It's the Most Wonderful (Warm) Punch of the Year

"Ponche Navideno merges holiday spice with tropical fruit to make one of the season's most festive sippers. The instant the door to a posada swings open, the scent of ponche Navideno finds its way out first: warm spices rising over bright citrus, piloncillo melting into burned honey sweetness, mingled with the sour notes of dried hibiscus and the soft aroma of poached ripe fruit."

"As the chef Ricardo Munoz Zurita writes in the great archive of Mexican cuisine, Larousse Diccionario Enciclopedico de la Gastronomia Mexicana, the drink's lineage began in ancient Persia as panch, a rose-scented fruit punch with pomegranate, lime and orange blossom water. It traveled on colonial ships, becoming Spanish ponche before landing in New Spain. Once in Mexico, it leaned on the generosity of the tropics with the addition of pineapple, plump guavas, fresh sugar cane, tamarind pods and, the most treasured fruit of all, tejocotes."

"As complex as ponche tastes, it's simple to put together as a welcome, warming drink for a crowd. The base starts with a tea of spices and hibiscus flowers that stain the ponche crimson. Dried fruit like prunes or raisins then infuse it with depth, along with piloncillo, an unrefined cane sugar. With this irresistible foundation, the classic version will appeal to anyone, but is especially meaningful to those who grew up sipping it."

Ponche Navideño is a traditional Mexican holiday punch served from early December through Jan. 6, poured at posadas and festive gatherings. The drink combines a spice tea infused with dried hibiscus, stained crimson, and a mixture of dried and fresh tropical fruits such as pineapple, guavas, tamarind, poached tejocotes, prunes or raisins, and fresh sugar cane. Piloncillo provides melted, burned-honey sweetness while hibiscus adds sour notes. The recipe is simple to prepare for a crowd and carries historical roots tracing back to Persian panch, through Spanish ponche, adapting to New Spain with local tropical ingredients and cherished tejocotes.

Read at cooking.nytimes.com