Behold, the holiday drink: the foul-but-vital glue bonding “yuletide” and “cheer.” If it weren’t for a holiday cocktail from time to time, December would be as boring as September—and nothing happens in September. But what’s the signature holiday sling? The vital Christmas bracer? Its essential potation?
Surprisingly, there are only a few holiday-specific cocktails handed down during recorded history. It’s unclear if the ancients distilled peppermint schnapps during the construction of the pyramids, but considering the number and variety of holiday drinks that rely on that spirit, it’s a distinct possibility. Everything has schnapps.
Winter holidays also offer the strangest array of spirit-based drinks. No other season combines uncooked eggs (eggnog) with hot wine (mulled) and melted butter in alcohol (hot buttered rum). Like most Scottish delicacies, one can’t help but feel like necessity and outright dares beget many holiday drinks during their inception. Still, we tasked ourselves with finding the perfect holiday drink that combines holiday merriness with necessary potency to get you through the season. Call it the “12 Cocktails of Christmas.”
Poinsettias
First, we decided that 12 cocktails is nearly impossible. Simply put, that’s a lot of booze, and our poor livers have been through college once already. Second, most of the list we assembled were peppermint schnapps mixed with whatever was necessary to make the mint-flavored paint thinner palatable. The risk of someone going blind from that much cheap alcohol wasn’t a risk we were willing to take.
We settled on eight, because as Dan, our bartender, said, “Eight feels great.” Sure, whatever you say.
Poinsettias are really more of a brunch creation, but they were added to the list because of their requisite cranberry juice—it just feels Christmas-y. Much like the mimosa, a kissing cousin to the poinsettia, the cocktail relies on champagne’s tendency to mix well with fruit. In this case, cranberry juice masks well the cheap champagne we just bought. It’s always better to go with a dry champagne (brut or extra brut) rather than a sweet bottle because there’s enough sugar in the cranberry juice already to jump-start a dead car battery. Variations on the poinsettia call for an orange-flavored something along with the champagne and cranberry, and that’s where our journey started heading south.
Our guest Amy, who grew up in Georgia and fondly remembers poinsettias with Sunday brunch, says orange juice along with cranberry and champagne makes for a great cocktail. We heard her advice, but completely disregarded it, and added more alcohol by way of Cointreau. It was selfish of us to think only of ourselves here, but there’s a lot of schnapps coming, so it’s best to get blitzed early.
In retrospect, orange juice, cranberry juice and champagne would have made an easy-sipping cocktail that’s pleasing without being overwhelming, but we have a ways to go here.
Poinsettias were pleasant, but perhaps not the cocktail—or the brutal champagne hangover tomorrow—you’re looking for in the evening.
Verdict: Best for holiday brunches.
Christmas Cookie
Is that a plastic bottle of peppermint schnapps? Really, plastic? You couldn’t spring for something classier? I’d pay more to feel better in the morning. No? Well, let’s get to it then.
The Christmas Cookie is a concoction of Kahlua, Bailey’s and peppermint schnapps that tastes way better than it sounds. It’s a variant of the Oatmeal Cookie drink, which ditches the schnapps in favor of cinnamon whiskey, and sounds like a better idea right now. Poured in equal parts, the Kahlua, Bailey’s and schnapps mix together and perform a seductive and intoxicating dance together: the sweet milky liqueurs mask the brutal power of schnapps unbelievably well.
Nearly universally, the Christmas Cookie was lauded as the best holiday cocktail so far—not impressive considering we’ve had only two—but perhaps a Christmas-sweatered Brandon summed it up best when he said: “This is the type of drink that sneaks up on you and all the sudden you’re wrestling Greg from accounting in the living room.”
Well put, sir. We’re fans of the Christmas Cookie. As a matter of fact, we’ll have two.
Verdict: We’ve got a real contender here.
Mulled Wine
Hot wine? Hot wine. Not boiling hot, but warm enough to slow from swirl to sip. Mulled wine feels older than Christmas itself, and that’s because it probably is. Wine was an ancient drink, or something. But mulled wine smells and tastes like a dusty Christmas potpourri candle. Our first recipe called for a bottle of red, cognac and cloves—perhaps a zest of orange—that we promptly ditched when we found a bag of “Mulling Spices” at the grocery store that called for wine and much cheaper sweet vermouth. (Plus, if the wheels fall off this party, we can use the vermouth for Manhattans and to hell with everyone anyway.)
Upon inspection, the “mulling spices” appeared to be only cloves and dried orange peel and maybe a dusting of cinnamon from Kentucky, which makes us really pine for those Manhattans again. That was a great idea.
Mulled wine is simmered, not boiled, for long enough that the spices open up and release their holiday flavor. We found that leaving the wine on the stove for too long resulted in a bitter, vinegary taste that really ruined all the good feelings we had after the Christmas Cookie. Either that, or mulled wine just isn’t all that good.
Partygoer Melissa said a better bottle of grapes may have softened the abrupt taste of the mulled wine, but it was clear from the half-full glasses coming back: mulled wine and myrrh should be holiday traditions lost to time.
Verdict: Thanks but no thanks, Grampa.
Santa Shot
I think I’m starting to feel that second Christmas Cookie already.
The Santa Shot isn’t as menacing as it sounds. A layered shot composed of grenadine, creme de menthe and—yup, you guessed it—peppermint schnapps banks more on the idea that you drink more with your eyes than you do with your taste buds. Turns out, you don’t.
Dan, still our night’s bartender, carefully poured the layers of red grenadine, green creme de menthe and clear schnapps for a festive holiday drink that looked complicated, but in reality, was just a pain. That dedication to detail evaporated when he realized he had to make about 20 drinks in fewer than 5 minutes. That type of volume requires automation and we’re looking to wash down that gawdawful mulled wine already. I think I just chewed a whole clove. Get pouring, barkeep!
Like I said, the Santa Shot banks on the idea that you’re so taken aback by the drink’s layering that you forget what good alcohol should taste like. It’s possible that Robotussin (purple flavor) was benchmarked against the Santa Shot in terms of viscosity, sweetness and taste. The short of the long: Santa Shots are terrible.
Drinker Daniel—no relation to the bartender, at least I don’t think so—said he actually liked the Santa Shot, but he also liked the mulled wine so what does he know? Where can I get another one of those Christmas Cookies?
Verdict: I’d rather drink a lump of coal.
Eggnog
Eggnog gets passed over often as the lame-o holiday staple that looks like wallpaper paste and tastes like Quaker State.
But I’ll tell you something: You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s the dangerous holiday cocktail. The James Dean of Christmas booze, if you will. If the alcohol doesn’t get you sick then maybe salmonella will. Think about that.
Good nog requires uncooked eggs, cream and liquor made in a blender a few hours before your guests arrive because anything good is usually a pain in the neck. Nutmeg is the key ingredient here, because without it, you’re just drinking custard and that’s disgusting. You’ve got a lot of growing up to do, you know that?
Some recipes use bourbon, but we used dark rum and brandy because it was on sale and we’ll use it for buttered rum later; we’re not made of money here. The cocktail is mixed until frothy and best served ice cold.
I enjoyed the nog simply because it created a thick coat of armor around my recently assaulted taste buds. It’s worth making a pitcher ahead before guests arrive, but don’t make a lot, because no one alive should have more than two small cups of good eggnog. I can’t imagine actually getting drunk on this stuff. That’s gotta be more calories than a baker’s dozen Big Macs. Good thing I’m already quasi-drunk already.
Verdict: Great, but in small doses.
Candy Cane
What looks like Pepto Bismol and tastes like raspberry bubblegum? It’s this awful mess of a holiday cocktail. Mix berry vodka with hellspawn peppermint schnapps, creme de cacao (we have that?), half-and-half, grenadine and crushed peppermint candy and voila! you have the alcohol equivalent of candy cigarettes. Obviously this is a ploy to get you to drink more milk by the Dairy Farmers Association of America because I can’t understand what the half-and-half is doing here. That’s better left for the coffee I need tomorrow because I’m not getting out of bed on my own motivation after my third Christmas Cookie.
But the Candy Cane brings up an important point: Most holiday cocktails are some variant of a martini. That is to say, they use the same glass and that’s about it. The Candy Cane is one, but it’s a circus cocktail that’s probably best left for lightweights who shudder at the smell of alcohol. For us adults, drinks like the Red Hot Santa-tini (chili vodka and cocoa-rimmed glass) would be more satisfying. But I picked the Candy Cane, wanna fight about it?
I asked partygoer Jenny what she thought of the Candy Cane but I can’t read my writing: “CNN and Frank Ocean make me sand.” Couldn’t have said it better myself, Jenny. Thanks for the insight.
Verdict: There’s a reason the drinking age is 21 in this country.
Peppermint Stick
Perfect. More peppermint schnapps. This time paired with creme de cocoa and cream, the Peppermint Stick tastes a lot like something else I’ve had tonight. To be honest, it’s almost indistinguishable from some of the others we’ve had tonight because we’re all pretty well sauced at this point. Taken on merit alone, this would taste like holidays because of the schnapps. I’m not sure how cocoa gets cremed, but it sounds like a fun process, doesn’t it? Can you milk a vanilla bean too?
Partier Josh says the Peppermint Stick tastes “better than the Candy Cane, but maybe I’m confusing the two.” Along the way, we’ve discovered that nearly every incarnation of peppermint schnapps, creme duh mint and creme de cocoa will result in some sort of holiday cocktail. It’s best to have a beer or wine back, because sipping on one of these things when it gets warm is like drinking room-temperature butter. Speaking of butter, when do we get hot buttered rum? Dan?
Verdict: Who cares? It’s a creamy cocktail. I think the Christmas Cookie won anyway.
Hot Buttered Rum
Our night’s eighth and final cocktail never happened. Mostly because Hot Buttered Rum requires a compound butter consisting of brown sugar and spices, whipped at room temperature and chilled again. That’s a lot of planning and the bartender was late anyway. I can’t do everything here, people.
A pad of the compound butter is dropped into a glass and rum and hot water are poured over, I think. The resulting mixture is a slippery, warm and cuddly cocktail that no one has time for. To be sure, that sounds delicious, but not right now. Any more drinks for me and I’m cuddling up on cold bathroom tile.
And what are you still doing here? I’m sleepy.
Verdict: Is there any Christmas Cookie left in the shaker? No? Just give me the bottle of schnapps and go away.
Result
Our goal was to rank holiday drinks in order of flavor, drinkability and holiday cheer. We found that with enough peppermint schnapps and a deliberate disregard for your taste buds, holiday cocktails are a breeze. Thank goodness this only comes around once a year. Keep your voice down.
1. Christmas Cookie
2. Poinsettias
3. Eggnog
4. Everything else