Editor's Corner

Christine, this one’s for you!

Last week I was talking to one of my fellow former Washingtonians. We were talking about the clothes we grew up wearing, but somehow, we ended up on a completely different topic: Spodie. What is Spodie? Well, you may know it by a different name, such as Hairy Buffalo, Jungle Juice, Graveyard Punch, Wapatoola, Purple Jesus, Trashcan Punch, Hunch Punch, Purple Death, Colorless Death… and the list goes on.

This concoction, whatever you call it, is a potent cocktail. One of the “recipes” starts out with “Go out and buy a brand-new plastic garbage receptacle.” Yes, we’re already in danger with that, and we haven’t even put anything in there yet.

From there, you’re supposed to grab a block of ice, fruit punch, possibly some club soda, and then the games begin. Each guest brings whatever alcohol they have handy (Everclear and wine are mentioned in many “recipes”). Or, if you’re underage, you can bring whatever fruit you have handy and add it to the garbage can.

As the night progresses, so does the delicate bouquet of your spodie. Grab your red Solo cup or an empty jar, and scoop up a mouthful. Yee haw!

Here’s a Wiki recipe for “Dirty Hunch Punch,” though I think they all qualify as pretty dirty:

1 750 ml bottle Everclear

1 750 ml bottle coconut rum

½ 750 ml bottle vodka

16 ounces (473ml) pineapple juice

1 gallon (3.8 l) fruit punch

Orange and pineapple slices

Ice

Do you remember such a drink or event from your young adulthood? I think we might need to contact those guys who do the maps of different terms across America. Until then, here’s a little about the history of this drink from the article “The Twisted History of Jungle Juice” by Kenzi Wilbur.

They [KC – World War II U.S. servicemen] turned to fermenting anything they could with sugar in everything from coconuts to gasoline drums to homemade, patchwork stills. Depending on the “distiller,” the resulting beverage ranged from a fermented brew tinted golden-green from swamp water to a pale, 100-proof distillate. In any iteration, it was a ferociously potent liquid that, though less classy, was not unlike the punches of our lawn parties. It was a mixture vastly greater than the sum of its parts, consumed in quantity, drunk down quickly and with purpose. In what Anderson declares one of “the American service man’s greatest contributions,” jungle juice was born.

Kara Church

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