The finished punch was a vivid yellow, thanks to its high pineapple glop quotient, with fresh raspberries dancing in the foam like a flamenco dancer in a field of tulips. Tulips I say!
Per JT’s dictum, we served the punch to the staff in Champagne glasses. The first sip offered sweet-tart pineapple notes which brought out the funk in our Jamaican rum over the viscous, sawdusty mouthfeel.
There were issues with the mouthfeel.
Every sip started well, with bright, layered flavors, but was then followed by a wad of denuded pineapple fibers that clogged the mouth and made swallowing a chore. Not a great way to enjoy a cocktail. The flavor was amazing, but there’s no way anyone would want to drink this.
Which brings us to a confession, dear reader: we violated the prime directive. We departed the text. We strained the punch. In our defense, we know Jerry Thomas owned a strainer, and this drink is straight up un-imbibable without straining.
That and the fact that the clarified version of our Pine-Apple Punch was astounding, to the point of being dangerously chuggable.
We know it is assuming a lot, but we are going to go out on a limb and say that Jerry Thomas did not intend for his customers to chew his cocktails. And that proof-readers may have been in short supply in 1862.