Dickensian trappings like wassail, flaming punch or mulled wine didn't figure at all in the Christmases of my Wisconsin childhood. But at some point during the day, the adults would all hoist a hot mug of Anglo-American nostalgia: a Tom and Jerry.

The drink has nothing to do with the cartoon cat and mouse, or Jerry Thomas, the celebrated New York barman of the 1800s, who often boasted of inventing it.

It is a rich holiday elixir, a relative of eggnog that flourished in America in the 19th and early 20th centuries, and is frequently (though not definitively) credited to Pierce Egan, the English chronicler of sports and popular culture.

The milky broth was once so popular that an ancillary trade in Tom and Jerry punch-bowl sets sprang up. You can still spot them in antiques stores, typically emblazoned with the drink's name in Old English type.

I don't know if my parents made a good Tom and Jerry; they used a mix found in grocery stores in Wisconsin in the colder months. But they made it like clockwork every December, as did many of the families we knew.

And until I went to college, I thought everyone made Tom and Jerrys at Christmas. Only then did I realize the drink was a provincial oddity that had somehow clung to life in Wisconsin and bordering states, while falling into obscurity everywhere else.


"I think one of the reasons that it's persisted in Wisconsin is the popularity of brandy-drinking here," said Jim Draeger, one of the authors of "Bottoms Up," a recently published survey of Wisconsin's historical taverns.


(The state, it should be noted, is also the incubator of that curious cocktail variation, the brandy old-fashioned.) "We're also known as the dairy state, and it's a dairy drink."

The book's other author, Mark Speltz, posed an additional theory: "I put it to Wisconsin's Germanic background. You get the people with the batter. It's cold here nine months out of the year."

John Dye, owner of the decades-old Bryant's Cocktail Lounge in Milwaukee, agrees on the weather argument.

"And I think trends just move a little slower here," he said. "They have their traditions here, and they stick to them."

Over the past decade, the Tom and Jerry has enjoyed a small resurgence outside the Midwest, as it has been rediscovered by mixologists eager to serve something traditional, yet different, during the holidays. Perhaps the best known example in New York is the delicious frothy soup that appears at Pegu Club in SoHo every holiday season as soon as the temperature takes a dive.

"Tom and Jerry has been in my heart ever since I worked at Blackbird for Dale," recalled Audrey Saunders, proprietor of the bar. She was referring to the renowned barman Dale DeGroff, who ran the bar program at the short-lived Manhattan restaurant Blackbird in 1999.

"That was my first experience with it. He said, 'OK, we're putting out the Tom and Jerry for Christmas.' I said, 'What's Tom and Jerry?' I got the history and the accouterments. The first time he put it out on the bar, it was, oh, my God, the magic of Christmas," Saunders said

For the recipe she serves at Pegu, Saunders cut back on the sugar. "I felt it could be cloying," she said. "My addition was the Angostura bitters. It helps dry it down and give it the structure it needs." She also adds vanilla. "It makes a huge difference."


One bar that was ahead of the curve is the Manhattan saloon that calls itself Tom & Jerry's. It opened in 1993, and owes its name to its vast collection of Tom and Jerry bowls, which were donated by Joe Wilfer, a printer and Wisconsin native who collected them. The tall, many-shelved back bar was built expressly to accommodate them.

Its name notwithstanding, Tom & Jerry's serves the drink only once a year, at an annual holiday party for which a number of Wilfer's Wisconsin friends make the trip. Joanna James, an owner of the bar, has no interest in making the drink more often.

"It's kind of labor intensive," she said.

Also, she doesn't like the stuff.

"It's too rich and heavy for me," she said, laughing. "But I can see why people would love it."


Recipe adapted from Audrey Saunders at Pegu Club in New York City.

Makes 1 drink, with batter for 10 drinks.


6 eggs (yolks and whites separated)

1 pound sugar

1 ounce anejo rum

3 tablespoons vanilla extract

3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground allspice

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

2 dashes Angostura bitters

For each drink:

6 ounces milk

1 ounce anejo rum

1 ounce VS cognac

To make batter: In bowl, beat egg yolks until they are as thin as water. Continuing to beat, gradually add sugar, rum, vanilla, cinnamon, allspice, nutmeg, cloves and bitters. In separate bowl, beat egg whites until stiff. Fold into yolk mixture. (Note: If not using immediately, refrigerate batter.)

To make drink: In small saucepan, bring milk to a boil. Meanwhile, warm 10-ounce Irish coffee mug in oven. Pour in 2 ounces batter. Add 1 ounce rum and 1 ounce cognac. Fill with boiling milk, stirring briskly with small whisk so batter and milk are well mixed. Dust with nutmeg.

Note: Because batter contains raw eggs, it should be refrigerated when not being used, at no higher than 41 degrees. Use batter only on day it is made; discard any leftovers.