
Chef Thomas
A Proper Hot Toddy
A winter glass of whisky, honey, and lemon, stirred together in a warm mug and carried up to bed when the cough won't leave and the evening has asked you politely to stop.
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A deep, inky cordial made from a glut of August blackcurrants, bottled for the months when summer feels like something you dreamed, and poured over ice when you need proof it happened.
Blackcurrants are a brief, serious fruit. They arrive in late July, peak in August, and are gone almost before you've worked out what to do with them. If you have a bush in the garden, you know the feeling of walking out one morning and finding the branches sagging under the weight of them. If you don't, the market has them for a fortnight and then the stall holders shrug at you and say wait till next year.
So you make cordial. It's the most sensible thing to do with a large quantity of blackcurrants, and one of the few ways to pin their flavour down before it escapes you. The taste is unlike anything else: sharp, smoky, almost resinous, with a depth the supermarket cordials can't begin to reach. Diluted with cold water on a hot afternoon, or with hot water on a cold one, or a splash in a glass of something stronger on the sort of evening that needs it. There are few better feelings than opening a bottle in February and tasting August.
The method is as simple as these things get. Crush the fruit, cover it with water, warm it through, let it sit overnight, strain, sweeten, bottle. That's the whole recipe. The only real skill is not rushing any of the steps, and that's less a skill than a decision.
I wrote it down in the notebook the first year I made it: 'Blackcurrants. Water. Sugar. Patience. Enough for winter, if you ration properly.' I haven't changed it since.
Quantity
1kg
stalks removed, the bigger stems at least
Quantity
700g
Quantity
750ml
Quantity
1
juiced
Quantity
1 teaspoon
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| ripe blackcurrantsstalks removed, the bigger stems at least | 1kg |
| granulated sugar | 700g |
| water | 750ml |
| lemonjuiced | 1 |
| citric acid (optional) | 1 teaspoon |
Pull the blackcurrants from their stalks. The fine ones can stay, they'll be strained out later, but the bigger woody stems need to go. This is the sort of job you do at the kitchen table with the radio on. It takes as long as it takes. Rinse the fruit briefly in a colander and shake it dry.
Tip the currants into a wide saucepan with the water. Crush them gently with the back of a wooden spoon or a potato masher. You're not making a puree, just breaking the skins so the fruit can give up its colour. Bring to a bare simmer over a medium heat. The water will turn from clear to pink to a deep, inky purple in about ten minutes. The kitchen should smell sharp and green and slightly floral, like a hedgerow after rain.
Once it's simmering, turn the heat down and let the currants bubble gently for ten to fifteen minutes. The fruit will collapse into the liquid and the whole pan will go a colour so dark it looks almost black against the side of the pot. Take it off the heat and let it sit for a few minutes. Taste a spoonful of the juice. It should be bracingly tart, almost too much. That's right. The sugar is coming.
Cover the pan and leave it on the side overnight, or for at least eight hours. You can skip this if you're in a hurry, but the cordial is better for the wait. The flavour deepens and the colour darkens further. I usually do this last thing in the evening and strain it first thing the next morning, which feels like a very civilised way to start a day.
Line a sieve with a piece of muslin or a clean tea towel and set it over a large bowl. Tip the fruit and juice in and let it drip. Resist the urge to squeeze the muslin, it clouds the cordial. Let gravity do its work. An hour is usually enough, longer if you have it. You should end up with a glossy, dark juice the colour of a stained-glass window.
Measure the strained juice and pour it back into a clean saucepan. Add the sugar and the lemon juice, and the citric acid if you're using it. Warm gently, stirring, until every grain of sugar has dissolved. Don't let it boil. You're making cordial, not jam. When it's glossy and smooth, pour into sterilised bottles and seal. It'll keep in the fridge for a month or so, longer with the citric acid. If you want to keep it for winter, decant into smaller bottles and freeze what you can't drink now.
1 serving (about 60g)
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