Currently, Currants.

Well, yesterday's doctor visit confirmed that baby number 2 will likely be late, like baby number 1 was.  Am I such a good hostess that my children just don't want to enter the world?  As I look past my tomorrow due date, I try to remember to be patient and also try to remember that there will still be a good amount of summer left after I get back to feeling normal.

Part of my impatience has to do with the normalcy that I crave.  Ordinarily, as soon as the weather warms I find myself interested in searching out new and different things to preserve and then beyond excited to take their pictures and write about them.  My new normalcy is the feeling that I can't really plan anything, go anywhere too far away, and certainly not to wait around on ripening produce.  It's frustrating for me because I'm not a good idler, I prefer my old spirit of juggernauting forward, that always propelling forward motion that feels so good, especially in the summertime.

When I woke up early on July 4th (every day, I wake up at exactly 5:22, don't ask me why...), I found a message from a localish orchard; the currants I'd been looking forward to experimenting with for the past 2 years were finally ready, and the farmers had two ice cream pails already picked and waiting for me if I was still interested, and hadn't had my baby yet.  For a brief moment, I felt my old self return.  I hopped out of bed and immediately searched my sources to see about how many currants I'd need to do the few things I had in mind.

I'm not  used to depending on others to do what I'd like, especially when it comes to climbing behind the wheel of the car and taking off on a whim.  In our family, I'm the usually always the driver, in part because I just love the road (and in part because I'm a terrible passenger).  But this close to a delivery date, I'm not driving much - and not very far.  I was actually surprised that my Husband offered to drive us down to the little farm where the currants were, even more surprised that he tried different varieties of currants and gooseberries, and was interested in the workings and stories that the husband and wife team running Klee's Out on a Limb Acres had to offer.  It was a perfect afternoon, and even though the journey wasn't actually so far away, it was was just rural enough to satisfy the summertime longings for the country that always plague me - and it was even better that my boys were both appearing to be enjoying every minute as much as I was.

Currant Jelly.

Last year, our whole state was devastated by a strange and early spring promptly followed by a killing frost.  Sadly it left us without many cherries, apples, and other orchard fruits, and when you could find them, they were almost prohibitively expensive.  The entire season was decimated for small timers like Klee's - they had no crops for sale last year at all - and that was the year that I read about them and found that they grew old-timey things I was looking for like gooseberry, quince, and currants.

I have had currants on the brain for two years.  It's been more than that long since I first had a tipple made by friends Paul and Lori of the Burp! blog, and I was really smitten.  Their liqueur had been aged for quite some time by the time I tried it, and it was earthy, complex, and just plain lovely.  As I'd never even seen currants growing, and never picked or tasted one, I longed to find a source so that I could anticipate tiny cupfuls of that delicious liqueur of my own making - and experiment with other things as I usually do when I get too excited over a new best friend and overbuy considerably.

Burp! Crème de cassis recipe.

I double checked with Lori to be sure the drink I had tasted so long ago was made with red currants and vodka, because as I recall it was dark in color and so deep and raisiny tasting I couldn't imagine the jewel red berries resting out so much.  I made the recipe exactly as they suggest, not adding or subtracting a single thing... and I plan to age it until at least Christmas before trying it.

I had just enough Mount Gay rum left in the bottle (given to me so I could make flourless chocolate rum cakes for a friend's birthday in January) to do a batch of Pam Corbin's Currant Shrub.  I was under the impression that shrubs were usually non-alcoholic, sweetened vinegar bases that were mixed with seltzer.  But, in her book The River Cottage Preserves Handbook, she details this one made with red currant juice and rum (or brandy).  Also taking several months to mature, I figured another thing to try around Christmastime would be welcome.

Pam's shrub is so easy to make.  I knew I was already doing a batch of currant jelly and simply steamed enough extra currants to allow for the 1 1/4 cups for this recipe.  Given my state of pregnancy, I steamed the berries on July 4th, and made the jelly and liqueurs the next day.  For every pound of currants, I used Linda Ziedrich's advice and added 1/2 cup of water.  (I did 4 1/2 lbs of currants and 2 1/4 cups water, and had more than enough juice for this recipe and a batch of jelly.)

Pam Corbin's Currant Shrub

•  1 1/4 c. red currant juice
•  2 1/2 c. rum (or brandy)
• finely grated zest of one orange
• 1 t. freshly grated nutmeg
• 1 1/2 c. granulated sugar

Mix the currant juice with rum (or brandy), orange zest, and nutmeg.  (Currants are naturally high in pectin, and adding the juice to alcohol may cause it to form a gel, as it did for me.  Corbin says it will turn back to a more liquid state after the sugar is added.)  Let this mixture stand for 7-10 days well sealed and in a dark place.

Transfer the mixture to a pan, add sugar and heat gently just to dissolve sugar, about 140 degrees.  Strain the mixture through muslin or cheesecloth, decant into a sterilized jar (I saved the rum bottle), seal tightly, and let age for several months (again, in a cool, dark place) before enjoying.  Drink within 2 years.

The way the currant juice gelled with the alcohol and suspended the orange zest within the jar was absolutely mesmerizing.  As was the intoxicating (literally) scent of warm orange, nutmeg, rum, and currant.  It was hard to stash this one away in a dark place, I can tell you that.

After I had my liqueurs underway and tucked away, I tackled the jelly - which is so simple.  Both Linda Ziedrich and Pam Corbin  had methods that used equal measures juice and sugar - so I used 4 cups juice and 4 cups raw sugar.  I thought maybe I'd like to add something "unique" to the jelly, but once the sugar dissolved and I tasted it, I couldn't bear to mar the clean flavor.  It is simple and delicious, and though I've pledged not to overmake in the preserves department this year, the 5 half pints of jelly are very welcome on my shelf!

Sugar preserved quince, and fresh currant jelly.

I couldn't be happier with this 4th of July, and even though my spirits were dampened a bit with the thoughts of an overdue baby, I have to say the currants broke me free of feeling a bit sorry for myself.  If you are local and looking for a nice little farm to pick your own currants, gooseberries, quince, elderberries and other old-fashioned orchard fruits, check out Klee's!  They have a webpage, and update a Facebook page (and are quick to return questions if you give them a call.  Give them a "like" to stay updated, and take a little drive.  Candy shared with me a little jar of quince, which was also a first taste for me.  If I'm feeling up to it, I plan to get some to play around with... just as soon as it ripens, and this baby comes!

Adventures in Elderberries (and Pontack Sauce)

The past week seems to have stood still and flown by at the same time. I feel like I was gone for about a month, which is often the case when I go out of town. A storm rolled through the day before I left, rendering my cell phone completely unusable for the duration of my stay at the farm. That only added to the sense of complete relaxation, one that made it harder than ever to return to the city.

After our long weekend, my Kiddo seems to be adjusting much better than I am to full day kindergarten. I feel a sense of emptiness, and I feel busier than ever. I contemplate finding a job or a way to make some on-the-side-money, but ever increasingly, I feel happy that I can call myself a HomeMaker.

I did bring back plenty to keep me busy, too. I had watermelons and paper bags crammed full of elderberries. Elderberry bushes grow wild on my Parents' property in many places and though I missed the blossoms this year for cordials, my Mom kept an eye on their sporadic ripening so that I could play with them. She only made syrup once with them just after we first moved to the farm. She wasn't overly excited with the flavor, so she hasn't bothered to make anything with them since. I was more than excited at the prospects of old-fashioned-y elixirs and syrups, and of course the chance for wild, free kitchen experiments. That plummy blue black color kind of got me too...

The bushes were draped with heavy berries, some overripe and some just perfect. My Mom and Dad had picked some for the week or so prior to my visit and had them waiting in bags in the fridge, figuring that if I were to make juice from them, they would rehydrate in the steam bath. My Mom and I picked 3 pounds fresh and stemmed them carefully. A pound went directly into a pound of honey to make a raw syrup. This is the way Linda Ziedrich prefers and I could immediately see why. The flavor of the earthy berries is brought to life under the cloak of clover honey. I'm planning to strain out the spent berries in another few days and try making Julia's Fruit Pulp Cake with the discard.

I dumped a couple of pounds into a quart of cider vinegar to flavor. Using another Pam Corbin recipe, I did this first using the sour cherries, and I am completely smitten. I don't heat the vinegar more than to gently warm the sugar into a melted state, this way I preserve the raw vinegar and trick myself into thinking it is better for me. I can see using the same method for just about any berry or fruit and I can see my love for drinking vinegars increase with every attempt. I didn't stem the berries too carefully for this, I dropped the clusters (cut away from the biggest part of the plant) into my VitaMix and pulsed a few times. Miraculously, the stems floated to the center of the mix where I could easily fish them out. Since I am going to strain this anyway, I feel like I saved myself quite a lot of work coaxing the tiny berries off the stems.

The other recipe that I was looking forward to trying was Pontack Sauce, written by Pam Corbin in The River Cottage Preserves Handbook. I didn't mean not to follow the instructions, but didn't on accident - and the complex umami flavor of this sauce was reward enough for me. Pontack is a English sauce used on meat and game, or to enliven sauces or gravies. Being a base of cider vinegar (I've now gone through nearly a gallon of Bragg's in just over a week and a half...), it has a sour salty nuance, a peppery hot finish, and a round elderberry near-sweetness that is hard to describe. If you have access to 18 oz. or so of elderberries, I'd suggest you make it right away and then let your imagination run away with ideas for future masterpieces.

I should have roasted the elderberries in a slow oven together with the cider vinegar, but roasted them by themselves instead. I kept the oven at 200, and the berries got fat and round with their juices nearly bursting from their thin skins. I did only roast for about 2 hours, not the 6-8 required if I would have followed instruction. I'd like to think this is a quick version of the original recipe, though I have no base to compare it to. I'll probably make another bottle using her more proper procedure since Corbin suggests that it tastes better after aging several months. I'm imagining the finished sauces will taste about the same.

Pontack Sauce (adapted from Pam Corbin)

• 1 lb. 2 oz. elderberries, stripped from stems
• 2 c. cider vinegar
• 4 oz. sliced onion
  
• 1 small clove garlic, sliced
• tiny pinch of mace
• tiny pinch of cloves
• 1 T. tellecherry peppercorns
• 1 inch piece of fresh ginger, bruised

Place berries in a glass baking dish, and roast at 200 degrees for about 2 hours until they are soft and starting to "bleed" their juices. Strain through a sieve (I used a china cap), and transfer juice to a wide non-reactive saucepan.

Add the rest of the ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat, and simmer over low heat for about a half hour. Strain the sauce through a sieve.

Transfer the sauce back to a small saucepan, and bring to a rapid boil. Boil hard for 5 minutes. Pour sauce into a sterilized jar or bottle, and store in a dark, cool place.

The finished sauce was the color of ink. It seems to be one of those things that is deeply mysterious, "kitchen alchemy at its most exciting and rewarding", as Pam Corbin puts it. It's a strange balance of flavor, and it makes me feel empowered to make meat. The River Cottage Preserves Handbook has quickly become one of my favorite books, and I look forward to making many more of her smart recipes.

I should have used shallots, but I couldn't find any.

Do you ever feel like you don't know what you should be doing? That's kind of how I feel right now. Outside of immediate canning and preserving projects, I feel like I should have all sorts of time on my hands. I feel like everyone is asking me what I am doing since I have all this extra time, but the truth is, I am busy and haven't seen any of that extra time yet.

I try to remember how lucky I am to admire things like the color of these elderberries, how it quietly changed to a denim blue when it met the dishwater. All day I wonder what kindergarten must be like, and I'm shocked that I can remember most of what I did when I first attended so many years ago. I hope that I can let go a little, and that the hours I'm spending alone never go misused. I still have a couple bags of elderberries to put to use, so I have a good start.