Nog

Via Chow

The season of egg nog has ended.

It ushered in December, sipped while jostling elbows under the cracktastic light spectacular at Rolf's bar — New York's most infuriating and magical Christmas spot. Clutching overpriced store-bought egg nog mixed with liquor, us diehards held firm at the bar eyeing potential usurpers with the death stare, avoiding the food, slightly dazed by the profusion of garlands, tchotchkes, and hollow-eyed porcelin dolls hanging from the ceiling. Yet, it's perfect. Standing in a halo of lights and holiday baubles, everything seems right.

Via Jared The NYC Tour Guide

And then a few weeks later, we celebrated at home with home-made egg nog. Egg nog seems to date back to at least 1600s England, where the fresh ingredients of cream and eggs made it a quaff available only to the monied classes. Those with access to fresh dairy promptly mixed it with brandy or Madeira or even sherry. Ancestors of egg nog are posset, a mixture of eggs, milk, and ale or wine, or the egg flip, where similar ingredients are tossed between two glasses until frothy.

But egg nog really hit its stride in the American colonies, where plentiful land meant people of more modest means had access to fresh dairy. Rum, known as grog — started coming into play and things started getting awesome. Rum was part of the Triangular Trade from the Caribbean; so it was more affordable than brandy or other European spirits. Egg-and-grog became egg nog, though some argue the name derives from the word "noggin," a small wooden mug used to serve drinks in taverns. Nog is an old English word for a kind of strong beer (hence noggin). Egg and grog in a noggin? Rum ran a little dry during the Revolutionary War, but the homegrown bourbon was a willing and able substitute.

Via BlissTree

It's been a good run this past month, with egg nog in coffee, egg nog on cozy evenings glazed in brandy; its heft pleasant in the hand. And just as quickly as this indulgence came calling, it is gone again for the year. And the cool calm of January sets in, where a simple hot tea or a bourbon alone calms the spirit with its singularity, its clarity.

The holiday season has a slight mania to it, where every fun event is a bulwark against the harrying craziness of end-of-the-year loose ends threatening to form a choke hold. And so those festive parties and rituals become ever more charged, like the old pagan winter festivals whose burning yule logs warded off the darkness of endless night. The holiday lights gleam bright, we are warmed, and restored, and by the new year, we are recalibrated, free of both stress and indulgence, a calm slate ready for new adventures and new cocktails.

Happy New Year.