Pisco Punch (The Classic Version)
"Oh, Pancho!" "Oh, Pisco!" I knew I was being annoying, but that only spurred me on.
"Oh, Pancho!" "Oh, Pisco!" My Mexican accent was becoming broader and more offensive with every iteration.
"Oh, Pancho!" Oh, P..."
"Stop it. Now. If you say that irritating thing one more time I swear I’m going to pick you up and defenestrate you." Despite his excellent word choice, this was a surprising threat of violence coming from Dan, who usually assumes the Longsuffering Husband perspective and simply sighs with resignation.
"It’s classic television history," I sniffed, taking the pedantic perspective and feeling suddenly huffy and put-out. "Didn’t you ever watch The Cisco Kid?"
"The Cisco Kid?!" he said with a tone of stupefaction. "When was that even on? 1940? Even you, Methuselah, are too young for The Cisco Kid."
"No need to turn personal," I chided. "If it weren’t for me and my nerdy friends, the entire history of television would evaporate just like this." I made a dramatic poofing sound and looked outraged.
"OK, forget it. I know when I’m licked."
"Grrrr, tiger!" I said and made an obscene licking gesture with my tongue.
"What is wrong with you?" He turned and quickly headed to his computer. Having had my audience walk out on me, I had no choice but to return to the kitchen and resume my exploration into the liquor called Pisco.
Pisco is a type of brandy that is fermented only in Chile and Peru. These two nations have been feuding with each other for literally centuries over which one may claim to be the original birthplace of the brandy. Pisco Punch, which is made of course from Pisco, comes to us however from San Francisco, where it had the reputation of being the most fashionable of that city’s cocktails in the late 1800. You may also have heard of the cocktail called the Pisco Sour. It was invented in Lima, Peru, and there appears to be no international kerfuffle over that fact.
I began my own Pisco explorations by drinking it by itself, neat. Pisco Portón, the brand I chose, is fine enough to drink solo; I can’t vouch for any rotgut Piscos one might find at the local liquor store in the States or some roadhouse in Peru.
It’s got a kick to it, this Pisco stuff! Reminiscent of grappa, it’s got a healthy burn when it hits the mouth, but it immediately blossoms into a faint fruit taste – in this case, the Muscat grapes, which serve as the liquor’s source. It goes down easy, if you like it a bit rough. I mean to say, Pisco is a drinking person’s drink when consumed by itself. It’s the kind of thing of which people remark, "That’ll put hair on your chest." I’ve been counting new ones on mine all week.
Pisco Punch
Call me the Pisco Kid. Yes, I’m still on a Pisco kick. The attentive reader will recall that my last Cocktail Chatter column concerned the Peruvian firewater called Pisco, a delicious and hard-knockin’ brandy distilled from Muscat grapes. Research into the drink’s history yielded the unexpected information that a punch made out of Pisco and pineapple syrup was San Francisco’s most fashionable cocktail in the late 1800s. Nowadays, the Pisco Sour appears more often on cocktail lists than Pisco Punch, so I decided to take the more adventurous route and make a round of the punch for Dan and me.
Well, sports fans, it was a punch in both senses of the word. The cocktail knocked us off our feet. We ended up ordering Chinese delivery for dinner, because after a couple of these babies neither one of us was capable of cooking. Besides, given the alcohol on our breath, lighting the cooktop would have put us at risk of blowing up the kitchen. Like Planters’ Punch, Pisco Punch is so delightfully drinkable that you don’t know you’re getting snockered until it’s too late to do much about it. Do not – I repeat, do not – go to the trouble of creating a multi-course meal if you’re planning to serve Pisco Punch as le cocktail du nuit. By the time you’re ready to serve your laboriously created Beef Wellington your guests won’t care if you served them Alpo straight from the can.
Here’s both the classic recipe and my time-saving and less watered-down variation.
Just pour a healthy amount of room-temperature Pisco into a liqueur glass or brandy snifter. I recommend Pisco Portón.
Pisco Punch (The Classic Version)
Cut a fresh pineapple into chunks, or – better – buy a container of cut-up fresh pineapple, and place the chunks in a larger sealable plastic container along with 1/2 cup of Really Simple syrup.* Refrigerate overnight so that the fruit macerates. The next day, mix the following in a cocktail shaker or pitcher for each portion you plan to serve:
2 TBS pineapple-infused simple syrup from the container of pineapple
4 TBS filtered water
3 TBS lemon juice
6 TBS Pisco Portón
Refrigerate the shaker or pitcher until you’re ready to serve the drink. Do not serve the punch on ice unless you haven’t chilled the punch enough; it shouldn’t be watery. Serve with a chunk of pineapple in each glass.
*Note: Simple Syrup is a pain to make the classic way; it’s much easier to mix equal parts of sugar and water in a jar, put the lid on the jar, and shake it till the sugar is dissolved.
Pisco Punch (My Quicker, Punchier Variation)
Buy a can of pineapple chunks in syrup. In a cocktail shaker or pitcher, mix the following ingredients for each portion:
2 TBS pineapple syrup from the can
3 TBS lemon juice
6 TBS Pisco Portón
Chill the cocktail thoroughly in the refrigerator before serving; again, do not serve over ice. And forget the chunk of pineapple stuck in the glass since it’s just going to take up space that would be better served by the cocktail itself. Moreover, you don’t really want to see your guests digging the thing out of their glasses with their fingers and then wiping their sticky hands on your nice throw pillows.