Wassail’ comes from the Middle English wæs hæil, and from the Old Norse before that ves heill meaning something akin to “be you in good health.” This classic medieval beverage, typically made from a combination of cider, ale and, later, fortified wine, has great significance in English drinking history and was popular during the Tudor period. ‘Tis truly supreme with the eggs, but if you must omit them for dietary reasons, ‘twill be delicious all the same.

Back in 2020, I developed a series of three drinks for my Lords of Misrule series, including this recipe, which was originally a single-serving punch. Its ingredients tell the story of the late Tudor (i.e. Elizabethan) period, when the English became the dastardly colonizers we now know them to be. In this large-format version, brandy (either Spanish or French) comes together with funky Batavia arrack (the original punch base!), oxidized sherry, Swedish Punsch (a punch within a punch), allspice dram, tea, and sugar for a punch with notes of dried fig, tropical fruit, nuts and spices, and a hint of smokiness.

Milk Punch–the kind we now differentiate as “clarified”–goes back to at least the early eighteenth century. It’s made by curdling warm milk in a punch mixture then straining it and, thanks to the magic of science, the milk solids make the mixture clear (hence the term “clarified”). Ours has aged rum, Madeira, lime, green tea, sugar, spices, and, well, milk.

Tavern culture was deeply tied with ports, in part because some of its most notable drinks were born at sea, but also because so much of taverns’ stock was imported. The combination of rum and brandy was a common one in eighteenth-century punches, and Madeira was a wildly popular imported wine. Our punch is flavored with a plethora of other valuable imports: spices, ginger, lime, and tea.

The Sangaree is one of the oldest in the tavern drinks canon and its existence long predates the foundation of the United States. Ours makes the most of summer’s bounty and mimics the presentation of the Sangaree’s more famous offspring — the Spanish punch Sangria.

In the olden days of coastal New England, a pineapple on the fence post was a sign of hospitality. It meant the captain who lived there was back from his voyage, ready to regale the townsfolk with his stories. This punch is what I imagine he would have served, on a snowy December evening, with his community gathered around his hearth, pipe smoke in the air and cheer in their hearts.