It’s Not Eggnog, It's Ponche a Crème
Ponche a Crème (also known as ponche de crème) is sometimes described as the spiked eggnog of Trinidad and Tobago. And sure, it has eggs in a creamy base, plus nutmeg, too. But this Christmas-time libation isn’t eggnog. It’s better.
As a kid growing up in south Trinidad, I had a less-than-discerning palate. However, when my mother made me a rum-free version of ponche a crème, I loved the way the flavors danced on my tongue.
Unlike eggnog, which can be cloying and one dimensional, ponche a crème has range. It sings with some of the island’s most intriguing ingredients: citrus, spice, rum. The heady presence of lime zest and the orangey-botanical notes found in Angostura bitters joust with the buttery heft of the eggs. Nutmeg’s warm and nutty sweetness leans into the drink’s creaminess.
Despite the amount of milk employed, the dairy isn’t the star of ponche a crème—it plays a supporting role and allows the real star, rum, to shine. Some believe that the “ponche” in ponche a crème comes from the addition of Puncheon rum: a hold-on-to-your-hat sort of spirit that registers at 75 percent alcohol by volume. When a glass of ponche a crème is poured over ice, the rum—clean, grassy and sweet—is the first thing on the nose, the last thing on the taste-buds. It lingers on the mind.
Like many culinary traditions, Ponche a Crème doesn’t have a tidy lineage that can be succinctly pegged to a specific moment in history. It harkens back to a time when commodities such as milk, eggs, and spirits were enjoyed solely by aristocrats. During Caribbean colonialism, when sugar and slavery anchored the British presence in the West Indies, the combination of dairy and spirits became a drink enjoyed only by the elite, emblematic of prosperity and good fortune.
Fast forward to today. In Trinidad and Tobago, ponche a crème has shed most of its colonialist pomp but not its appeal. It’s no longer a beverage for the well-heeled but a symbol of national pride, beloved by Trinidadians of all classes. Every December, a melodious calypso song swirls through homes, bars, and hotels:
On Christmas Day, when Big Ben alarm six thirty We are underway to begin this festivity Later in the evening, we passing through Picadilly Everybody dancing and singing the same melody. Drink a rum and a punch-a-crema, drink a rum...
We drink a rum. Rum allows the brutal past of plantation slavery to move from the periphery of one’s memory to the forefront. Rum could not exist without the enslaved Africans who harvested and refined the sugarcane, who produced the molasses, and who found that fermenting (and later distilling) turned the molasses into rum. And this is the higher art that ponche a crème embodies: in this one drink, the Caribbean’s past, pain, emancipation, and resurgence is tasted and celebrated. Ponche a crème is nothing like eggnog; it’s better.
Ponche a Crème
Originally Appeared on Epicurious
