Bottling the Summer

<turning itsy-bitsy white flowers into sugary goodness which can then be enjoyed with or sans alcohol>

 

Since I am not quite as much focused on the production of alcoholic beverages as some of my comrades on this blog (who shall remain unnamed), I decided to make some of the elderflowers that populate every hedgerow at the moment not into alcoholic elderflower champage, but into its more sober (but still exquisitely delicious) cousin, elderflower cordial.

I first encountered elderflower cordial when I first came to Britain on my year abroad in London, and have loved it ever since, whether in still or sparkling water, still or sparkling wine, or in desserts (Greek yoghurt with blueberry jam and elderflower cordial, oh yes).

There are literally hundreds of recipes for elderflower cordial out on the web, and confusingly they advertise a number of different methods as the one and only way to make a decent cordial. There seem to be two main camps in this - those who say to boil the syrup, as in the River Cottage recipe, and those who scream in horror at the thought of scalding and scorching the delicate blossoms, like this recipe from The British Larder or this one from The Cottage Smallholder.

The thing is of course that heating up the liquid means killing off yeasts and bacteria, so one can dispense with all that troublesome sterilisation of bottles, muslin and whatnot that is necessary to stop your cordial from going bad. Having said this, I remember trying to make elderflower cordial back in Germany many many years ago - the recipe I followed then said to sugar the blossoms overnight to draw out the juice, and then boil the liquid to preserve it. So I sugared my carefully gathered blossoms, and the resulting syrup in the morning smelled heavenly indeed, but it all went horribly wrong when it heated up - the syrup discoloured into an ugly dark greenish yellow, and the taste was not at all what it should be either.

But since I have massive faith in the River Cottage, and because this was a rather spontaneous affair, and since I really couldn't be asked to go to the trouble of boiling jars and lids or heating them up in the oven, I decided to go for the simple approach as an experiment. In addition, their recipe dismisses the much-advertised and frantically sought citric acid as "optional", and since I had barely time to hop to the local Co-op for some lemons and certainly no time to order food-grade citric acid over the internet, that suited me just fine.

The recipe is very straightforward - elderflowers and some citrus zest get soaked in boiling water and left overnight, then strained, sweetened, and boiled. Nobody says anything about removing the blossoms from the stalks, so I took the flowers I had gathered in a spare 15 minutes that evening and just snipped off the thicker stalks, as well as removing what bugs there were, before pouring over a kettlefull of boiling water. Wonderful smells filled the kitchen. None of the blossoms turned brown, as I had half expected. Covered with a plate, the bowl sat happily on the kitchen table until the next morning.

It strained easily through a piece of muslin into a pot, the sugar dissolved nicely (less than the prescribed 1kg, since I only had three-quarters of a bag at home...), and after a few minutes on the boil I filled (due to lack of foresight or planning and thus lack of actual bottles), my jam jars. 

I never bother sterilising my jam jars or gherkin jars, and I have never had anything go bad on me. I use my mother's trick for filling and sealing jars - fill jars nearly to the top, screw lid on tight, then turn upside down and leave to cool. Voilà. The hot jam or pickling liquid (or cordial) sterilises the entire jar including the lid, and nary a critter survives.

Result: OM NOM NOM. No scorched taste in any way, shape or form, just beautifully fragrant, not too sweet, pale golden liquid, turning a mundane glass of tap water into something truly exquisite.

(Now where did I leave that bottle of sparkling wine I got as a house-warming present a couple of months ago?)

Heather beer

<an amber ale with herby notes. Made with foraged yarrow and heather, and shedloads of honey.>

Brewing your own beer can seem a terrifying prospect to the newbie, with all this talk of specific gravity and sparging and liqoring down and the presence of tremendous beards. But beer is good, and making stuff is good, and at the end of the day if you can follow a recipe you can brew a decent ale. Don't be put off by the technical sounding ingredients, they are easily sourced on the web or at a homebrew shop - use your local one if you can and trust their expertise. Ours is Hops and Vines in Witney and they are fantastic and also surprisingly lacking in intimidating facial hair. You will need some fairly big gear - a catering size stockpot to boil up the ingredients, a fermenting bucket (read: a bucket with an airtight lid and airlock), and either a pressure cask or 20 odd litres worth of empty airtight, preferably glass, bottles (swingtop are best, but you can manage with screw tops). You'd be amazed at how easily such stuff can be obtained though. There doesn't appear to be a loft in Oxfordshire that doesn't contain some sort of homebrew kit. Ask around and keep an eye on freecycle. Make sure you sterilise everything thoroughly before use.

This Easter I was in the Isle of Man visiting family, and being a compulsive forager took the opportunity to gather some heather in the mountains. If you aren't a fortunate mountain dweller any garden grown common heather will suffice. The yarrow is a traditional herb to use in beer, one of the main herbs used in gruit to add bitterness to your brew before hops were grown in England. It looks like a green feather, and can vary in size from the tiny wee examples you'll find lurking in your lawn to huge leaf spikes akin to pheasant feathers.

The recipe I followed was one adapted from the River Cottage for the Guardian Word of Mouth blog:
http://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/wordofmouth/2011/aug/03/viking-heather-beer-recipe. It'll give you a beer that is halfway between our modern amber ales and what a 15th century beard might have enjoyed down the pub. A couple of notes though. The hops you use (though there are very few) will have a major effect on the taste of your beer - choose something in keeping with the other flavours. I went for Bramling Cross (after much faffing around) which have a sort of blackcurrant flavour that (happily) went well with the honey. Use the best honey you can afford but honestly, supermarket own brand is fine.

Once you've finished the fermentation you'll have something around 4% ABV, and flat. So flat. Add 1/2 teaspoon sugar per litre of booze in a sealed container that can handle pressure and leave for another week or so to condition - fermentation will restart and create bubble, and a little extra alcohol. Pour (carefully!) and enjoy.