A number of years ago I
purchased Booze by John Wright (2013,
Bloomsbury). Booze, the twelfth installment in a series of River Cottage Handbooks, guides the reader on how to
make infusions, wine, cider and beer. Other handbooks in River Cottage series explore
subjects such as Chicken & Eggs; Curing & Smoking; Edible Seashore;
Hedgerow; Pigs & Pork; Sea Fishing; and Veg Patch.
I bought Booze to learn more about British
infusions. Wright marries his knowledge as a “dedicated forager” with his
enthusiasm for infusing. He writes that “few items of vegetable matter have
escaped my infuser’s hand.” Case in point, Booze
sports a recipe for Oak moss gin.
Booze covers
four types of infusions: fruit, nut, floral and plant. Wright instructs the
reader on the making of Sloe gin; Sea buckthorn vodka; Haw gin; Gorse flower
white rum; Sweet vernal grass vodka, and even Absinthe. But perhaps the Best In
Show infusion in Booze goes to Blackberry
whisky. Wright writes: “[it] is one of the finest of all infusions, a rival to
even sloe gin.” To make Blackberry whisky you need only sugar in addition to
the drink’s titular ingredients. Wright’s instructions follow.
Two-thirds fill a Kilner
jar with blackberries, then sprinkle sugar over them until it covers the bottom
half of the fruit. The blackberries should be dry for this operation otherwise
the sugar will not flow. Top the jar with whisky, close the lid and shake
gently. Store in a dark cupboard and shake once a day until the sugar has
dissolved.
After 6 months, decant the
infused whisky into a bottle and store for at least a year to mature.
Since buying Booze I’ve made three batches of
Blackberry whisky. I call my 2015 batch The
Inferno because I completely disregarded Wright’s counsel on whisky
selection: “Do use cheap whisky for this recipe as there is a special pit in
hell for those who drink good whisky in any way other than on its own.” I dipped
into a bottle of Laphroaig Quarter Cask (so, I guess, I’m going to hell). Save
your soul and don’t make the same mistake (and furthermore, to my taste, the
Laphroaig’s intense peatiness makes it a questionable base solvent).
In 2016 I made two different
version of Blackberry whisky: one using a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey and
the other with Buffalo Trace Kentucky Bourdon Whiskey. Both batches taste
promising. I used foraged Evergreen blackberries in the bourdon version and a
mixture of Evergreen and Himalayan blackberries with the Jameson. Aside: One day
I hope to make Blackberry whisky with a local native blackberry variety called
the Pacific blackberry or Northwest dewberry. These small berries taste
outstanding, but I rarely find even a handful per season. Between the ubiquitous
Himalayan and Evergreen blackberries, I prefer the latter, but pick according
to your personal taste.
And speaking of taste: How
does Blackberry whisky taste? Wright encourages his readers to make this
infusion with these words: “For those few who do not like blackberries and the
many more who do not like whisky I have some good news. Given time—about a
year, but two is better—the flavour mellows into something quite its own, not
dissimilar from port, and with never a hint of peat bogs and barely a trace of
blackberry crumble.” No hint of peat…unless, of course, you use Laphroaig. Did
I mention that I have a special pit in hell?
