Cranberry Punch

February 20, 2001

Recently we attended the final day of the Qantas Polo Championship.

I might add at this stage that my acquaintance with horses is very slight. As a young reporter I used to sit on the end of a telephone back at the office typing race results for my newspapers sports edition. For a while there I knew the names of a good many of the race horses in New Zealand.

In later years I've attended a few big race meetings. Once every couple of years is enough for me. I have developed a scientific form of betting which I am willing to share. It involves picking names I fancy, irrespective of their owners' form. The names might include the colour I am wearing, or remind me of a person or event. This highly successful method has seen me leaving the racecourse a couple of times with more money than I started out with. How good is that?

The only time I got up close and personal with a horse was on a family holiday about five years ago. My sons wanted to try horse riding so I booked them in for a trek and took them out in the countryside for their ride. It was one of those fabulous clear hot summer's days. The woman at the horse ranch asked was I sure I wanted to wait at the stables while the kids were riding? The thought of an hour in the heat versus a leisurely amble round the farm without having to weary my own legs seemed sufficiently appealing for me to pay over my money.

With the help of a couple of wooden steps, I managed to get my ancient form onto the horse's saddle. My supple sportsman sons endeavoured to look nonchalant at the sight of their aging mother trying to crash the horsey set.

The general idea was a trek through the woods, around the farm, down to the river, and back again. Nothing life threatening, nothing too demanding. But my "quiet" stead had the devil in him. He decided to run. I think trot might be the correct term. Parts of my body coming down hit parts that were still going up. I tried to remember the advice I'd been given about stirrups and reins but terror has a tendency to befuddle one's thinking. Just as quickly my horse slowed down and order was restored. But every few minutes he'd speed up again just to keep my adrenaline pumping.

Towards the end of the hour I was actually enjoying the ride. When it came time to get down off the horse my body was very reluctant. I think most of my bones and muscles had seized up. Two or three days later I was walking normally again.

Anyway, with this wealth of experience behind me, I was a willing spectator at the polo. I read somewhere recently that playing polo is like trying to play golf in an earthquake. I was mightily impressed. These chaps weren't just riding horses, they were also swinging mallets, avoiding crashes, whacking the ball and covering a huge amount of territory - at top speed, too.

Well, it was just lovely sitting there in the sun watching other people do all the hard work. There were chefs in our Qantas marquee producing hot and cold dishes, luscious bowls of summer berries and slabs of chocolate pie. A waiter kept plying us with bubbly and still wine and pitchers of iced water. And the chaps were out the front thundering up and down the pitch providing the entertainment.

A fellow came wandering past our corporate enclosure bearing a tray of drinks. They looked delicious. The Spouse decided he'd give one a try. What was it?

"Pimm's," said the man.

Pimm's - I hadn't heard of the stuff for years. My parents used to serve Pimm's No 1 Cup when they had parties back in the 1950s. We all started reminiscing. Someone said it was the sort of drink you got at sporting events like Wimbledon. Or the Henley regatta.

Or polo, too, it seemed.

I've done a bit of research. James Pimm devised Pimm's No.1 Cup in the 1840s, in his shellfish shop in the City of London. He later opened an oyster bar and concocted the drink as an accompaniment. It became so popular that in 1859 he started bottling the stuff.

Apparently his secret recipe - gin, flavoured with a unique combination of herbs and liqueurs - has remained unchanged and Pimm's is usually regarded as a summer afternoon mixer base. It's served with lemonade, soda or ginger ale, ice and fruit. Sweet by my standards, it's nevertheless a refreshing tipple on a hot day.

Another refreshing drink for sunny weather is cranberry punch. Cranberry juice has a nicely astringent quality that is quite thirst quenching. It is also helpful for those people who suffer from bladder infections. It helps block bacteria from adhering to the bladder wall. You needed to know that.

Cranberry Punch

1 litre cranberry juice
1/2 litre orange juice
1 litre ginger ale
200ml Triple Sec (optional)
250ml unsweetened pineapple juice

Mix all ingredients together in a large jug containing several ice cubes. Add some chopped hulled strawberries and cucumber slices.