Ingredients

1 1/2 cups superfine sugar

2 quarts water

1 quart lemon juice

2 quarts rum -- dark rum

1 quart cognac

4 ounces brandy -- peach brandy

punch cup

Instructions:

There are many recipes for Fish House Punch, but this one has the best balance of authority and deliciousness.

In a large bowl, first dissolve the sugar in enough of the water to do the trick, then incorporate the lemon juice. Next, add the spirits and the rest of the water -- or as much of it as you wish to contribute (less in summer, to allow for meltage). Slip in as large a block of ice as you can procure. (Use your imagination -- if worse comes to worst, a mixing bowl full of water that's been frozen overnight will do the trick; run a little hot water on the outside of the bowl to unmold.) Let stand in a cool place for an hour or so before serving. Do not garnish with fruit, herb, vegetable, or paper umbrella.

For individual portions:

1 1/2 to 2 teaspoons superfine sugar

2 ounces spring water

1 ounce lemon juice

2 ounces dark Jamaican rum

1 ounce cognac

1/8 ounce peach brandy

The Wondrich Take:

Philadelphia in July. The City of Brotherly Love being at roughly the same latitude as Naples and sharing its summer climate, you will sweat. A lot. Especially if it's 1776, and you've been sitting all day in the States House (soon to be renamed Independence Hall), with air-conditioning a century and a half away and casual Fridays even more distant. But all is not lost: There is Fish House Punch.

Back in 1732, a selection of Philly bigwigs ganged together to start a club; they called it, for reasons best known to them, the State in Schuylkill Fishing Corporation. They built themselves a house on the banks of the "Skookul," as it's pronounced, concocted themselves an official punch, and set to it. Fish. Drink. Eat. (The club's still around, so they must have been doing something right.)

Their punch caught on pretty much right away, and small wonder: This refreshing tipple is so tasty that you'll want to put away about a quart of it, and so strong that after you do you'll forget where your pants are -- even if you happen to still be wearing them, which is by no means certain. But we digress.

Until you've tried Fish House Punch, you can't possibly appreciate the burdens under which the Founding Fathers labored as they struggled to get us out from under King George's size-twelves. Knowing what we do about early American drinking habits -- in 1792, the four million thirsty souls who called themselves Americans sopped up over eleven million gallons of hooch -- we can't imagine that the delegates kept the stuff at arm's length. So, if they were anything at all like us, they would have had to be drunk. Blotto. Absolutely embalmed.

But they weren't like us, were they? They weren't perfect (Lord knows) but, lacking our modern conveniences -- A.C., showers, Right Guard -- they were rugged sonsabitches, that's for sure, and nobody ever said they couldn't hold their liquor.

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