Beech Leaf Gin

At the end of our garden is a looooong beech hedge.  The other side of the hedge, in our neighbours' garden, the hedge is beautifully clipped and neat - a professional job.  On our side, it's neat up to as far as my arms can reach with extending loppers and/or shears.  We tend to let the clippings go dry for a week or so (weather permitting), then burn them off, toasting marshmallows over the incinerator by way of a delicious by-product.  This is inordinately helpful in persuading the children to help us gather the clippings, by the way.

However, it all did seem rather wasteful to me this year, with the result that I did a little research into what, if anything, could be done with young beech leaves.  Imagine my joy to find, in Richard Mabey's classic "Food For Free", a recipe for what he calls "Beech Leaf Noyau".  Well, Noyau is traditionally made with nuts, plus which it's the kind of word which makes people go "whaaaaa?", and hence makes you look insufferably smug, so let's just call a spade a spade, eh?  Agreed?  Okay - Beech Leaf Gin it is!

Further investigation revealed that Pam Corbin had also found Richard Mabey's recipe.  Richard's recipe was very loose, and Pam's was more precise.  However, I found a combination of the two produced this.

Find a large jug or vase, and pack as full as you can with new beech leaves.  These should still be that gorgeous, fresh, acid green of the very early leaves.

Pack the leaves down nice and tightly:

Cover with gin and weigh down to ensure that none of the leaves stay above the surface, or they will oxidise.  I put a layer of clingfilm over the surface and weighed down with a plate:

I found I needed a lot more gin than expected.  Oh, and as always when making things into gin - use cheap gin!  You do feel a total dipso leaving Asda with a trolley full of Smart Price gin, but it is the best stuff to work with.  Bombay Sapphire is delicious, but it has too much flavour of its own and doesn't do anything for your own creations.

Leave the gin to steep for 7 to 10 days, then strain through a jelly bag or muslin:

 - you may have to do this in stages as the unpacked leaves take up more space than you could possibly anticipate.

For each 500ml of gin, place 250ml water and 300g granulated sugar into a saucepan, and heat until the sugar is dissolved.  Allow to cool completely then add the gin.  DEFINITELY allow it to cool completely, or the alcohol will evaporate, and we don't want that, do we?!

Add a dash or so of brandy and pour into sterilised bottles, together with a leaf or two, just for decoration.

Use within two years.

Elderflower Cordial

There's something gorgeously satisfying about making such a deliciously refreshing and fabulously evocative drink as Elderflower Cordial out of a carrier bag full of stuff you've picked while walking the dog.

Apart from that, there are some things which, as you make them, you feel like you're bottling the very season itself, preparing to eke its memory out through the dark winter months.

This is one of them.  Raspberry jam is another - recipe WILL follow when the raspberries are ripe.

You can use this as it is, as a cordial, just adding ice-cold water and a couple of ice-cubes.  Squeeze of lemon if you like it tart.  You can make it into sorbet, ice-cream, whisk it into cream or drop it into champagne.  I did make Elderflower Champagne properly last year, but it was so explosive we became quite frightened of it, and had to spend hours hunting through the undergrowth for the ballistic swingtops.  So I'm sticking to cordial this year.

I've used a number of recipes over the years, but I've come down to a nice simple one.


50 elderflower heads
4 lemons
Water
Citric aciiiiiid
Sugar (for amounts, see below)

Put flowers in beeeg saucepan.
Zest lemon into pan.
Slice zested lemons and add to pan.

Pour boiling water over to cover.  At this point the flowers will go slightly brown, if the water is still boiling hot.  If you feel this may upset you, just let the water cool ever so slightly.  Actually, in all seriousness, if you leave the water for a minute before pouring over, I reckon you get a slightly fresher tasting cordial.  And the flowers don't all go brown.

Leave to steep overnight.

When you come downstairs in the morning, do not kick the cat out for weeing in the house.  At this stage, the tisane made by steeping the flowers has a definite base note of cat piss.  Don't worry.  This magically goes away.

Line a sieve or colander with clean muslin.  A note on this:  clean, but not brand new.  Wash it first as it has starch in when it's new!  I have seen recipes which advise using a new j-cloth.  Er, ick?  Those things are nasty.  Okay for wiping down surfaces, but would you really want to sip your drink through one?  Me neither.

Anyway, now that you've delayed matters while you washed your gitting muzzy, and lined your sieve with it, you can sterilise it by pouring boiling water over it.

Place the sieve over a large jug or bowl.

I repeat, place the sieve over a large jug or bowl.

This is worth repeating, as there are few things more upsetting than sieving all your elderflower tisane down the plug'ole and being left with a muzzy full of floppy flowers.

Pour the contents of the pan through it (checking that you're not about to overflow the jug).  Leave to drain, don't squeeze or you risk cloudy cordial.  Ghastly, darling.

I ended up with 4 litres of elderflower water.  I had to use two jugs.  Unless you have enormous jugs (ooer etc.) you will have to use two jugs, too.

Put juice back in (cleaned) saucepan and add half as many kg of sugar as litres of liquid - so for 4 litres of liquid, 2kg sugar, etc.

I have worked out through trial and error that you need about 1heaped tsp of citric acid per kg of sugar, but this is a bit of a movable feast, and you'll find all sorts of quantities recommended, from a pinch to a couple of boxes.

Place over a medium heat and stir constantly until sugar is dissolved.

Bring to a gentle boil and simmer for a couple of minutes.  I like to add some of the flowers back into the cordial, as I think they look really pretty floating both in the bottle and in the glass (especially if they're not braaaaahn).

Pour into hot sterilised bottles*, while the cordial is still hot, but not too hot to handle!

* To sterilise bottles, give them a good wash in very hot water, or run through dishwasher, or preferably both.  Allow to dry, then place in a hot oven for 10 minutes.  If using swing top bottles, remove the swing tops before running through the dishwasher as the salts can corrode the metal.  I tend to just place them in a pan and pour boiling water over them, then leave to cool.**

** Three months on, my cordial is all still untainted, so this seems to work fine.

Gluts and what to do with them.

No, seriously - nothing since JUNE?  Appalling.  Sincerest apologies, dear readers.

There's too much to catch you up on all in one go, so it will have to be dribs and drabs or it'll never get done.

So.  Gluts.

I have to confess that this year's glut is not mine.  No.  Not anywhere close.

My veg patch is no longer an award-winning veg patch.  It is an award-winning avant-garde bindweed sculpture - or it would be if anyone was stupid enough to give awards for bindweed.  It is so bad that the only solution I can see is repairing the perimeter and filling it with chickens through the winter, who will peck and scratch and clear it to ground level.  That's the theory.

I have been investigating this idea, a-googlin' like a good'un.  Half the advice says this is a BRILLIANT plan, chickens love bindweed and will eat the shoots, leaves and any bit of root they can find.  The other half says it is IDIOCY, the chickens won't eat the bindweed as they HATE it, and THEY WILL DIE.

I am assuming the THEY WILL DIE people are mad.  We'll see.  I am not going to embark on mass chicken-cide, by the way.  I will Be Clever, and Feed Some Bindweed To A Chicken First.  See?  Clever.

H'Anyway.

Gluts.

My dear friend S, she of Unexpected Trout fame, on her return from holiday, found herself with a patch and a greenhouse veritably groaning with vegetables.  Being the all 'round fab person she is, she rang and offered me as much veg as I could carry, basically.  After a brief (well, I say brief....) diversion via the trampoline (children) and a bottle or two of Pinot (adults), I left hers with a bucket full of tomatoes, three green peppers, three humungous cucumbers, a head of celery and a carrier bag full of onions.  See, I told you she was fab!

My part of the deal was that nothing would be wasted.  Heh heh - wasted!  As if!

Obviously, tomatoes were of the essence, as they are the quickest to go off.  If they get a chance, that is...  Once we'd finished eating as many as we could just as they were, with a bit of salt and a bit of balsamic, I did a couple of things.

Part one - Roast Tomatoes.

This is one of my favourite things to do with tomatoes.  It takes almost no preparation, and is the most delicious, simple meal, served with fresh crusty bread.  It's also a great as an accompaniment to all sorts of stuff, and, if you really make TONS of it, you can blitz the leftovers into a perfectly gorgeous roast tomato soup.

Here's what you need:

Tomatoes - lots, all different sizes and varieties, or all the same.  Doesn't matter.
Oil
Balsamic vinegar
Worcestershire sauce
Salt
Herb of your choice
Big stoneware dish
Hot oven

Here's what you do:

Preheat the oven to about 180c - if you're cooking something else which requires a specific temperature, though, just use that.

Give the tomatoes a rinse, if you're worried about that kind of thing.  Yes, I didn't.  Bothered?  No.

Using a sharp little knife, take out the bitter core under the calyx (unless the tomatoes are really ripe, in which case don't bother).  You only need to do this, in any case, with the larger tomatoes.  Seriously don't both with the cherries and medium sized ones.

I always leave all the tomatoes whole, even if some are the size of five pence pieces and some are as big as apples.  I like the way they cook at different rates.  But if you're fussed about them all being uniformly squishy or otherwise, and you can be bothered, cut them all to the size of the smallest tomato.

Slug on some olive oil and some balsamic vinegar, plenty, and a generous dash of Lea and Perrins (there really IS no alternative Worcestershire sauce, in my everso 'umble).  Scatter on some seasalt.  I'm usually fairly freehanded with the salt on this one - the tomatoes can take it.

As to herbs.  At the moment, the garden is filled with a profusion of flowering oregano which, as it happens, goes extraordinarily well with tomatoes.  So that's what's gone in.  But you can add whatever you like.  Basil, of course, is lovely, but remember it'll go black, so either add towards the end of the cooking time or cheat and use a couple of dollops of pesto, if you don't have anything fresh to hand.  And, of course, there's always chillis.  Mmmm.

Into the oven with them, and cook for anything from 30 minutes to an hour, depending on their size and how cooked you want them.  I like mine collapsed and just starting to blacken.

DO enjoy.

aaaand on to......

Gazpacho

Oh, just yum yum.  I have as much of a passion for gazpacho as I have a dislike of minestrone.  I used to confuse the two as a child.  I'm ready to be converted (not away from gazpacho - heaven forfend - but towards minestrone) if anyone wants to cook me a particularly yumsome one.  Never say never.

So this was the pile of vegetables which I was looking at:

As you will appreciate, gazpacho was rather an obvious choice.  I apologise for my lack of originality here, but, frankly, I don't give too much of a flying one as it was bloody lovely.

I had about 3/4 of a kilo of toms, so you can multiply or divide your quantities, and of course increase or decrease individual ingredients according to taste.

So for 750g tomatoes, take
2 red peppers
4 sticks of celery
1 cucumber (peeled)
1 onion
3 cloves of garlic
1 lemon - juice only
1/3 of a glass each of white wine vinegar and olive oil

Cut everything into manageable chunks, pile it all into a huge bowl or saucepan and blitz with a handheld blender.  You may need to add some water - depends how you like your gazpacho.  Also, depending on how scary your blender is and how smooth you want the finished soup, you may want to blend it bit by bit in the beaker, rather than all in one go in the pan.

You know me - do what you want!

Once it's blitzed to your satisfaction, chill down and serve cold, with a swirl of extra olive oil, a squish of lemon or a spiral of balsamic vinegar.  You can even add sour cream, if you like.  And it's delicious served really cold with hot, buttered toast.

Annnnnnd finally...

Mixed pepper crisps

I keep making these and eating all of them before anyone else gets a chance.  In the photograph, I have cooked them for somewhat less long than usual.  I was being clever again.  I didn't like them as much as usual, so I didn't eat all of them.  I left three bits for other people.  I know.  Clever AND kind.

Pointless to give quantities - how many peppers have you got?  How many do you want to eat?  How many people are you feeding?  I actually did seven peppers once, and ate the whole lot.  WHAT a pig. But a healthy pig....

So:

Peppers
Salt
Dried chilli flakes

De-seed the peppers and cut into large chunks - if your pepper has three bumps on the bottom, cut it into three, then cut each third in half.  If it has four, cut into four then each quarter into halves.

Place in a large stoneware dish, or on a baking sheet.  Sprinkle over a little olive oil - not too much or they won't crisp - some seasalt and the dried chilli flakes.  How much depends on how hot you like it.

Bake in a hot oven until crisp - about 45 minutes, but keep an eye on them as they can go from gently roasted to incinerated beyond recognition within seconds.

I have to confess that even when incinerated, I will still eat them.  I think it's the chilli and the salt that does it....

Posting NOW without tweaking.  There may be gaffes and improvements and tweaking of photo placements which could be done, but really, sometimes, carpe f***ing diem, my darlings.