In the pantheon of old classic cocktails, one of the oddest, most labor intensive, and least popular today, has to be the bishop, and following that, the big, ultra bizarre riff called Lawn Sleeves, apparently named after the sleeves of a bishop. Yeah, can’t get any weirder or old school than that. In form, the bishop cocktail was basically mulled wine with roasted citrus, winter spices, and sugar. I’m thinking this was so popular possibly because the quality of wine wasn’t what we’re accustomed to today? I mean, you wouldn’t do this with good wine when you’d rather just drink it. Maybe old wine?

The Jerry Thomas version, dubbed Bishop (A La Prusse.) is given to us from his 1862 Bartender’s Guide with extensive instructions for what in my mind is not much of a drink at all:

A favorite beverage, made with claret or port. It is prepared as follows: roast four good-sized bitter oranges till they are of a pale-brown color, lay them in a tureen, and put over them half a pound of pounded loaf sugar, and three glasses of claret; place the cover on the tureen and let it stand till the next day. When required for use, put the tureen into a pan of boiling water, press the oranges with a spoon, and run the juice through a sieve; then boil the remainder of the bottle of claret, taking care that it does not burn; add it to the strained juice, and serve it warm in glasses. Port wine will answer the purpose as well as claret. “Bishop” is sometimes made with the above materials, substituting lemons instead of oranges, but this is not often done when claret is used. See recipe No. 38, in “The Manual for the Manufacture of Cordials, etc.,” at the latter part of this work.

This is followed by a much shorter version of the Bishop:

Stick an orange full of cloves, and roast it before a fire. When brown enough, cut it in quarters, and pour over it a quart of hot port wine, add sugar to the taste, let the mixture simmer for half an hour.

So it seems that mulled wine, as we know it, was once called a Bishop. Going down the line, there’s many variations depending on the type of wine used. The Archbishop substitutes claret for port, the Cardinal champagne, the Pope, Burgundy.

Oxford Night Caps by Richard Cook (1847: the first cocktail book written in English) describes the Bishop thus:

Make several incisions, in the rind of a lemon, stick cloves in the incisions, and roast the lemon by a slow fire. Put small but equal quantities of cinnamon, cloves, mace and all-spice, into a saucepan, with half a pint of water; let it boil until it is reduced one half. Boil one bottle of port wine; burn a portion of the spirit out of it, by applying a lighted paper to the saucepan. Put the roasted lemon and spice into the wine; stir it up well, and let it stand near the fire ten minutes. Rub a few knobs of sugar on the rind of a lemon, put the sugar into a bowl or jug, with the juice of half a lemon, (not roasted,) pour the wine into it, grate some nutmeg into it, sweeten it to your taste, and serve it up with the lemon and spice floating in it.

We’ve got some big procedures going on here. Lots of instructions. Also, “burning the spirit” out of it sounds like it’ll make this one real low ABV. It does sound quite delicious with all the roasting going on and now the wheels in my own head are turning a bit.

It takes a real odd turn with the Lawn Sleeves variation

Substitute Madeira or sherry for port wine, and add three glasses of hot calves feet jelly.

Uh, what?

I do remember a recipe from the Dead Rabbit Manual for Lawn Sleeves, sans calves foot jelly. Much the same as a bishop. Mulled wine, etc.

Lawn Sleeves Mix:
12 ounces Madeira
2 dashes Terra Firma Sarsaparilla tincture
1 ounce of fresh lemon juice
zest of one lemon
3/4 teaspoon ground cloves
3/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1/8 cup brown sugar
pinch ground mace

Combine all the ingredients in a 16-ounce jar. Allow to macerate for 3 days, then strain through a chinois into a fresh container. Due to the alcohol content, this 14 ounce mix should last indefinitely at room temperature.

To serve, warm in a saucepan, pour 5 oz. into a wine glass, dust with nutmeg, express a lemon peel over the top.

I mean, the big secret is that you combine any booze with the proper amounts of sugar and citrus, some spices, and you’ve got yourself a party. I feel like there’s some potential to mine here. I like the idea of roasting citrus as it’s something I haven’t done before, nor experienced in my mouth. I think the bishop too could be good, if properly fortified with whiskey, scotch, something brown…