Is There Anything Cozier Than Cider Punch at Thanksgiving?

If I’m being honest, every year I say I’m going to cook less, but then Thanksgiving rolls around and somehow, there’s a whole new bowl of punch on the table—and trust me, it’s not store bought. My Thanksgiving Cider Punch became legendary after the infamous “blazing cinnamon stick incident” of 2017. (I won’t bore you, but let’s just say our smoke alarm has a name now: Linda. She’s loud.) There’s something about the spicy apple smell swirling around that makes me put on woolly socks and feel like a kid again.

Why I Keep Making This, Year After Year

Honestly, my family loses their minds over this punch. I make it when my cousins show up early and start poking around the kitchen for snacks. It’s one of those things you start drinking and suddenly everyone is just a little ruddier in the cheeks—must be the spices, right? (Or the splash of rum if you’re that kind of host, zero judgment.) I used to try making fancy cocktails, but someone always asks for this instead. Actually, last year, my nephew decided he wanted to be the “punch captain” — he made a giant mess but had a blast anyway.

Here’s What You’ll Need (I Promise, You Have Options)

8 cups apple cider (I sometimes just grab whatever’s on sale. Granny insisted on the local farm stuff but honestly, supermarket cider does the trick.)
2 cups orange juice (Fresh squeezed? Sure. But boxed is fine.)
1/4 cup lemon juice—or, if you’re out, that squeezy bottle fake lemon will work in a pinch
2 cinnamon sticks (One time I ran out and tossed in a teaspoon of ground cinnamon—it’s not quite the same, but hey, it works.)
6 whole cloves (Don’t panic if you’re short—I’ve left them out before and no one noticed except maybe me.)
1/2 an apple, sliced into rings (Use pear if apples are all gone. Or both. More fruit = more fun.)
1 orange, sliced (Or throw in a tangerine, it’s all citrus!)
Optional: 1/2 to 1 cup spiced rum or bourbon, depending on who you’re serving. Or skip for a kid-friendly punch.
A small handful of fresh cranberries (for floating—they don’t add all that much flavor, but they sure make it pretty.)
Optional: Star anise for spice nerds like me.

How I Throw This Together (Messiness Optional)

Grab your biggest pot (or slow cooker, but honestly, I usually just go for the pot because it feels more classic.) Dump in the cider, OJ, and lemon juice.
Add the cinnamon sticks and cloves. If your spices fall in the bottom in a weird pile, don’t worry—it always looks strange at this point. This is usually where I sneak a quick taste, just in case.
Toss in the apple and orange slices, along with the cranberries if you have ’em. Sometimes they sink. Sometimes they float. (No idea why, it’s like a game every year.)
Bring it all to a simmer—it shouldn’t boil or you’ll lose the lovely scent (learned that the hard way, yikes). Just a gentle heat for 15-20 minutes, until your whole house smells like fall exploded. Lid on if you’re forgetful like me.
If you’re playing bartender, add the booze once it’s off the heat so you don’t cook the fun out of it. Stir gently.
Strain (or don’t—I usually fish the cloves and soggy apple bits out with a spoon, works fine).
Ladle into mugs, or whatever is clean. Sometimes we use soup bowls—don’t judge.

Things I Figured Out the Hard Way

If you accidentally add double the cinnamon, it gets bitter (I may have done this while chatting. Oops). Better to err on the light side.
Don’t try to keep leftovers right in the pot on the stove. (I absent-mindedly left mine once and let’s just say the next day was…an adventure.)
Warm punch keeps everyone hanging around the kitchen, which I actually love.

What Else Can You Try? (And, Well, What Bombed?)

I once tried floating pomegranate seeds for “color”—they turned sad and soggy after only a little while, so that’s out. Sliced pears are nice, and a sprig of fresh rosemary gives a weirdly sophisticated vibe (but my uncle said it tasted “like the garden” so… maybe not for everyone). I even found non-alcoholic drink ideas here when I wanted a change.

The Gear I Use (And Some Clever Cheats):

Large pot or slow cooker (the slow cooker is great if you want to keep it warm for hours). If you don’t have one, microwave batches in a big glass bowl—I’ve done it and no one could tell.
A ladle. Or a measuring cup with a handle. It’s not fancy, but it works.
Some sort of sieve or slotted spoon for scooping out rogue spice bits.

How to Store (Assuming It Doesn’t Vanish)

If by some miracle you have leftovers, chuck ’em in a pitcher in the fridge. Good for a couple days, maybe even three. But honestly, in my house it barely survives the first evening—especially if folks discover how good it is cold the next day with a bit of seltzer. I got that trick form Serious Eats (they know their stuff).

When and How We Serve It (The More the Merrier)

I’m a firm believer in serving this in mugs, nice and steaming, as soon as folks land on the doorstep. My little ones like to top theirs with a dollop of whipped cream (which is “over the top,” but they’re the bosses of me at the holidays). Adults? Sometimes we go a bit heavier with the rum and add a cinnamon stick to stir. It’s also great with a piece of pie—no kidding, it’s like autumn in a cup.

Lessons I Learned The (Sorta) Hard Way

I once tried rushing the heating step and threw it over high heat—nope! The flavors never blended right, and the texture turned weirdly sharp. Take your time. It’s worth it.
Leaving the fruit in for days? Turns it mushy and limp, so don’t do that unless you’re into fruit soup.
If you’re adding the booze, always taste first before going wild. It sneaks up on you.

FAQs (For Real Questions I’ve Been Asked…More Than Once)

Can I make this ahead? Absolutely! I actually think it tastes better the next day—just give it a stir before reheating (I’ve forgotten and ended up with a layer of spicy goo on the bottom. Not my finest hour).
What’s a good non-alcoholic version? Just leave out the booze, throw in extra fruit, maybe swap apple cider for pear juice—it’s all good. Have you checked out this list of mocktails? So many ideas.
Does it HAVE to be apple cider? Not at all! Once I was out and used apple juice—less fancy, but no one pointed it out.
What about leftovers? See my notes above. Also, cold with club soda is actually pretty tasty, trust me.
How spicy can I make it? Up to you. I like a mild background heat, but some folks chuck in extra cloves and ginger slices. Experiment, see what you like (maybe not all at once—I learned that the hard way).

And look—if you take nothing else from this rambling recipe, let it be this: Thanksgiving Cider Punch is supposed to be fun. If your kitchen is sticky and everyone’s laughing, you’re doing it right.