Author: The Hippo Press

Wherein John Fladd presents “TannenBombed – A High-Proof Christmas Card in Eight Parts.”

A note on measurements: For non-liquid ingredients, like sugar and stuff, I measure by volume and weigh it as I go. In general when I cook, I almost entirely measure ingredients by weight, when possible, especially with baking, because I find it’s more precise. For those who prefer to wing it with cups and teaspoons, I’ve approximated those.

Part 1:

Saint Nicholas

A lot of people conflate Saint Nicholas with Santa Claus, which is, at best, overly simplistic and, at worst, potentially dangerous. He was not a man to take lightly.

Nicholas of Myrna is one of the early Catholic and Orthodox saints — really early, like Roman Empire-early. Apparently, “jolly” was not really one of his outstanding character traits. Nicholas was more of a roll-up-the-sleeves-of-your-robes-and-knock-some-sense-into-them kind of saint. According to the Saint Nicholas Center (stnicholascenter.org), during his lifetime he was best known for chasing demons out of trees with an ax — apparently demonic possession of trees was a thing in the fourth century — and punching a fellow theologian in the face at the Council of Nicaea.

“But, surely,” you say, “he must have had something to do with children. He’s the Patron Saint of Children, after all.”

Funny you should ask, actually. Yes, Saint Nicholas is the Patron Saint of Children — as well as thieves, brewers, sailors and wolves — because of a light, charming, amusing* anecdote. (*Actually, it’s pretty much the opposite of light or charming.)

It seems that a rogue butcher, or maybe an innkeeper – there are several versions of the story — kidnapped three children and cut them up to make into sausage. Worried parents asked Nicholas to get their children back for them. According to the story, Nicholas went to the butcher’s workshop and called for the children to come home with him, whereupon the body parts sprang up from various vats, reassembled themselves into little boys and followed him back to their village. The moral of the story, I suppose, is that even in the Late Roman Empire some things were off the table — literally, in this case.

A more cheerful story — and probably the connection with Santa Claus — is the story of The Golden Balls:

It seems that a wealthy man fell on hard times and didn’t have any money to provide his three daughters with dowries to attract good husbands. He was in the process of preparing to sell them into prostitution — because of course he was — when Nicholas saved the day by throwing three gold balls down their chimney, where they landed in the girls’ shoes, or possibly their stockings.

You would think that this would be enough to make him the Patron Saint of Brides or Stockings or maybe Balls, but in fact it landed him the gig as Patron Saint of Pawn-Brokers. (This is why most pawn shops have a sign with three golden balls by their front doors.)

Pawnbroker Cocktail

• 2 ounces apple brandy — I like Laird’s Applejack
• 1 ounce Goldschläger — a cinnamon schnapps with flecks of actual gold in it
• 1 ounce fresh-squeezed lemon juice

Combine all ingredients with ice in a cocktail shaker.

Shake.

Strain into a small, fancy glass. As you drink this, think about how much you’d have to pay someone to take one of your kids off your hands. You’ll come away with a new appreciation for Nicholas.

This is a take on a classic cocktail called a sidecar. Think of it as a cousin to a margarita, but with brandy instead of tequila, and, in this case, a sweet, cinnamony associate. The taste of this drink is very cinnamon-forward, but, as with Saint Nicholas himself, do not underestimate it. The Goldschläger is sweet and a bit candy-like but clocks in at over 80 proof. If you had too many of these too quickly, you could find yourself threatening your houseplants with a spatula, trying to rid them of malignant spirits. (In fact, you are probably just over-watering them.)

Part 2:

Drinking punch with Charles Dickens

Charles Dickens was a big fan of punch — proper punch, with something sweet, something sour, and an alcoholic kick that would stun a musk ox. During the Victorian period, being able to serve a self-respecting punch was a status symbol for any host. Today we think of the term “punch drunk” in the sense of a boxer who is on his last legs, but the whole reason that phrase ever caught on in the first place is that everyone was familiar with the concept of being drunk on punch.

Apparently, Dickens’ favorite punch was a version of something called a Smoking Bishop, which was traditionally heated by lighting it on fire or, better yet, plunging a red-hot poker into it, which frankly seems a bit intimidating. Fortunately he provided an alternative.

In A Christmas Carol Dickens makes several passing references to punch but never gets specific about what, aside from lemons, should go into a decent Christmas punch. (The lemons themselves are a bit of a tell, though. When you think of what an extravagance lemons would have been to a man like Bob Cratchit, you get a glimpse into what a special occasion punch-drinking was.) A better guide comes from Our Mutual Friend:

‘You don’t use lemon in your business, do you?’ asked Wegg, sniffing again.

‘No, Mr Wegg,’ said Venus. ‘When I use it at all, I mostly use it in cobblers’ punch.’

‘What do you call cobblers’ punch?’ demanded Wegg, in a worse humour than before.

‘It’s difficult to impart the receipt for it, sir,’ returned Venus, ‘because, however particular you may be in allotting your materials, so much will still depend upon the individual gifts, and there being a feeling thrown into it. But the groundwork is gin.’

‘In a Dutch bottle?’ said Wegg gloomily, as he sat himself down.

‘Very good, sir, very good!’ cried Venus. ‘Will you partake, sir?’

‘Will I partake?’ returned Wegg very surlily. ‘Why, of course I will!”

— Charles Dickens, Our Mutual Friend

So let’s take a stab at a Cobbler’s Punch.

Cobbler’s Punch

• 3 lemons, large and as deeply yellow as you can find. (Your best bet will be to look in the seafood department of your supermarket.)
• ¾ cup white sugar
• 1 750-ml bottle of very cold gin
• ½ cup / 4 ounces limoncello
• 3 12-ounce bottles of extremely bubbly seltzer, chilled. Topo Chico would be excellent for this.

Peel the lemons and muddle the rind with the sugar at the bottom of a punch bowl.

Turn your back on the lemon sugar and find something else to do for three hours — maybe watch the first two Die Hard movies (see below).

Shortly before your guests arrive, squeeze the lemons. You’re aiming for ¾ cup of juice. Add it to the lemon sugar in your punch bowl, and stir to dissolve. You will be surprised at how much moisture the lemon peels have released already, preparing the sugar for its final disposition.

Add the other ingredients and stir.

Add an extremely large block of ice. If you have a small Bundt pan, make it in that. It will be a fancy ring of ice with a lot of surface area to chill the punch. Garnish with thin slices of lemon.

The key to this punch is the lemons. Dickens was right about that. It might be tempting to try rounding out the flavor with triple sec, or elderflower liqueur, or something that isn’t lemony. Don’t do it. The lemons know what they’re doing; don’t get in their way. Limoncello is the way to go on this.

The second key to this punch is extreme cold. Store your gin in the freezer for a day or so ahead of time. It won’t freeze, but it will get shockingly cold. Chill your seltzer. If it’s really cold outside on the night of your party, make this on the patio. Or balcony. Or fire escape.

Part 3:

Is Die Hard a Christmas Movie?

Yes. Yes, it is.

The Nakatini

• 2 ounces Szechuan peppercorn-infused gin (see below)
• 1½ ounces ginger syrup
• 1 ounce fresh-squeezed lemon juice

Combine all ingredients with ice in a cocktail shaker. Shake like a building that has just had a bomb go off on the roof, taking out a helicopter full of overconfident federal agents.

Strain carefully into a martini glass — carefully, as if the gin were an international terrorist with unknown motivations.

Drink it. You have two options here:

(a) Knock it back blithely, overconfident in your ability to handle factors well beyond your understanding. This might not end well for you, but fortune favors the bold. Sometimes.

(b) Sip it gingerly (get it?) like a wounded hero hobbling across the floor with feet full of broken glass.

Every now and then you run across somebody who has never seen Die Hard. If you ever managed to sit them down and force them to watch it, they would almost certainly start out skeptical:

Them: “Bruce Willis? Really? But he’s so—”

You: “Shhh. Be patient.”

After half an hour they will slip into a stunned silence.

Approximately an hour and a half, two explosions and 73 shootings later (I looked it up) they will be sitting, mouth agape, in a sort of a fugue state.

You: “So?”

Them: “Wow. I, uh, I had no idea. Um — wow.”

You: “Do you want to watch it again?”

Them: “Yes. No. Uh, my brain can’t — um —”

You: “Will you ever be the same, from this point forward?”

Them: “I really don’t think so.”

That’s what drinking a Nakatini is like. Szechuan peppercorns are delicious, spicy — not too hot — and a little citrusy. They go well with the aromatics in gin. Gin, in its turn, goes extremely well with lemon, which goes with the citrusness of the peppercorns. All of it marries well with ginger.

But Szechuan peppercorns — and this is the part that is just like watching Die Hard for the first time — have a numbing effect on your lips and tongue. Your mouth will feel exactly like it just watched a wounded cop swing through a window on the end of a fire hose.

Szechuan Pepper-Infused Gin

• 1 cup / 8 ounces / 237 ml. good-but-not-very-expensive gin
• 1 tablespoon Szechuan peppercorns

Combine the gin and Szechuan peppercorns in a small bottle. Forcing the peppercorns through the neck of a funnel with a chopstick will break them up just enough.

Cap the bottle and shake it. Let the mixture infuse for 24 hours, shaking it periodically.

Strain and rebottle.

Part 4:

A Christmas Drink for Guys and Dolls

Before Tom and Jerry were a cartoon, they were a Very Serious Drink.

As described by Damon Runyan:

This hot Tom and Jerry is an old-time drink that is once used by one and all in this country to celebrate Christmas with, and in fact it is once so popular that many people think Christmas is invented only to furnish an excuse for hot Tom and Jerry, although of course this is by no means true. … Now of course Good Time Charley and I are not using rum in the Tom and Jerry we are making, as we do not wish to do anything illegal. What we are using is rye whisky that Good Time Charley gets on a doctor’s prescription from a drug store, as we are personally drinking this hot Tom and Jerry and naturally we are not foolish enough to use any of Good Time Charley’s own rye in it. The prescription for the rye whisky comes from old Doc Moggs, who prescribes it for Good Time Charley’s rheumatism in case Charley happens to get any rheumatism, as Doc Moggs says there is nothing better for rheumatism than rye whisky, especially if it is made up in a hot Tom and Jerry.

— Damon Runyon, Dancing Dan’s Christmas, Damon Runyon Omnibus

The good news about a Tom and Jerry is that it doesn’t require any preparations that need to be made days in advance. Do not be overconfident, however — making a credible T&J requires a cool eye and steady nerves.

Tom and Jerry Batter

• 3 eggs, separated
• ¼ cup powdered sugar
• ¼ teaspoon freshly ground allspice
• ¼ teaspoon cinnamon
• ¼ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Beat egg whites to stiff peaks.

Separately, beat the egg yolks, powdered sugar and spices until they lighten in color. (The mixture will look like whole-grain mustard, but not as angry.)

Carefully fold the egg whites into the yolk mixture, being careful not to deflate them. This is a lot like making a soufflé, if that means anything to you. Beat about 1/4 of the egg whites into the mixture, just to lighten it up a bit. Then add the rest of the whites, 1/3 at a time, folding them in gently, until everything is evenly mixed but still light and fluffy. You’ll have 3 or 4 cups of the final mixture when you are done.

Set this mixture aside. It is your “batter.”

Tom and Jerry

• 2 Tablespoons / ¼ cup “batter” mixture
• 2 Tablespoons / ¼ cup “batter” mixture
• ¾ ounces brandy or 2 ounces rye whiskey
• 1½ ounces dark rum — Myers, in this case

Hot milk

Add “batter” and alcohol to a mug. The 1935 edition of the Mr. Boston Bartender’s Guide is explicit about the importance of making a Tom and Jerry in a heated mug, so fill yours with boiling water for a few minutes before mixing the actual drink. Remember to pour the water out before adding the other ingredients. That may seem obvious, but might become less so after two or three Tom and Jerrys.

Top with hot milk. (How hot? I like mine to be around 175º F / 80º C.)

Stir to combine.

Garnish with fresh-grated nutmeg. Seriously, if you’ve never grated your own nutmeg, try it. Just smell a little of it in the palm of your hand. It will be a revelation.

I tried this recipe both ways — with rum and with rye. I’m generally a rum guy, and even Damon Runyon’s character admits up front that a Tom and Jerry is best with rum. On the other hand, I’d feel foolish to go to all this trouble and end up with rheumatism.

The rye recipe is completely delicious. The spiciness of the rye plays really well with the black pepper. There is a whiskeyness to it that feels extremely Runyonesque.

Tom and Jerry 1 – rheumatism 0.

The rum recipe knocked me back on my heels. I have to go with the 1930s hoodlum logic on this. A rum Tom and Jerry — or three — would make for a truly magical Christmas. The deep, sweet muskiness of the rum adds a layer of decadence to the whole affair that really could convince you to break into a showgirl’s apartment dressed as Santa Claus and leave her stolen diamonds. (See Damon Runyan, above.)

(If the idea of using a raw egg in a cocktail is a little too 1930s hoodlumish for you, some supermarkets carry pasteurized eggs. Alternatively, you can pasteurize your own by heating them in a water bath at 135 degrees for two hours. If you have a sous vide apparatus, this is an excellent use for it. If you don’t, you know what to ask for this Christmas.)

Part 5:

Giving the Joint Some Atmosphere

Nick: “Hey, look mister, we serve hard drinks in here for men who want to get drunk fast. And we don’t need any characters around to give the joint atmosphere. Is that clear? Or do I have to slip you my left for a convincer?”

Nick(Sheldon Leonard)– It’s a Wonderful Life, 1946

I was a senior in college before I saw It’s a Wonderful Life. In my defense, this was in the mid-’80s, before the movie was on TV, demand and video quite so ubiquitously.

We were screening it in the school’s dining hall. The music swelled, Zuzu said her line about angels getting their wings, and the movie ended. Someone turned on the lights, and the other students all got up, put on their coats and left, leaving me and a buddy of mine sitting there, crying like French soccer players.

I hadn’t even realized that JP was at the movie. Apparently, he hadn’t ever seen the movie before either, because he got up and walked across the room to me, tears streaming down his face.

“Are you OK?” he asked me.

I nodded between sobs.

“It’s just that he had … such … a … hard … life!”

JP understood.

“But … it … was ….” At this point, we both broke down completely.

“…A WONDERFUL life!” he wailed. We hugged.

To this day I can get through the entire movie pretty well until that last scene, when the whole town shows up to give Jimmy Stewart money, and Martini, the bar owner, shouts, “I broke open the juke-a-box!”

**Sniff**

Dang it.

Pottersville Special

• 1½ ounces rye
• ¾ ounce sweet vermouth
• ⅛ teaspoon orange bitters

Shake over ice.

Pour into a rocks glass.

Drink, garnished with sentimental tears.

This is delicious, with a hard edge. It makes you realize that you may have bought that rye to make the Damon Runyan drink but you are starting to really like it. It has an emotional whiskeyness to it, but sweetened and tempered by the vermouth and bitters. This is what you’d drink if the bank examiner were coming to serve a warrant for your arrest, but if you weren’t quite ready for prison yet.

Part 6:

Big Man on Krampus

“The Feast of St. Nicholas is celebrated in parts of Europe on 6 December. On the preceding evening of 5 December, Krampus Night or Krampusnacht, the wicked hairy devil appears on the streets. Sometimes accompanying St. Nicholas and sometimes on his own, Krampus visits homes and businesses. … Unlike North American versions of Santa Claus, in these celebrations Saint Nicholas concerns himself only with the good children, while Krampus is responsible for the bad. Nicholas dispenses gifts, while Krampus supplies coal and the Ruten bundles (birch rods to beat the children with). It is customary to offer a Krampus schnapps, a strong distilled fruit brandy.”

— Wikipedia page on Krampus

Dieter Krampus snuck a look at his watch. He had a couple of minutes before he and The Boss had to be at the next house.

He set down his sack of birch switches and stood up straight, stretching the kinks out of his back. All in all this was a pretty good gig, but Dieter had to admit it was harder on his body than it used to be. He leaned his head from side to side, stretching out his neck, and was rewarded with a couple more popping sounds — a task that was aided significantly by the weight of the enormous horns growing out of the top of his head. He’d be happy to shed them in a couple of days. Yes, they itched like the devil as they grew back in, but he couldn’t imagine hauling that weight around all year.

“Herr Krampus?”

It didn’t matter how long they had worked together, The Boss was always formal.

Dieter was getting tired. It had been a long night. He let out a grunt as he bent over and picked up his sack. He must have groaned a little louder than he intended, because the saint called out softly to him again, this time with a little encouragement.

“Time for some schnapps, don’t you think, Herr Krampus?”

Say what you will about The Boss, nobody understood the concept of Carrot and Stick better than he did.

“On my way, Mein Herr.”

Switches and Coal

The legends and traditions are pretty clear: The traditional drink for a Krampus is a straight shot of schnapps. That’s great if you’re putting in a hard night of terrifying children, but what about when your shift is over and you get a chance to put your hooves up? You’ll want something refreshing but with some authority.

This is a take on a classic drink called a Black Satin, but boilermaker-y:

• 3 ounces very dark beer — stout or porter
• 3 ounces brut Champagne
• 2 ounces of the darkest rum you can get your hands on — I like Cruzan Black Strap

Gently pour the very dark beer into a tall glass.

Float the Champagne on top of it. Pour it over the back of a spoon. It will not make visibly separate layers, but it makes a difference.

Pour a shot of very dark rum, then drop it into the mixture.

Drink, while complaining to your husband about your day.

We all understand, intellectually, that grapes are a fruit, but it is still shocking how fruity and chocolatey this drink is. It is utterly delicious and just what you want to drink if you’ve had a hard day with the kids. It goes down dangerously smoothly.

Part 7:

The Ferociousness of a Puerto Rican Grandmother

Over the past several years, as I have researched my family tree, the most joy has come — hands down — from a branch of my father’s family from the hill country in Kentucky.

Case in point: my Great Uncle Wirt, who was ridden out of town on a rail and ended up in upstate New York, and was arrested for fishing in a state park.

With dynamite.

I mention this to help illustrate an (admittedly shaky) analogy between Kentucky and Puerto Rico. Both are well-known for their fine, sophisticated liquor — upscale bourbon near Churchill Downs, and golden añejo rum on the beaches and resorts of Puerto Rico. But as you move up into the hills in either place, both the people and their alcohol become somewhat alarming.

It would be rude to turn down your cousin Cletus’ offer of a taste of his moonshine — acknowledging all the while that you would be seriously rolling the dice to drink it. In the same vein, there are Puerto Rican grandfathers who make a sugarcane liquor called pitoro that can strip the chrome off a trailer hitch.

The traditional holiday drink in Puerto Rico in December is a rich, creamy concoction called coquito. Some people describe it as “Puerto Rican eggnog,” but that’s misleading; there are no eggs in it. There is, however, an alarming amount of pitoro.

Ask any Puerto Rican about coquito and they will get misty-eyed remembering their mother or grandmother’s recipe — much like a Southerner’s relationship with biscuits — but they will almost always finish with a statement like, “But if you go up into the hills, their coquito is really scary!”

A friend of mine tells me that each family has its own recipe for coquito. “At each house it tastes different,” she says. Every mother or grandmother has two secret ingredients that they use to make their version. “Some of my friends’ mothers added ice cream to make their coquito creamier,” my friend Myrta says. “My mother,” she adds, pausing dramatically, then continuing almost in a whisper, “uses pistachio ice cream.”

The second secret ingredient is almost always extra alcohol.

Let’s be really clear here: This will not be as good as Myrta’s mother’s coquito. It will be really, really good, but for the real stuff you’ll have to go to Puerto Rico.

Coquito

• 1 15-ounce can cream of coconut (the presweetened, incredibly artificial kind you would use for dorm-room piña coladas)
• 1 14-ounce can condensed milk
• 1 14-ounce can coconut milk (Warning: If you even think of using any low-fat ingredients in coquito, you risk angering vengeful Caribbean spirits. I wouldn’t risk it.)
• 1 cup / 8 ounces overproof rum (I like Gosling’s Black Seal 151.)
• ½ cup water
• 1 cup pistachio ice cream
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 2 cinnamon sticks
• 2 whole cloves
• 1 pinch ground cinnamon
• 1 pinch freshly grated nutmeg

Add all ingredients except the cinnamon sticks and cloves to a blender. Blend on low speed for 1 to 2 minutes.

Strain into one large, or two large-ish, jars. Add the whole spices, seal and shake.

Refrigerate for at least overnight, or better yet, 2 to 3 days.

Your finished coquito will be pretty thick, so you will probably want to thin it with a little water, but that said, if you want to tackle it full-octane, more power to you.

Coquito is very everything — very sweet, very coconutty and very boozy. This is not for someone with mixed feelings about the holidays. It is for fully embracing the season and singing loudly— louder with each glass of coquito. I’m not saying you will necessarily end up waking your wife at 2 a.m. singing “Oh-hoe tie-eye-dings of CUH-HUM-FORT AND JOY!”, wavering on the lowest note you can force out of your chest.

But you might.

Part 8:

“Yeah, But What if I’m a Teetotalling, Gluten-Free Vegan?”

I think the best inspiration for this challenge is Hermey the Elf, from the Rankin-Bass Christmas classic Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. If you don’t remember Hermey, he is the tacitly closeted elf who, unhappily working on Santa’s toy assembly line, yearns to be a dentist. After being mocked and punished for not being as butch as the rest of the elves (Yes, I know. What can I say? It was the ’60s.), he runs away to seek his fortune, singing one of the greatest “I Want” songs in movie history:

Hermey: “Why am I such a misfit? I am not just a nitwit. You can’t fire me, I quit. Seems I don’t fit in.”

Like every character in the Rudolph story, he is eventually provisionally accepted once he can prove himself useful to a judgmental society.

You could take several lessons from Hermey’s adventures:

Work hard and be loyal to your friends, and the Universe will reward you.

Inspire respect by ripping the teeth out of your enemies with pliers.

Don’t wait for the world to accommodate you; create your own destiny — or, in this case, your own festive holiday beverage.

Let’s focus on the third one, shall we?

Caffeine for Hermey

• 2 cups almond milk
• ⅓ cup white sugar
• 1½ cups whole coffee beans
• pinch of salt
• 1 cinnamon stick
• 1 cup non-dairy half & half
• 1 tablespoon vanilla

Combine the almond milk, sugar, salt, coffee beans and cinnamon stick in a small saucepan. Heat to just below a simmer, approximately 174 degrees, stirring occasionally. The sugar should dissolve completely.

Remove from heat, cover, and allow to steep for two hours.

Strain the mixture to remove the coffee beans and the cinnamon stick. Wash your hands and squeeze the coffee beans to wring every bit of flavor from them.

Add the non-dairy half & half and the vanilla. Stir to combine.

Chill for 2 to 3 hours.

Drink with a proud heart and kind thoughts for Hermey.

“This is really good and all, but isn’t it just iced coffee?”

I can’t help noticing that you’re on your third glass of it.

“Well, that’s only because it’s so creamy. It tastes … friendly.”

I wouldn’t know. There isn’t any left.

“Uh, yeah … Merry Christmas.”

You too, Petal.

Featured Photo: Courtesy photo.

Skydiving without a plane, surfing the indoor waves and other ways to get outside your comfort zone.

Looking for adventure? This week, our reporters go outside their comfort zone to get the thrill of new experiences.

Actually, some of these adventures started way before this week. Matt and Angie first started looking into their subjects way back in early 2020 and this story was slated to run in the issue of March 19, 2020 — an issue which ended up focused on a whole different type of new experience.

But now, nearly two years later, who couldn’t use a little adventure that is purely fun? So this week, Matt Ingersoll brings you skydiving and surfing — without leaving Nashua. Angie Sykeny takes a more daring (and physically challenging) approach to fitness. And Meghan Siegler gets to break stuff.

THE SKY’S THE LIMIT

Indoor skydiving and surfing at Nashua’s SkyVenture

By Matt Ingersoll

I’ve never jumped out of an airplane, nor hung ten on a surfboard — two basic facts about myself that made a trip to SkyVenture NH in Nashua seem fitting for this assignment.

SkyVenture opened in 2006, first offering indoor skydiving before adding indoor surfing in 2013 (under the name Surf’s Up NH). The top of the facility is visible from the bustle of Daniel Webster Highway, and while I had driven by thousands of times but had never set foot inside prior to writing this story, I have to admit that it had always intrigued me.

Owners and founders Laurie and Rob Greer told me their customers are usually one of two significant pools of people — experienced skydivers (or surfers) who are looking to improve their skills, or anyone who has ever been curious about what it’s like to try either one. I’m in the latter. I grew up always being around the water, and while I don’t exactly love heights, I’d be lying if I said I’ve never wondered what skydiving is like (not enough to actually do it, mind you, but hey, I’m game to try a safe, not-so-far-from-the-ground simulated version).

A wave of nervous excitement passed through me as I arrived in early March 2020 to try out skydiving and surfing. The staff highly recommends booking your sessions in advance, due to the time slots filling up fast, and also asks that you show up at least 30 to 45 minutes beforehand to complete a preliminary safety class.

When I reported to the front desk, I was directed to a series of touch-screen tablets mounted in the lobby, where all participants must sign a waiver (or, if you’re under 18, the parents of the child sign it). For safety reasons, there actually are a fair number of restrictions for both skydiving and surfing. For example, you must weigh under 250 pounds to skydive (275 pounds to surf), you must not be under the influence of any drugs or alcohol, and you must not be pregnant — none of which disqualified me. There is an additional attraction next to the wave machine called the “fish pipe,” or a large rotating barrel you climb into that simulates the feeling of a very fast and endless water slide. Because of the motion associated with it, the fish pipe is not an activity for people with high blood pressure, prior head injuries or epilepsy. This is all part of the waiver that customers need to read carefully before they can participate.

Sky high

After I signed the waiver, I headed upstairs for my skydiving session, which began with the safety class. It was here where I met Kevin Drivas, my instructor, who has more than a decade of skydiving experience (you know, the real, jump-out-of-an-airplane kind) to his credit.

Drivas explained to me that because he and I wouldn’t be able to hear each other over the sound of the wind in the tunnel, we would communicate with each other through a few hand signals. If I forgot the signals, a teleprompter was also there to provide instructions during my flight. Drivas then demonstrated the way I should position my body as I entered the tunnel — holding both arms out in front of me, with my hands flat and my legs straight. It was also important that I not jump into the wind tunnel, but rather slowly lean into it as I let the force of the wind carry me up.

Because I was the only one participating for this particular session, the class only took a few minutes before it was time to get into my “skydiving” gear. Drivas handed me a pair each of elbow and knee pads that I dutifully put on, followed by laced sneakers, a heavy purple and black jumpsuit that I comfortably wore over my clothes, a helmet, a pair of safety goggles that replaced my glasses, and a pair of earplugs. I was ready to learn how to fly.

I followed Drivas a few feet away to the enclosed wind tunnel, and that was when that wave of nerves rose in my stomach again. I think it was the fact that I wasn’t going to be attached to any harness or mechanism that made me the most nervous — just suspended literally in midair inside a 40-foot tunnel by recirculatory winds rushing at more than 100 miles per hour. According to the Greers, professional skydivers must train in an indoor facility such as this one to prepare for competitions, so I think it was that fact in and of itself that racked my nerves a bit.

Insert the cliched phrase “don’t look down,” as that definitely applied here. I found myself actively trying not to do just that as I leaned into the rushing air with my arms out in front of me.

A split second later, I felt my body rising until suddenly my feet were off the ground. I felt Drivas’s hands around my torso as he steered me to the center of the wind tunnel.

Now admittedly, it took a few tries before Drivas could let go of me completely. He would later tell me that this was due to my nerves kicking into overdrive the second I entered the tunnel. He gave me the hand signal to straighten my legs, but for some reason my brain thought this meant I had to also keep them together, causing my whole body to flip until I was on my back like a turtle on its shell. Another hand signal required me to relax my arms, but I was applying so much tension that they were almost stonelike when Drivas attempted to move them. Because of this, the first two times I entered the tunnel, I had to exit a few seconds later.

But you know what they say — third time’s a charm. Somehow, it just clicked for me after that. With my legs straight and my arms up over my head, Drivas was eventually able to get me into a neutral body position inside the tunnel before releasing me. I was flying on my own (albeit for just a few seconds)! It really did feel more like a sensation of floating, rather than free falling. I felt weightless as the wind furiously blew against my face and body, letting it just carry me.

During the last few seconds of my flight, Drivas held on to me again and the air tunnel controller revved up the speed, causing both of us to float even higher up to the top of the wind chamber. Remember that scene in Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory when Charlie Bucket and his Grandpa Joe start to float after trying the Fizzy Lifting Drinks? That’s what it reminded me of (except there was no exhaust fan at the top and we didn’t have to burp our way down, of course).

This was the longest duration of time I was in the wind tunnel, so when I was guided out for the last time, I immediately noticed how dry my mouth was and how out of breath I quickly became. Video of my ascent was captured on a nearby television monitor, and it wasn’t until I viewed it just then that I realized how high I had actually gone up — let’s just say a scary height.

As I began to take off my gear, Drivas reentered the wind tunnel for a little demo. Within a few seconds, he was doing front flips and backflips in midair like it was second nature to him. Watching him do tricks inside the wind tunnel was, quite honestly, almost as much fun as going in there myself.

Surf’s up

My skydiving session over, I went back down the stairs into the lobby and through a door on the opposite end to the SurfStream wave machine. After changing into my swimsuit and packing my belongings in a locker, I met with Danny Hyatt and Dave Cormier, two of the surfing instructors.

Hyatt asked me if I had ever surfed in the ocean before, and when I answered “no,” his response was “that’s good,” the reason being that, while the Surfstream is designed to make numerous types of waves, it’s not exactly the same as surfing a natural ocean wave. In the words of Hyatt, whose uncle taught him to surf out on the waters of Hampton Beach when he was a child, “in the ocean you ride the wave, but here, the wave rides you.” I understood what he meant once I climbed on my board for the first time. Unlike the ocean, where you’re waiting for a wave to form, the SurfStream requires you surf on a wave of already flowing water, making your stance and weight distribution on the surfboard that much more critical. Hyatt also demonstrated the way I should position myself when I fall off the board, by crossing my arms over my chest in an “X,” and with my fingertips touching my shoulders once I knew I would be going down.

Just like for my skydiving experience, I put on a helmet, elbow pads and knee pads. While I was getting prepared, Hyatt and Cormier queued up the SurfStream, and that filled up with rushing water within seconds. According to the Greers, it’s the first machine of its kind to be available in North America and the largest in the world, moving 240,000 gallons of water in a minute. It also has several different settings, accommodating everything from boogie boarding to wakesurfing.

When I was ready to hit the water, I followed Hyatt and Cormier to one side of the Surfstream. Cormier placed my surfboard flat onto the water while Hyatt took his own board out on the waves next to it. My task would be to place my feet onto the board, take Hyatt by the arms and pull myself up to a standing position. He would then guide me out to the middle of the Surfstream and let go of each arm one at a time while I attempted to balance on the waves.

Maybe I just don’t have the greatest sense of balance, but this turned out to be quite a difficult undertaking. The first time I got on the board, I was able to stay on it for about 30 seconds before wiping out (almost taking Hyatt down with me in the process). I immediately realized just how important the placement of each foot on the board really was.

Despite the shallow water levels, falling off the board really didn’t hurt much at all as long as you followed the instructions. I will say, though, that every time I did fall, I increasingly became more and more determined to get out there on my own hands-free (only to fall again). Let’s just say the instructors made it look so much easier than it really was.

My session was 15 minutes total, with the ability to divide that time up in order to try out different settings on the Surfstream. That doesn’t sound like a ton of time, but it actually does afford you quite a bit of opportunities to master balancing yourself on the board.

I decided to try boogie boarding and, as it turned out, even that required a little bit of skill and balance. Getting into the water was the most difficult part (it felt as though I was preparing to jump into a pool from a high diving board). Once I was in, Hyatt and Cormier taught me to firmly grip the boogie board and simply move from one side to the other by leaning into the water and putting more weight on that side. It proved to be an effective way to maneuver around, but trying to stay on the board was still a challenge.

I got to watch the pros in action once again after my session ended. The most important thing I learned from them? Remember to relax and breathe. Too often when I tried to balance on the surfboard, I did not focus on my breathing when I should have, causing my body to tense up.

I knew before my SkyVenture visit was over that I had to try the fish pipe (which, according to the website, is currently not running). I followed Cormier to the large rotating barrel in the back corner of the room, where he began to get it ready for me by checking the air and adding several gallons of water. As he did so, he explained that the barrel spins for 90 seconds, gradually getting faster before reaching a maximum speed of just under 20 miles per hour. You can choose to either stand or sit, but running on foot for the entire 90 seconds is much easier said than done.

When the fish pipe began spinning, I was able to stay standing for all of about three seconds before falling (it gets extremely slippery once the water has time to travel up and down the sides). By the time I attempted to get back up, the fish pipe had already started moving so fast that I could barely move on my own beyond a sitting position. Picture going down one of those extremely steep water slides you might have encountered if you visited a water park last summer — that’s what this was like, but with the added effect of constant rotation, making me feel dizzy but also extremely exhilarated once it stopped.

Adventure recap

My visit winding down, I reentered the lobby after changing back into my regular clothes. Everyone’s skydiving and surfing experiences are captured in the form of photos and videos that are available for purchase once you finish. Using the same tablets I signed my waivers on, I was able to get everything sent to my email with the help of the front desk staff.

Would I try any one of these activities again? Absolutely. Would I recommend indoor skydiving, surfing or fish pipe sliding to my friends or anyone looking to “jump” outside their comfort zone? You bet. Both were much more difficult than I was anticipating, but I never felt like I wanted to give up trying to balance on the surfboard, nor did I ever feel too terrified of heights to get back into the wind tunnel. As Drivas told me: “If you’re thinking about doing it, then do it.”

SkyVenture New Hampshire

Where: 100 Adventure Way, Nashua (formerly 3 Poisson Ave.)
Hours: Current hours are Wednesday through Friday, 2 to 8 p.m., and Saturday and Sunday, 11 a.m. to 6 p.m., for both skydiving and surfing (the fish pipe is currently not running). Reservations for all activities are highly recommended; call or book online
Cost: Rates vary depending on which activity you want to do and for how long, but generally will start at $55 per two-minute skydiving session and $45 per 15-minute surfing session.
More info: Visit skyventurenh.com, follow them on Facebook and Instagram @skyventure and @surfsupnh, or call 897-0002

ALL THE RAGE

Emotions and breakables fly at Rage Cage NH

By Meghan Siegler

Going to Rage Cage NH in Nashua for this story was not my idea. Two coworkers, separately, emailed me links for the place and somewhat emphatically suggested that I go. I’m not sure what that says about me, but I was game.

I was nervous but not especially angry when I walked into the Rage Cage, and I wondered how my rage session would go sans rage. As it turns out, smashing stuff is fun even if you’re not particularly upset.

But for people like me, who come in without a specific thing to rage about, owner Tedd Cherry said he’s found that it’s not all that hard to coax out some emotions.

“I kind of try to break people down psychologically when they come in,” he said. “We really want people to stop masking [their emotions].”

Perhaps because I was writing a story about my experience, Tedd didn’t mess with my head (next time, Tedd, next time). He said he likes to get a feel for where people are at as he’s explaining what they’ll be doing, and he has no problem swearing to see if anyone is offended. I brought my son Ben with me; he’s 16 (the minimum age allowed to rage), and the first time Tedd swore he checked in to make sure we were OK with it. (We were.)

Tedd clearly loves his job and is excited about the psychological benefits it offers. It’s a healthy way to deal with negative emotions, he said, a better alternative to alcohol or drugs or physical violence. He’s had people come in after break-ups and bad days at work, and people who just need to let out long pent-up emotions.

His enthusiasm was contagious. I will admit that I was a little sketched out when we first got to the Rage Cage; the space is located in a building on West Hollis Street, and when you open the door you walk into a large room that’s pretty dark and filled with, well, trash that’s waiting to be destroyed. But Tedd apologized and said it was a bit messier than usual, with inventory waiting to be put away.

“We’ve grown so fast that I’m having trouble keeping up with it,” Tedd said — he just opened in February and the response has been good. “I think the pandemic helped us quite a bit.”

To get us started, Tedd had us sign waivers, because of course there are waivers — you’re using bats and sledgehammers to destroy breakables and furniture in a small enclosed room. He then gave us a list with the number of items we could pick from various size categories; the number and sizes depend on the package you choose. There’s a whole wall of shelves, many of which are filled with glass: bottles, vases, drinking glasses. He said that three weeks ago he bought 17,000 pounds of glass, and at that point there was only about 2,000 pounds left. There were also small appliances, dishes, furniture and computer monitors, much of which he gets from thrift stores and nonprofits. For Ben and me, Tedd picked a variety of items for us, but typically he has people choose their own stuff so they can have some kind of emotional connection to it — say, a person who is frustrated with their desk job might find it freeing to smash a monitor with a baseball bat.

While Tedd filled a shopping cart with junk, Ben and I put on our safety suits, gloves and helmets, then headed into the “cage,” a small room with concrete walls and floors and just enough room for the two of us to take turns raging without worrying too much about getting hit with flying debris. We let Tedd choose the music — he likes to give customers options, from death metal to mildly scream-y. Ben and I couldn’t think of any good mad music, but Tedd is a pro and picked the perfect mix of loud, angry, but not obnoxious music.

Here’s my takeaway: Throwing glass at walls is fun. Beating a chair to smithereens with a baseball bat is extremely satisfying. Smashing computer screens is something most of us have wanted to do from time to time, and it feels good. Wielding a sledgehammer feels powerful. And watching my incredibly chill son show some aggression was pretty amusing.

I would love to go back when I truly need to let off some steam. I very much enjoyed all the smashing, but I was more worried about writing the story and taking pictures (which I did a terrible job of) than fully giving myself up to the experience the way I would if I went there specifically to release some frustration. I feel like it could save me from some serious yelling when my 13-year-old daughter is determined to break me down with her eye rolls and attitude.

Rage Cage NH

Where: 10 West Hollis St., Nashua
Hours: noon to 9 p.m. Thursdays and Fridays and 10 a.m. to 9 p.m. Saturdays and Sundays
Cost: Prices vary depending on the number of people, amount of time in the smash room and the number and size of items you want to smash. For example, “The Quickie” 20-minute smash session is $20 while the “Ultimate Showdown” for four people for an hour is $130, with several options in between. Glow smash is also available.

Paint a mess!

Rage Cage NH also features a soon-to-be-expanded paint splatter room that’s open to all ages — and every Thursday is kids’ day where the vibe changes from heavy metal to a little more mellow. Have a glow paint party with ultraviolet black lights, bubble and fog machines and whatever music you want for $25 per person for an hour, with up to eight people per party allowed in the current space. A regular paint splatter party without the glow is $15 per person. Rage Cage NH will be open during school vacation week for paint splatter only, Dec. 21 through Dec. 23 and Dec. 28 through Dec. 30.

GO FOR A SPIN

Get fit, have fun with pole dancing classes

By Angie Sykeny

As an on-again off-again fitness enthusiast who gets bored easily, I have been-there done-that with a variety of group fitness classes and physical activities, from my humble beginnings following the same 2003 Tae Bo workout DVD in my living room to my experimental phase in college attempting ballet and Taekwondo, and finally to a series of trendier classes offered at my gym, like Zumba, BODYPUMP and Pilates.

In early 2020, I reached out to Juel Sheridan, owner and instructor at New Perspectives Pole and Aerial, which offers numerous pole fitness and pole dancing classes for all experience levels, as well as aerial, lyra (aerial hoop) and trapeze classes. At the time, the studio was located in a small space in Manchester’s Millyard and had six chrome poles.

In a recent conversation I had with Juel over the phone, she told me New Perspectives has moved to a larger studio in Hooksett to allow for social distancing. The new studio has two class spaces, with seven poles in each, including a few stainless steel poles to accommodate people with an allergy to chrome.

“It’s more spread out and open by design,” she said. “We can fit more people — we can run two classes at the same time — but even with more people, there’s more space, so people can feel safer when they come in.”

When I reached out back in 2020, I asked Juel if she had any open spots for the Intro to Pole class. She said the classes had been nearly booked up for about a month but she could squeeze me into a Monday morning session.

Everything needed for the class — mats, spray bottles, rags — is supplied at the studio. No special apparel is necessary; “anything you would wear to the gym” is fine, Juel said.

It had been a while since my activewear drawer had seen the light of day, but I managed to dig out a loose athletic top and some workout leggings that still fit and headed to the studio.

As soon as I walked in and introduced myself to Juel, she had me fill out a short form with some basic information about myself and an emergency contact.

Four other people showed up, all of whom appeared to have been there before and knew the ropes. I followed their lead and made my way from the reception area to the main floor, where the poles were. I had a small moment of panic after the back row of poles was quickly occupied. “You only live once,” I thought, reassuring myself as I timidly claimed the front-and-center pole.

At the start of the class, we each grabbed a mat and laid it down next to our pole. Juel led us in some simple stretches for around five minutes; then we rolled up the mats and took to the poles.

Over the course of the hour-long session, Juel demonstrated and had us mirror various movements based around the pole. The skills involved in performing those movements consisted mostly of footwork, hand positioning and a correct distribution of body weight. We learned different ways of gripping the pole with our hands, hooking our legs around the pole and engaging our core to generate enough momentum to complete a full spin — ideally, multiple spins — around the pole.

We would practice a series of three or four different movements, and then Juel would show us how to use transitions to string the movements together into one sequence. It took me many repetitions before I was able to carry out a sequence that was even remotely graceful. I shudder to think of how I looked: a befuddled expression on my face, clumsily grappling with the pole and the only person in the class sweating buckets and fighting to catch my breath. I found solace when I scanned the room and realized that everyone was entirely focused on themselves.

After what felt like much longer than an hour, we returned to some stretches to close out the class.

As I reflect on the experience, I’ve come to several conclusions. The first is that, based on the word “intro,” I significantly underestimated how physically demanding the class would be. My muscles were sore for the next three days after the class, which leads me to my second conclusion:

Pole is a comprehensive workout. It works every part of your body, and if you aren’t feeling it during the class, you will undoubtedly feel it the next morning. Lastly, I ask myself if I would take a pole class again, and my answer is, absolutely. Not only is it an effective way to build strength, flexibility and muscle tone, but it’s also fun, and a great option if you’re looking for a fitness class that breaks the mold. With more than a dozen different advanced pole classes offered above the intro class, there is a ton of opportunity for growth, and I believe that for someone with dedication this exercise medium could blossom into a hobby.

Pole and aerial fitness classes

• Aerial Moon Yoga Studio (85 W. Pearl St., Nashua, 321-2275, aerialmoon.com) Aerial yoga.
• Center Stage Fitness & Aerial Arts (2 Paul’s Way, Unit 2, Amherst, 801-3032, centerstagedancefitness.com) Pole and aerial.
• Kama Fitness (250 Commercial St., Suite 3007A, Waumbec Mill, Manchester, 339-8253, kamafitnessnh.com) Aerial and trapeze.
• New Perspectives Pole and Aerial (35 Londonderry Turnpike, Suite GH, Hooksett, 775-3136, newperspectivesnh.com) Aerial, pole and trapeze.

Featured Photo: Hippo reporter Matt Ingersoll gets a feel for skydiving, with a little help from instructor Kevin Drivas. Photo courtesy of SkyVenture NH.