So Melinda mentioned her damson gin stash (https://confinedkitchen.blogspot.com/2020/03/weekly-roundup-and-looking-ahead.html).
Which made me think about my sloe gin stash.
Not that I have an alcohol problem, but I do have a lot of sloe gin, and as the reason behind that is familial and nostalgic - and that's kind of a theme in this blog - I'm taking the opportunity to post about it.
Take this as something that you can look forward to in the Autumn, an activity for when we can all become more active again.
Here's the my sloe gin stash, lined up in front of my stove. The stove is the heart of this house. The cottage doesn't have central heating, so I was very pleased to collect a load of firewood from the sawmill last week. I won't be going there again for a while.
Look at that typology of gin bottles. Can you guess that I'm an archaeologist?
Sloe gin is a beautiful colour. I've tried to capture it in today's sun. This is some pretty old sloe gin, made a number of years ago, so it has developed a richer, browner colour than the lively red it was originally.
Sloe gin is like sherry, port or Madeira. High alcohol content, can be sweet but can be dry. Nice in the Winter with a piece of afternoon cake, or after a meal. It's really easy to make. My dad taught me, part of a ritual we carried out most Autumns. I remember picking sloes one misty day, from blackthorn trees growing on the edge of the moated site in my parents' village. I was wearing my new coat, and a small Jack Russell dog came from nowhere, jumped up at me, bit and tore a hole in the pocket of my brand new coat, and ran off into the mist.
Sloes are the fruit of the blackthorn tree (Prunus spinosa) [health warning: make sure you are picking sloes, not Buckthorn, the fruits of which are poisonous. Second health warning: Blackthorn spines are sharp and can bring you out in hives). Sloes are small, hard, black fruits with a purple bloom. Try eating one off the tree and your face will screw up like a dog's bum, they are so bitter. They have a small, hard stone inside.
Sloes are part of the plum family. In Britain, they are the smallest (next size up is a thing called Bullace, also a hedgerow fruit and makes a lovely gin, then wild plums and damsons, and cultivated plums). Sloes ripen in the Autumn, and are best picked after the first Autumn frosts. Blackthorn is a European native, so check the rules where you live about gathering fruits and access from public land.
You need three ingredients: gin, sloes, sugar (white granulated will do).
The basis recipe is equal quantities of all three. So a litre of gin, a litre of sloes, and a litre of sugar, for example.
These days I find that too sweet for my liking, so I make it with half the sugar. I buy the cheapest supermarket gin, usually when it's on offer the previous Christmas. You'll need a vessel large enough to get the sloes out of once the gin is fully infused: this is the thing that you need to think about most carefully.
So preferably, find one or more glass containers with proper lids/stoppers, with mouths wide enough to pour everything out when you come to bottle up.
[1] clean your container(s), wash the sloes, remove any stray leaves, insects and spiders that you've brought home from foraging.
[2] put the sloes, gin, and sugar in and stopper the container.
[3] before long, all the sugar granules will have sunk to the bottom around the sloes, so everyday you should now turn the container(s) to help dissolve the sugar. Everyday until all the sugar has disappeared.
If you look online, you'll find all sorts of homespun old wives' tales about how you have to prick holes into the sloes using a blackthorn thorn to help the juices come out; the more technologically-savvy version of this is that you should freeze the sloes so that their skins burst, before, defrosted, you make the infusion.
It's all b*ll*cks. Just make the mix. You'll thank me for not advising you to ritualistically prick five holes into the skin of every sloe you've just spent a freezing afternoon picking.
For a while the gin will stay clear, maybe even look a bit grubby. A few sloes will float, the rest will sink. You won't see anything happen, and you'll wonder if this is all a waste of time and money.
The earliest this sloe gin will be ready is likely Christmas. You are in this for the long game.
The longer you leave it, the better it will be. Gradually, the liquid will change. You can make a little taste to see how it's coming along, but try not to, you'll be disappointed. It'll take minimum three months for the gin to take on the ruby-red colour and fruity taste from the sloes. The longer you leave it, the darker it will get, going from bright ruby-red to a duller rich brown after a year or so.
At some point, you need to strain off the liquid into clean bottles with suitable stoppers (screw-top, cork, whatever). Clear glass is best simply so that you can enjoy the colour.
If you look online, you'll find all sorts of clever ideas about how to use the post-infusion fruit. Like dipping them in dark chocolate to make boozy sweets. I bet you'll try to eat one of the gin-soaked sloes.
Don't bother. If you have a compost heap, put them into that.
The colour, smell and taste of sloe gin instantly take me back to places and times happier than those in which we find ourselves today. For that, and for all you good people, I am thankful.
Which made me think about my sloe gin stash.
Not that I have an alcohol problem, but I do have a lot of sloe gin, and as the reason behind that is familial and nostalgic - and that's kind of a theme in this blog - I'm taking the opportunity to post about it.
Take this as something that you can look forward to in the Autumn, an activity for when we can all become more active again.
Here's the my sloe gin stash, lined up in front of my stove. The stove is the heart of this house. The cottage doesn't have central heating, so I was very pleased to collect a load of firewood from the sawmill last week. I won't be going there again for a while.
Look at that typology of gin bottles. Can you guess that I'm an archaeologist?
Sloe gin is a beautiful colour. I've tried to capture it in today's sun. This is some pretty old sloe gin, made a number of years ago, so it has developed a richer, browner colour than the lively red it was originally.
Sloe gin is like sherry, port or Madeira. High alcohol content, can be sweet but can be dry. Nice in the Winter with a piece of afternoon cake, or after a meal. It's really easy to make. My dad taught me, part of a ritual we carried out most Autumns. I remember picking sloes one misty day, from blackthorn trees growing on the edge of the moated site in my parents' village. I was wearing my new coat, and a small Jack Russell dog came from nowhere, jumped up at me, bit and tore a hole in the pocket of my brand new coat, and ran off into the mist.
Sloes are the fruit of the blackthorn tree (Prunus spinosa) [health warning: make sure you are picking sloes, not Buckthorn, the fruits of which are poisonous. Second health warning: Blackthorn spines are sharp and can bring you out in hives). Sloes are small, hard, black fruits with a purple bloom. Try eating one off the tree and your face will screw up like a dog's bum, they are so bitter. They have a small, hard stone inside.
Sloes are part of the plum family. In Britain, they are the smallest (next size up is a thing called Bullace, also a hedgerow fruit and makes a lovely gin, then wild plums and damsons, and cultivated plums). Sloes ripen in the Autumn, and are best picked after the first Autumn frosts. Blackthorn is a European native, so check the rules where you live about gathering fruits and access from public land.
You need three ingredients: gin, sloes, sugar (white granulated will do).
The basis recipe is equal quantities of all three. So a litre of gin, a litre of sloes, and a litre of sugar, for example.
These days I find that too sweet for my liking, so I make it with half the sugar. I buy the cheapest supermarket gin, usually when it's on offer the previous Christmas. You'll need a vessel large enough to get the sloes out of once the gin is fully infused: this is the thing that you need to think about most carefully.
So preferably, find one or more glass containers with proper lids/stoppers, with mouths wide enough to pour everything out when you come to bottle up.
[1] clean your container(s), wash the sloes, remove any stray leaves, insects and spiders that you've brought home from foraging.
[2] put the sloes, gin, and sugar in and stopper the container.
[3] before long, all the sugar granules will have sunk to the bottom around the sloes, so everyday you should now turn the container(s) to help dissolve the sugar. Everyday until all the sugar has disappeared.
If you look online, you'll find all sorts of homespun old wives' tales about how you have to prick holes into the sloes using a blackthorn thorn to help the juices come out; the more technologically-savvy version of this is that you should freeze the sloes so that their skins burst, before, defrosted, you make the infusion.
It's all b*ll*cks. Just make the mix. You'll thank me for not advising you to ritualistically prick five holes into the skin of every sloe you've just spent a freezing afternoon picking.
For a while the gin will stay clear, maybe even look a bit grubby. A few sloes will float, the rest will sink. You won't see anything happen, and you'll wonder if this is all a waste of time and money.
The earliest this sloe gin will be ready is likely Christmas. You are in this for the long game.
The longer you leave it, the better it will be. Gradually, the liquid will change. You can make a little taste to see how it's coming along, but try not to, you'll be disappointed. It'll take minimum three months for the gin to take on the ruby-red colour and fruity taste from the sloes. The longer you leave it, the darker it will get, going from bright ruby-red to a duller rich brown after a year or so.
At some point, you need to strain off the liquid into clean bottles with suitable stoppers (screw-top, cork, whatever). Clear glass is best simply so that you can enjoy the colour.
If you look online, you'll find all sorts of clever ideas about how to use the post-infusion fruit. Like dipping them in dark chocolate to make boozy sweets. I bet you'll try to eat one of the gin-soaked sloes.
Don't bother. If you have a compost heap, put them into that.
The colour, smell and taste of sloe gin instantly take me back to places and times happier than those in which we find ourselves today. For that, and for all you good people, I am thankful.
I really enjoyed reading this. I haven't made sloe gin for ages, but we did do hawthorn gin last year, which is nice (we don't have any left now though...).
ReplyDeleteOh, these pictures are gorgeous. I do damsons because we've no sensible local sloe source, but I love sloe gin with passion. Like you, it's alllll good associations.
ReplyDeleteI’ve never tasted it but it sounds like Italian liquors made by fruits, herbs and alcool: mirto, nocino, amaretto.
ReplyDeleteWe often say it tastes a bit like cough syrup (the sticky medicine you take for a cough): sweet, but medicinal, too. In a good way.
DeleteLovely post. My top tip for sloe gin is that once you've decanted it and thrown away* the sloes you should leave it to stand for at least another three months: at first the flavour isn't very blended, but that changes over time. Obviously, once there's a big stash that's taken care of, but for any new sloe gin makers eager to get started, patience really is a virtue.
ReplyDelete*I do actually keep them, and made some sloe and apple 'cheese' (like jelly without all the straining) last year. Results as yet uncertain...