Jammy Chicken

Saturday Farmer's Market.

This week was all about tomatoes at the farmer's market. [Plus I may have a source of duck eggs! I got so excited I think I actually forgot to take the chicken thighs I had just paid for and walked away without them...]

Everybody had beautiful tomatoes, so I went for a riot of multi-colored heirloom varieties. I snagged a box of small ones - grape to cherry sized - that had 13 different kinds in. The colors are inspiring, and I am still overcompensating from having to look at the wooly anemic pink rocks impersonating tomatoes at the grocery store all winter long.

Perhaps a little too much overcompensation [although that's kinda the whole point of overcompensation, innit?], as we will be eating tomatoes at every meal for a while to get through the farmer's market haul.

And that was before the British Guy spotted all the little ripe ones in our feral tomato patch. I've been checking out our bedroom window, but have only seen flowers up to now. You have to go tomato diving into the shrubbery to find the little buggers.

They started out as white currant tomatoes about 15 feet away and 3 years ago, before they went native and colonized what used to be a potato patch being overgrown by mint. I can confidently say that these tomatoes have outgrown, overgrown, and otherwise completely strangled the mint into oblivion.

Mint, people.

Plus, these babies haven't been watered in about ... well, never.

I would be scared if I actually thought about how well they were growing overtaking our yard in these dustbowl-like conditions.

Except they are so darned tasty.

And I have to say I really love no-maintenance plants with tasty free food on them.

Aren't they cute?

We took a drive around yesterday [which is why Saturday Farmer's Market isn't getting posted until Sunday evening], showing James the Nephew the sights of Iowa before he leaves to return to the homeland in a few days. One must-see stop for any self-respecting Iowan proudly showing off the state is: Riverside.

Yes, that Riverside.

Although as we all know, with the alternate reality reboot he's not born in Iowa anymore (btw this link is awesome).

Murphy's Bar and Grill has improvised, and put up this plaque under the pool table.

Gotta love Iowa.

Elderflower Liqueur.

Elderflowers were the picture of abundance just a few weeks ago, and it is pretty clear that their final gasp marked the passing of summer's easy start and the arrival of uncompromising, full-on summer herself. It may be an end of the elderflower, but it is the beginning of the elder berry. I must confess, though, that I have yet to use the berries for anything, being too ambivalent in my feelings for their fierce medicinal taste and wicked staining purple dye. I relish the flowers each and every year, though, and am just a little sad to see them brown and dry, because it means that the easy living of early summer, filled with warm promise and golden light, are another year away, again, leaving us with hazy shimmers and white-hot sun.

To celebrate the elderflower, I have cordialed, I have fizzed, and this year I soused as well.

I thought, rather proudly, that I was being quite ingenious dumping a giant handful of tightly packed elderflower blossoms into a bottle and soaking with vodka, in my quest for a do-it-yourself St-Germain liqueur.

Until I saw this - which only confirms my suspicion that there is nothing truly original out there (except maybe molecular gastronomy).

Or perhaps dumping handfuls of flowers into alcohol to concoct a tasty drink based on, and inspired by, local abundance is such a fundamentally good idea that there's no reason to worry about it if other have had, and continue to have, the same good idea.

It won't cool down these fiery temperatures any, but a drink concocted with early summer flowers has got to be refreshing for the soul, making this blazing oven we've suddenly arrived in a little more bearable until early summer comes around again.

Elderflower Liqueur.
Makes about 1 3/4 cups. Feel free to scale up.

You will need a clean pint-sized jar or larger.

1 1/2 cups of elderflower blossoms, forked off.
As much vodka as necessry to cover blossoms and fill your jar (mine was 1 3/4 cups).

Pack the flowers into the jar so they are all in rather compactly, and pour enough vodka into the jar to completely cover the blossoms. Put a lid on and let soak in a cool, dark place for a good 3 or 4 weeks. The vodka will turn sunny yellow during this time.

When you can't wait any longer, strain the vodka. Drink as straight elderflower vodka, if you're hardcore (though it's hard to reconcile being hardcore and drinking flower vodka), or make into a liqueur the low-rent way by adding sugar, shaking to dissolve, and tasting until you like it. Start with 1/4 cup and continue until you reach your sweet threshold or the sugar will no longer dissolve - I got to 1/2 cup and decided it was good.

Serve with tonic water or sparkling water, add a squeeze of lemon or orange,  muddled with some mint and lots of ice, or make a light sangria with white wine and light colorful fruits  - rainier cherries, peaches & white nectarines would be my top choices.

Elderflower Champers: A sparkling summer drink.

Half of the two people living in this house are British.

So you could probably guess that we don't celebrate The Rebellion with overwhelming enthusiasm from all parties for just that reason.

Also because it was a waste of good tea.

But if we did want to, perhaps, acknowledge the actions of dangerous and ill designing men - and women -  these diverse wicked and desperate persons arraying themselves in a hostile manner, and the disorderly acts comitted in disturbance of the public peace, we woud do so with this: Elderflower Champagne.

Because really, who doesn't love a little magic making bubbles in your drinkies?

Especially if said drinkies are essentially free?

What could possibly be better than a free drink?

(Except lots of free drinks, of course.)

My starting point was Darina Allen's Elderflower Fizz recipe, which is quite similar to this River Cottage recipe, which is quite a bit less complicated than this version. Also, the complicated version mentions that bottles may explode (or 'detonate messily', as they delicately put it), whereas River Cottage merely says to perhaps think of opening them in the sink, so that's a small comfort.

This drink relies on natural fermentation to make bubbles (bubbles, I say!), and all the necessary yeast comes from the elderflowers themselves. It's a beautifully sweet, floral sparkling beverage, and easily the most magical thing I have ever made.

Water, sugar, lemon, elderflower, vinegar.

These common substances, some mundane, even, all go into the bottle and somehow miraculously transform into a delicious sparkling drink.

Delightful.

So, bubbles, people. Lots of them.

Wait... did I mention the bubbles?

Clearly there's some fermentation going on here. We just watched the River Cottage episode that features Hugh making Elderflower Champagne, and John the Forager thought Hugh's version was about 4 % alcohol after about a month of waiting. Mine really doesn't taste very alcoholic at all, and if forced to guess, I would have ventured maybe 1 to 2 %, at most, but I have no way of measuring. Also, mine is quite young - only 2 weeks. The longer it ages, the more alcoholic it will be, I think.

If this kind of thing concerns you, there are some ways to check. If it makes you feel any better, Ms. Allen feeds it to her children and their little friends.

Elderflower Champagne.
Makes about 8 pints, or 4.6 liters.

You will need enough large, strong bottles to hold all the elderflower champagne. Those pretty ones up top? They don't really work. Well-cleaned screw-top wine bottles work a treat, as do quart-sized mason jars with canning lids screwed on tight. Or plastic soda bottles, which conveniently come in larger sizes. You'll also need a large, non-reactive plastic container, a funnel and a strainer.

1/2 cup well-packed elderflower blossoms from about 10 flowers, forked off
zest and juice from 1 lemon
1 1/4 pound (600 grams) sugar
2 tablespoons white wine or champagne vinegar

Forking off elderflowers: the green stems and branches are mildly toxic, so remove as many as possible. Hold the base of a flower bunch with one hand, and run a fork through it to quickly and efficiently pop off most of the flowers - forking off accomplished.

Mix all of the above ingredients with 8 pints (4.6 liters) of cool water. Stir until the sugar is dissolved.

Cover loosely and let sit for 24 hours.

After 24 hours, the liquid should be bubbling ever so gently - you can hear the tiny popping noises if you put your ear close. If not, leave for another 24 hours.

When effervescing lightly, strain the liquid and transfer to sterilized bottles. Cap tightly and store in a cool place to age for 2 weeks.

Serve chilled and garnish with berries for a colorful glass of fizz.

Use within 3 months, earlier for less alcoholic brews.

Note: I did not have any 'detonations', but I did have some leakage from the swing-top bottles stored on their side. Wine bottles stored on their sides, and mason jars stored upright were both fine. Some websites suggest opening the bottles carefully every once in a while to release the pressure, if necessary.

 

Elderflower and Lime Cordial - a summer syrup.

Cordial, in the US, generally means a liqueur, sweet and sticky and just alcoholic enough to be naughty.

Cordial, in the UK, means squash - not the plant, or the sport, but squash the drink, a fruit- or citrus-based syrup concentrate that needs to be mixed with sparkling or tap water for a refreshing drink.

Elderflower Cordial is a flowery, citrusy, musky drink popular year-round in the UK and Europe, especially Scandinavia, where it is called hyldeblomst (who-le-blomst) in Denmark and fladersaft in Sweden (and Ikea).

There, it is available in the grocery store next to the sodas and bottled juices all year round.

Here, unless you truck over to your nearest Ikea, you rarely see it.

Elder trees, however, are a different matter. You see those everywhere. And since Elderflower Cordial is so easy to make, why not give it a try?

It is not as sweet as the commercial syrup, it tastes better, the flavors are customizable, and it saves you from coming back with another one of those big blue bags filled with stuff you didn't even know you needed.

I talked a little about elder tree identification in last year's post on elderflower cordial, and I think once you get your eye trained, you'll see that they really are everywhere. I have my best luck finding them on the edge of forests, in local parks, and on weedy lots that have been left to return to nature. You can usually smell the musky flowery scent before you see the shrub-like tree, and the large white fluffy umbrellas of tiny flowers are very distinctive. The trees in full sun bloom long before those in deep shade, and if you hunt around, you can easily be foraging blooms over a 4- to 6-week period.

The hard part is  catching the flowers at just the right time. The best blossoms to pick are the ones that are just beginning to open, and may still have a few tightly shut flowers in the center.

If the corymbs are turning brown around the edges, the flower is past its prime. Remember where it is, though, and come back in the fall to harvest the elderberries for syrup or jelly. Also, you should never strip an entire tree of all of its flowers - leave some to generate berries for the wildlife or later foragers.

The British Guy drinks this stuff like it's going out of style, so we (meaning me) stockpile every year. Last year's version with lemon and orange has citric acid for additional stability, but it makes quite a tart cordial.

This year, I took a peek at River Cottage's recipe for elderflower cordial in the Preserves handbook (as I was flipping through to the strawberry jam page), and used some of the ratios for citrus juice and sugar. I used lime instead of orange, and skipped the citric acid as per British Guy's request.

The lesser volume of citrus and no citric acid results in a lighter, sweeter taste that is very refreshing and mild, but it means that the cordial won't last nearly as long. Any that will not be used up in the next three months needs to be frozen for long-term storage.

Elderflower Cordial with Lime.
Makes about 2 liters.

30 large heads of elderflower
1 organic lemon, zest plus juice
1 organic lime, zest plus juice
1.5 liters boiling water
1 kilogram sugar
about 3 ounces lemon juice, to total 5.5 ounces with lemon and lime juice (3/4 cup)

You will also need sterilized glass jars to hold 2 liters of syrup.

Gather fresh and dry elderflowers, and shake out any freeloading critters outside before you bring them in.

Trim off any thick green stalks and place the elderflowers in a large, heat-proof bowl. Add the lemon and lime zest, and pour over the boiling water. Stir a few times, then cover and leave to infuse overnight.

The next day, strain the elderflower infusion through a sieve to remove the big bits, and then through a fine strainer to remove the finer particles. Note - you can just start with a fine sieve, but it goes faster if you get rid of the bigger pieces first.

Pour the infused liquid into a large pot and add the sugar and citrus juice. The combined juiced lemon and lime, plus additional lemon juice, should total 5.5 ounces (3/4 cup). Top up with additional lemon juice if necessary.

Bring to a boil and stir until the sugar is dissolved, then boil for an additional 5 minutes until syrupy and clear.

Let cool for a few minutes, then pour into sterilized jars.

If refrigerated, lasts for up to 3 months.

If freezing - use freezer-safe containers and leave at least 1 inch (2.5 cm) room for expansion as the liquid solidifies. Lasts in the freezer for up to a year.

When you are ready to drink, dilute 1 part cordial to 5 or 6 parts water, or to taste.

 

Bagge Strawberries, Independence, Iowa.

I am in the midst of a jam canning frenzy, and the 12 pounds of strawberries I got at the farmer's market just isn't enough. This is compounded by the fact that my strawberry guy didn't come to the farmer's market after my first big score, and batches two and three cleaned me out.

What's a girl to do?

Well. If the strawberries won't come to you, you have to go to the strawberries.

Independence, Iowa. America's fame is in their name.

Bagge has pick your own strawberries with names like Honeyoye, L'Amour, Cavendish, Mesabi, Jewel and Eros. The British Guy and I made an afternoon outing of it, and spent a lovely breezy hour picking berries.

Berry picking is very zen when you get into the rhythm: sweep leaves aside, find ripe berries, pop off from stems and deposit into basket, shuffle down row, sweep leaves aside. I think I would make a pretty good farm worker, I searched long and hard for all the ripe berries and nabbed each and every one, except that my toes went numb from too much crouching. So maybe not a farm worker afterall. Or different footwear.

The berry frenzy takes over after a while. You are picking from one plant and glance down the row to stretch your neck, and a brilliant red flash catches your eye. There, just out of arm's reach...the perfect berry. So  ripe and luscious and delicious looking. It must be picked! You pick it, and gloat. But now it looks just like all the other berries piled in your basket. Then you glance down the row and a brilliant red flash catches your eye...

When all was said and done, we left with 29.7 pounds of strawberries at a buck fifty a pound.

The British Guy: 14.3 pounds

Jammy Chick: 15.4 pounds

Not that I'm keeping score or anything.

Sloe Gin Fizz - an old time cocktail with a woodsy vibe.

Sloe Gin Fizz.

Like Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz, Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail, Frodo Baggins and the One Ring, Don Quixote and Dulcinea...or was that a windmill...I was questing for a Sloe Gin Fizz.

Sloe gin is an old English tipple, and a 1940 article from Esquire calls it a handsome, maroon-hued gin of tangy charm which is the offspring of mating Old Man Dry and Miss Blackthorn-Berry of the plum family. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

I really don't know why I got a bee in my bonnet and decided I needed this. The allure of the mysterious, I guess.

Since real sloe gin is not being imported into the US, and any 'sloe' gin you may find here has most likely seen more of the inside of a chemical plant than an actual sloe, I was in a predicament. 

The answer to most predicaments is, if you want it done right, you should  do it yourself. And from scratch.

For sloe gin, I mean: find a blackthorn bush and pick some sloes. It doesn't get much more from-scatch than that. Fortunately, I could. And I did.

After several weeks of shaking (good for the triceps), the sloe gin has matured and we are at the moment of truth.

First, I had a taste-off.

My sloe gin, on the left.  On the right, Celtic Country Wines Sloe with Gin, a product of Wales and a True Taste Award Winner.

Great for your hip flask and on country walks.

I kid you  not.

It is quite noticable that the color is remarkably different. As is the viscosity. 

Mine is a very bright, deep ruby red, whereas the Sloe with Gin is tawny, almost burgundy, and is much more syrupy and thick.

The bought Sloe with Gin is quite sweet, as I would have guessed from its thick texture. It tastes a lot like port, actually, with a deep fruity honey cedar flavor.

My sloe gin is much less sweet, and the alcohol has a little more of a kick. The fruit flavors come through more, and it tastes of plum, rasberry and pine. The resinous taste is quite a nice contrast to the slight sweetness and fruit, and not at all what you would expect from such an agressively bright color.

 My verdict: both good, but I prefer the less-sweet, less-syrupy homemade version. 

Drink straight up as an aperitif or digestif, or use in a mixed drink.

My favorite drink at the moment is to dilute 2 ounces of Sloe Gin with 4 ounces of highly sparkling water. Garnish with a rosemary sprig to highlight the piney aspects of the sloe.

I call it a Sloe Rosey Baby.

Cheers!

Have a good forage and make some sloe gin.

Maybe it's because I calm down a little when I am on vacation and am better able to take in more of the world around me, instead of being task-oriented and targeted like a laser ranging missile homing device (with just about the same amount of sensitivity and finesse, some people might say), but there seems to be a whole lot more stuff to eat out in the wilds of the UK compared to what I tend to spot on my average stroll through the woods back in the US.

Granted, the foraging culture is millenia old here.

Plus, the right to roam guarantees all people acess to most lands, public or private.
Try that in the US and you're likely to get shot. Or arrested. Or both. Or worse.

And, there's quite a cultural revival of foraging on at the moment, led by my fave floppy-haired maven of living off the fat of the land, Hugh Fearnely-Whittingstall. 

And honestly, it's pretty darned hard to forage through several feet of snow and ice in sub-zero temperatures, which is what we usually get out on the Great Plains. Just ask the poor deer, mid-winter, how they feel about the food availability situation. Compare that to the still-green and balmy UK.

So we went on a walk, to an iron-age hill fort on a hill nearby. Firstly, how rad is that? Secondly, imagine what kind of terror motivated people to pack up and move from the fertile, flat valley floor and relocate to the top of the highest hill around, then dig a giant trench around the whole thing, by hand, mind you, put up a giant wooden wall, and live there? Dude, I suddenly appreciate my 1950's ranch house a whole lot more.

We had a lovely 5-mile stroll and saw all manner of delightful scenery tasty eating options both running and growing: mushrooms (didn't know which were poisonous so we left those alone), pheasants (hiding in the hedge, to better scare the crap out of me when they flew out unexpectedly), and these lovelies, which are sloe berries. 

Sloes are the berries of the blackthorn, and while they are quite mean of fruit and bitter of taste by themselves, they can be used to make Sloe Gin, the foundational ingredient in a Sloe Gin Fizz.

I have been on a quest for a truly great sloe gin fizz since first learning of them, only a little over a year ago. Although at the time I thought it was slow gin fizz. I guess that shows my unworldliness in matters alcoholic.

I was suitably decked out in appropriate foraging gear: new wellies, wellie boot liners, plastic bag (not wearing but carrying). I come a little late to sloe gathering at this time of year, as most of the crop has already succumbed to other foragers or all manner of wee beastie, but it is imperative to wait until after the first frost or two, in order to give the blackthorns time to draw some of the bitterness from the berry back into the plant, and to let the freezing action help the sloe berries soften.

I braved the vicious and monstrously large thorns on the blackthorn to gather my sloes, and wound up with a respectable 800 grams for an hour or so of work (plus contributions from Proper Bacon and his mum).

The sloes need to be pricked all over to release the juice. You can use a fork, though custom decrees that the fork shall be made only of silver. Otherwise, pick yourself one of those nasty ginormous thorns (see above) and use that to prick the sloes, in a vengeful circle of irony. Or, use an old-school grater with the pointy bits on one side and roll the sloes on that. Or just bash the damn things in a bag.

Wash, dry and weigh your sloes, put in a suitable container with a leak-proof stopper, add half as much sugar, and cover with 4 to 5 times as much gin. The recipe gives you precise measures, but you can use whatever amount of sloe you manage to pick with this ratio. As a super bonus, use the very inebriated sloes from the gin to make jam or jelly.

The Sloe Gin must mature for quite a long while,  and while I cunningly have a bottle ready at home, home is far away at the moment, so a Sloe Gin Fizz will be showing up on Jammy Chicken shortly after New Year. Watch for it! And here it is!

The remainder of the recipe, in interpretive style:

ShakeShakeShake!  Shake!  Shake!  Shake!

Shake Wait....

Shake Wait....

Shake Wait....

Drink up!

Sloe Gin.
Consolidated from a number of different sources. 
Makes about a liter. 

450 grams or 1 pound sloes
225 grams or 8 ounces white sugar
1 liter or 1 3/4 pints gin (doesn't have to be best quality)

You will also need a 1.5 liter (or larger) bottle with a leak-proof lid and a needle, silver fork, or other way to prick the sloes.

Wash and dry the sloes.

Pierce the skin of each of the sloe berries several times and put into a sterilized bottle.

Add the sugar and gin.

Shake every day for 2 weeks, then shake once each week for an additional 2 months.

Strain out the sloes using muslin or a fine sieve, and decant the gin into another sterilized bottle.

Store for up to a year in a cool, dark place.

Windy!