How to Make a Hot Buttered Rum, the Velvety Cocktail That’ll Warm You to the Core

Hot Buttered Rum is something that your body understands before your brain does. 

It’s actually kind of fun to see—say there’s a guest who just walked in, coat off but nose still stinging from the cold, who’s reading a menu and comes across the words “Hot Buttered Rum:” You see first excitement, and then a slow look of puzzlement as the frontal cortex gets involved. The world is full of drinks that seem like they don’t make sense but they’re great anyway, like wine with whiskey or yogurt with tequila. Rarer are the ones that sound great, then seem less great when you think about it, then you have it and it’s great again. In this, the Hot Buttered Rum stands alone.

The most visible problem, as that cortex of yours has already determined, is the butter. “Butter? In the drink?” Yes, butter in the drink. A couple things on this. First, it’s nowhere near as weird as you think it is. It’s not weird at all. You’ve had a cappuccino, haven’t you? Milk in your tea? A layer of cream over a good Irish Coffee? Fat has a role in beverages—a role you’ve already mentally accepted whether you know it or not—which is to temper sweetness, add richness, and boost the flavor. The next question I get: “Does it just sit on top of the drink?” A little, yeah. Then you stir it, and it mixes. Over a minute or two, if you let it sit, it will eventually gather on top again. Which really isn’t a problem, but you can always stir again and reset the clock. 

Now, let’s talk about the benefits, the things your body already knew: Hot Buttered Rum is amazing, and has been sustaining Americans since before there was an America. Its origin is impossible to date precisely, but certainly coincides with the introduction of rum to the fledgling colonies, wherein some enterprising drink mixer, perhaps underwhelmed by the Hot Buttered Beer they had been drinking, saw potential in a bottle of rum. Remember that before cocktails were smoked, clarified, and photographed, they were hot and strong and designed to keep you alive. When you’re bone-tired from a day of work and bone-chilled on these darkest days of the year, few things are as comforting and delicious as a Hot Buttered Rum, deeply spiced, warming to the core, and velvety in its richness and texture. 

The other problem with Hot Buttered Rums is procedural, in that nearly all the online recipes tell you that you first need to make a “compound butter,” for which you need to soften butter, assemble ahead of time, and then pre-chill, and which yields enough “batter” to make dozens of Hot Buttered Rums. And here’s where we lose the second half of the drinking public—you just wanted to try this weird little drink, not to have to break out and clean the damn stand-mixer, and even if you got over the mental hurdle of the butter, you’re probably thinking now that it’s just not worth the hassle. I don’t blame you.

I am, however, here to tell you that none of that is necessary. You can make an utterly delightful version of Hot Buttered Rum with fridge-cold butter, sugar from a bag, and pre-ground spices. Does it get better when you spend more time on it? Sure. But can you make it á la minute and have it still be one of the most delicious beverages ever created? Yes. 1,000 times, yes. Here, at the end of the year, when the days are 90 percent night and indulgence is almost a requirement, you should make yourself one. Your body deserves it.

Hot Buttered Rum

First, pre-warm your mug: Pour hot water into it, wait 30 seconds, then pour it out. Next, assemble the drink in the mug: Add the butter, rum, brown sugar, and spices, and pour hot water over it. Stir well to combine. Garnish with a cinnamon stick or a bit of grated fresh nutmeg or both, and serve with a long spoon or straw, for re-mixing, as required.

NOTES ON INGREDIENTS AND TECHNIQUE

Compound Butter?: Now, prepping a compound butter makes sense if you’re making these in a bar setting, or even if you think you’ll make more than three or four of them over a season: It can live in the fridge and makes the whole thing nearly instant. It also (allegedly) allows the butter to mix more thoroughly, as the fat coats the sugar and spice granules and allows it to be better distributed. For me personally, the mixing boost from a compound butter is so small as to be not worth the trouble. The reason to make a compound butter is to make these at scale.

Emulsification: There is no emulsifier in this drink, so the butter and the water will separate at some point. How long that takes is a question of how vigorously you stir. If you just do a lazy circle with your spoon as you would cream in coffee, the butter will reform on top within 10 seconds or so. On the other end of the spectrum, if you put this into the blender and buzz it for 10 or 15 seconds, the butter will stay in suspension for several minutes, but it adds a layer of white foam on top and cools the mixture down more than you might want. Feel free to do this if you like. Everything’s a trade off.  

I’ll just add that if you woke up feeling like a scientist, there is science to be done here. You can make a butter syrup, which isn’t hard (providing you have a couple easy-to-buy chemicals and a 0.01g scale), and keeps the butter perfectly in suspension forever. 

Rum: You want an aged rum; beyond that, I don’t get too prescriptive as to what kind. I tried this with grassy rum agricole, deep Demerara rum, funky Jamaican rum, and soft Spanish-style aged rums, and they were all great—the Jamaican funk can be overdone, but a little is fine (funk as a component in a blend, like the Planteray Mr. Fogg for example, is phenomenal). Use whatever rum you like.

Also—does whiskey work? Sure, some. But rum is better, rounder, and more agreeable to the addition of butter. Whiskey fights it a little.

Spices: This is a very durable template, mix and match as you see fit. The other option would be to make a spiced brown sugar syrup, which isn’t much less work than a compound butter but a little less—a cup of water, a cup of brown sugar, two smashed cinnamon sticks and a pinch of cloves, put into a pot, covered and simmered for 10 to 15 minutes. If you do this, you can skip the spices and just use 0.5 oz. of the syrup.

Sugar: I like brown sugar in particular here, which, taxonomy-wise, is white sugar with a small amount of molasses added back in. Demerara or turbinado sugar was also good, but less good—that molasses richness really helps anchor the drink. And I know what you’re thinking—why not just use molasses? I tried that too. It’s good! Pretty specific though, you have to either love that flavor, or also add some ginger and just lean into the gingerbread flavors. 

Adjunct Ingredients: At the end of a long night of testing Hot Buttered Rums, I just started grabbing stuff off the shelf and pouring it into the glass, and nearly all of it worked. Nocino (walnut liqueur) was fabulous across all tests. Barenjager (honey liqueur) was similarly delicious. Benedictine was delicious but subtle, especially amid the other spices. St. Elizabeth Allspice Dram was a little too much, actually. Again, this is very durable. Have fun with it.