Holidays with the Admiral

I've been blessed in these early winter months to find myself in some good company. Holiday potlucks are about throwing up your hands, shrugging off the trivial gains and losses of a year and hunkering down with the people you care about. They're more civilized than blowing off steam at the bar, a bit more raucous than a dinner party, and a proving ground for the most decadent, delicious snacks you could never justify in your own home. And let me tell you- my friends didn't disappoint in the kitchen this year.

For these celebrations alone, I'm thrilled to see the art of punch-making swinging back into vogue this year. Cocktail historian Dave Wondrich's brand new book "Punch: The Delights (and Dangers) of the Flowing Bowl" surely has a lot to do with this- his last boozy history lesson "Imbibe!" did no small part to push the classic cocktail into the limelight it enjoys today. But whatever the catalyst, sharing a huge steaming bowl of booze in the winter months with close friends is about as perfect a drink as you're gonna get.

This little concoction is a treat because it's about as simple as cracking a beer: no steeping, no blending, just dump in pot, heat & serve.

Admiral’s Rum and Brandy Punch

2 cups apricot juces

4 cups pineapple juice

1 cup grapefruit juice

1 cup light rum

1/2 cup brandy

Lime wedges

Mix the juices in a saucepan on medium & heat to a gentle simmer. Lower the heat, simmer for 2 more minutes & add the rum and brandy. Ladle into individual glasses with a lime wedge.

Yeah, I skimped on the quality of the brandy big-time, and didn't exactly go all out with the rum either. Didn't make a lick of difference. This hot blend of tropical flavors cut with the spice of the booze is unnervingly, sublimely warming. If it's going to be out for awhile, you might want to dump it into a crock pot to keep it hot- though we didn't have that problem.

We got to the party early and watched people shuffle in from the icy porch, reluctant to surrender their coats. After a few minutes of skeptical eyes surveying the steaming pot of orange-yellow liquid, mugs were filled and passed around the room. We drank it down to the last drop along with pulled pork tacos, bacon-wrapped figs, duck pates and homemade spinach pies. At the end of the night, the pot was dry enough that I had to run my finger across it just to verify some kind guest hadn't taken the initiative to wash and dry it.

Of course, they hadn't. And I'm glad- that's how a holiday potluck's supposed to go.