My initial impulse was to treat you to a rant about the overwhelming lack of automobilic courtesy. I was awakened this morning by some idiot who was mad at being stuck behind a waiting cab and elected to lean on his horn, obviously not realizing that the sixteen three-story objects immediately to his left were houses full of sleeping or just-waking people. I was none too pleased, and that’s one suburbanite that now has a dent in his SUV, courtesy of a well-aimed rubber doorstop that I winged out the bedroom window.

Such rants, however, aren’t very Christmas-y, and if I’m purporting to be the voice of Baltimorean gentility and Old Maryland graciousness, it’s probably ill-advised to go throwing rubber doorstops, or at least to admit to throwing rubber doorstops.

Therefore, today’s pontification will address the glories of eggnog.

Since I’ve previously decried the unavailability of decent eggnog in modern bars, it seems appropriate that I should address the proper creation and consumption of this pleasant alcoholic milkshake. Far too many rely on the cartons of goo labelled “Egg Nog” that come from the supermarket. Those things are crimes against humanity, no matter how many little holly leaves are printed on the carton.

Let me state, further, that the eggnog formula I hyperlinked to a couple of days back is no more Baltimorean than the Sears Tower, although it’s claiming Chesapeake origin. Honestly, there really isn’t any “true” Baltimore eggnog, because everyone here is weirdly obsessive about the stuff and we all jealously guard our private recipes. There are probably 200,000 different versions in the city alone, and I’m not even going to get into what they do out in horse country. (Get your minds out of the gutter. We’re talking about drinks here.)

Several sources claim that “No true Baltimore eggnog contains Whiskey” and insist on the use of rum. To these people, I say “Huh?” Since everyone I know is either from this city or from Richmond, which isn’t too far away, or from Germany (where they think eggnog is some weird barbaric concoction), I can say with some authority that most Baltimoreans do, in fact, use whiskey. Rye whiskey, at that.

Unlike the more ceremonial trappings of mint juleps, eggnog doesn’t really require special glasses or a mixing ceremony. What it does require is freshly grated nutmeg. This isn’t an affectation; it really does taste different, and it’s much better than the pre-grated stuff that our friends at McCormick sell. (If you can’t get the whole nutmegs, though, by all means buy McCormick’s. I have some McCormick stock and you’ll line my coffers if you buy it. Or, buy Sauer’s and help to light that groovy sign on Richmond’s Broad Street.)

Eggnog is also therapeutic. Not only does it make you feel all warm and fuzzy (too much rye and you’ll have a fuzzy overload), it’s healthful and nourishing. I know this because I have a Victorian-era cookbook that lists eggnog in the section of nice, nourishing things to give sick people. (It’s a lousy recipe, though.)

I do insist on a little ceremony when making eggnog for actual purposes of entertaining. It involves a silver punch bowl and one month’s worth of Caroline County’s egg production, and I’m also not giving up that recipe because my grandfather would have kittens if he thought I’d divulged it. I will, however, give up my own personal “emergency eggnog” recipe, which really will do just as well and is more practical, as it makes about four glasses’ worth, instead of fifty.

Beat four eggs violently with about a cup of sugar. Your blender will do this really well and it’s fun to play with, too. Add half a pint of heavy cream and continue to beat until the stuff is pretty thick. Dilute with a half pint of milk. The point of beating the eggs and cream until it’s thick is so that it will be frothy, but you don’t want cake batter, here — that’s the logic behind thinning it with milk. Grate at least ½ of a whole nutmeg into the mix and blend. Let the stuff sit for a couple of minutes for the flavors to blend, then add about a cup of whiskey. If you’re not in Maryland you may have trouble finding rye whiskey, which is horribly unfashionable these days. No worries — bourbon works. Some people also add a bit of peach brandy, but I think it’s overkill. Pour into glasses, grate a little more nutmeg on top, and imbibe.

Nota bene: Eggnog sneaks up on people, so if you’re trying to get someone tipsy this holiday season, just add more whiskey — they’ll never know.