PART ONE: HOSTING
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The Proper Festive Soirée
By Tom Chiarella
I like giving presents, I enjoy making Yorkshire pudding, and I think there's a certain Rorschach value in the way a person decorates a cookie, but otherwise I relish only one thing about the holidays: I like my holiday party.
A good holiday party is without gimmick; it throbs with reliability without making a fetish out of tradition. Mine is a simple enough event, familiar in its detail the apron of light tumbling from a Christmas tree, weighty punch bowls and platters of carved meat, the trays of crab puffs that it might take place anywhere. There's a cache of wine stationed at one end of the kitchen, Rolling Rocks on the snowy deck, and vodka tucked in the freezer just for me. When families arrive, they are often greeted by whoever precedes them, so that each guest urges another guest deeper into the fold. The house feels bigger than usual then--each room seems a discrete occasion of space. And every room gets set up for a different kind of socializing. Around the food, people must move. In the living room, they want to sit and catch up. In the kitchen, they jostle a little for drinks. In other rooms, they retreat. You have to remember those tendencies and rearrange your furniture accordingly.
People want to wander at a holiday party, though truth be told, there are no discoveries. All of it is a lush echo of the year before, or a decade before that. Babies are held up. Backs slapped. Hands shaken. Absences noted. It takes a little understanding. Children must have television rooms to wrestle in. Sullen teenagers must be allowed to trundle unfettered from room to room, and there should be a Ping-Pong table for them in some faraway corner. Sometimes people need a little distance. When my party gets crowded, and for a time it always does, friends and enemies move shoulder-to-shoulder in semicircles of progress from the spiral ham, toward the empty armchairs, or back to the kitchen for another visit with Nick, and the whole event, nestled in the midst of weeks of obligation, feels like our best selves volunteering to be seen. I'll say it: I hate Christmas, but I love my party.
Here's the thing: I do not host this party. I do not fund it. I don't even help clean up. It is a Christmas Eve party hosted by my friends Bill and Gigi, in their home, two long starry blocks down the icy winter street from my place. I have attended it every year for almost two decades now. It's their party. They are known for it.
And here's my end: I put on a coat and tie, grab a stray bottle of wine, maybe a bag of pistachios, stuff myself in an overcoat, gather the people around me, and go to my party, a blessed constant in a season that mostly means loss to me these days. Mine in that I can rely on it. Mine because my friends give it to me. I thank them because the best present of all is the one you don't have to wish for.
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PART TWO: DRINKING + EATING
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The Gift of Punch
By David Wondrich
When days are short and we're all huddling together for warmth, a largish quantity of something festive to drink is a deeply appreciated thing. So appreciated that the person who supplies it might become exempt from supplying anything else. What we're trying to say is: Punch is a gift. Here are three proven mass-quantity drinks: ones that your friends haven't had a million times before.
For a Horde: Spread Eagle Punch
This American classic (the recipe is from Jerry Thomas's 1862 How to Mix Drinks, the world's first bartender's guide), pictured, is a foil for the fruity swill that so often passes for holiday punch. Dry, rich, and both smoky and lemony, it leverages the healing power of whiskey to create something that's masculine enough for your uncle but not so intense that your coworkers won't lap it up.
Procedure: Forty-eight hours before your party, put a gallon bowl full of water in the freezer. The day of, use a swivel-bladed vegetable peeler to peel a dozen lemons, trying to get as little of the white pith as possible. Put the peels in a 2- to 3-gallon pot (one with a cover) and muddle them with 1 cup sugar. Let sit for half an hour, muddle again, and add 2 bottles smoky single-malt Scotch (Bowmore Legend is good and affordable, but Laphroaig will work well, too) and 2 bottles straight rye whiskey. (The Sazerac rye is particularly fine here.) Stir and then add 1 gallon boiling water. Stir again until sugar has dissolved. Cover and let cool. To serve, unmold your bowl of ice (you may have to run hot water over the bottom of the bowl) and put it in a punch bowl. Pour the punch over the ice, add 4 thinly sliced, deseeded lemons, and grate half a nutmeg over the top. Serves 48.
For a Throng: Sherry Eggnog
Since eggnog isn't for serious drinking anyway, we suggest a low-alcohol version that concentrates on deliciousness and lets you supplement with shots of the Famous Grouse at will.
Procedure: Separate a dozen eggs into yolks and whites. Beat the yolks together with 6 oz sugar and half a nutmeg, grated, until smooth and creamy. Stir in a pint of rich oloroso sherry, such as the excellent Lustau Don Nuño. Then beat the egg whites separately in a plastic or ceramic bowl until they form soft peaks. Fold these into the yolk-and-sherry mixture and stir in 1/2 gallon whole milk. Keep refrigerated. Serves 24.
For an Assemblage: Seehund
We dug this one out of a 1900 book titled Bowls and Punches for the Use of the German Army in the Field and on Maneuvers. It makes typically Teutonic use of pyrotechnics in its construction. Fun.
Procedure: You'll need two 250-gram cones of piloncillo, the dark-loaf sugar found in any Whole Foods or Mexican market. Or go with the more authentic and harder-to-find German zuckerhut, which you can get from bavariasausage.com. Pour 4 bottles of dry red wine (a rioja or a Côtes du Rhône works great) into a large enameled pot. Add 2 lemons and 2 oranges cut into thin slices and deseeded. Heat until it starts to simmer and then have everyone gather around. Place a clean set of metal tongs (fireplace tongs work best) over the middle of the pot and put the sugar cones on them. Slowly pour 2 cups of strong rum (we recommend Smith & Cross Navy Strength or Wray & Nephew White Overproof) over the sugar. Then, using a long match or barbecue lighter, set it on fire. As the spirit-and-sugar mix drips down, ladle it back over the flaming loaves. (If you want to add more rum and you do put it in the ladle and bring it to the fire.) Serves 12.
The Best Winter Cocktails a Holiday Party Can't Live Without >>
The All-Purpose Holiday Blessing:
For a blessing, bow heads. For a toast, raise glasses.
Once again, we come together in joyous fellowship. For the memories we shall make and for the bounty we shall [eat/drink], let us truly be grateful. Lo though we are unworthy. And all the people say, [Amen/L'Chaim]!
The Official Cocktail of the Holiday Season:
The Tom and Jerry
12 eggs
1 cup sugar
1 bottle brandy
Pinch of ground allspice
Pinch of ground cinnamon
Pinch of ground cloves
1 bottle dark rum
Milk
Nutmeg
Glass type: Mug
Separate the eggs. Beat the whites until they form a stiff froth, and the yolks to which you have added the sugar "until they are as thin as water," as the professor advises, gradually adding 4 ounces brandy (spiceaholics will also add a pinch each of ground allspice, cinnamon, and cloves). Fold the whites into the yolks. When ready to serve, give it another stir and then put 1 tablespoon of this batter in a small mug or tumbler. Now add 1 ounce brandy (although some die-hard Dixiecrats prefer bourbon) and 1 ounce Jamaican rum, stirring constantly to avoid curdling. Fill to the top with hot milk and stir until you get foam. Sprinkle a little grated nutmeg on top. This one may require practice and a certain amount of fiddling, but it's well worth the effort. Note: Some people find the milk too rich and filling, so they use half hot milk, half boiling water.
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How to Cook for Forty
From Esquire's December 1986 issue
The food doesn't have to be fancy, but it should show some spirit. Select dishes that can be mainly done in advance and frozen until party time. Treat the menu as a whole: dishes should complement one another in flavor, color, and texture. For forty guests, plan to have two or three hot dishes, three or four cold ones. Estimate six or seven hors d'oeuvres per person for a two-or-three-hour cocktail party.
Hot Dishes
1. Shrimp and beef sate with a peanut sauce.
2. Almond-coated chicken wings.
Cold Dishes
1. A cheese board consisting of domestic and imported blues, cheddars, and goat cheeses, served with a variety of black and whole-grain breads.
2. Tiny bell tomatoes or tomato peppers stuffed with crabmeat salad.
3. A yogurt-cucumber dip; guacamole.
4. Small toasted bread wedges topped with sun-dried tomatoes, prosciutto, and olivata.
Hot an Spicy Nuts
1.5 cups vegetable oil
5 cups walnut halves
4 cups unblanched whole almonds
2 tablespoons plus 1 teaspoon Worchestershire sauce
0.5 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
1.25 teaspoon salt
Browse Dozens More Expert (but Easy) Recipes for Men in the Database >>
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