Originally published in the Kildare Nationalist newspaper.
Before every home acquired the sterilised waterfalls of our
taps, many people often had only lake or river water to drink, which carried
serious diseases at a time when there were no doctors and the average lifespan
was about 30. Letting yeast ferment vegetable matter drove out most other
microscopic life, making water relatively pure without the cords of firewood
needed to boil everything -- and beer and wine were born.
Thus, alcohol was a major part of life in earlier eras,
offering water, calories and vitamins. Medieval Britons, for example, were
estimated to drink four litres of beer a day; I am told that the teetotal
movement of the 19th century, which encouraged people to drink tea
instead, actually caused malnutrition in rural Britain.
These days, for many Westerners, “wine” refers only to grape
wine and “beer” only to brew from barley and hops - yellow in the USA, often
black in Ireland – but you can make wine and beer from almost any edible plant
and some inedible ones. I have seen
recipes for wines from oak leaves, squash, parsley, and all manner of common
plants. In the past year I have made wine from nettles, cowslips, elderflowers
and meadowsweet – the last being the tufty weed that grows along the canal
banks in August.
In the autumn hawthorn leaves fall to expose the bright red
berries – haws -- covering the bare branches. Haws taste mealy and bland raw,
but they make an excellent wine, and as they were the most abundant fruit in
the hedgerow, that’s how I used them.
The details differ by the kind of wine you’re making, but
the basic recipe is this: First pour six litres of water into a large pot, and bring
it to a boil. Then dump in two litres of whatever vegetable matter you’re using
and two halved lemons, boil it again, and turn the heat off. Stir in a kilogram
of sugar slowly until it dissolves, and waited for the liquid to cool to blood
temperature. Then pour it into a cleaned and sterilised bucket and add wine
yeast – although bread yeast will do in a pinch -- and cover the bucket and set
it in the closet.
Over the next week check the bucket periodically; it should
be bubbling away slowly as the yeast turns sugar into alcohol and carbon
dioxide. After a week or so, sterilise a carboy – a large jug with an S-shaped
valve on the top – and strain the wine into it. Carboys let you store wine
during the weeks or months that it still might build up some air pressure,
before you pour it into conventional wine bottles.
After pouring the wine into the carboy, you will have some
leftover vegetable matter, and you could compost them, feed them to chickens or
– as I did – combine them with apple peelings and make them into jam.
When I did this with haws from our hawthorn trees I
calculated the total cost at three euros for two kilos of sugar, plus the
minimal cost of heating the stove for a short time, and not counting the
initial investment of the carboy or yeast. The experiment resulted in about six
bottles of good wine and two jars of jelly.
Not all your experiments will turn out well. All my wines
based on flowers or weeds -- like cowslip, elderflower, meadowsweet and nettle
-- turned out fine, whereas my vegetable wines of parsnip, ginger and beetroot
tasted awful for some reason. Likewise, the haw wine tasted fine while new -- as a fizzy, lightly alcoholic drink -- and some of it aged into a fine haw wine. The rest aged, unexpectedly, into a very nice vinegar.
Either way
they won’t taste exactly like grape wines from the store. Try mixing them with
juice and water at first, or store-bought white wine, to make a punch, to
acclimatise yourself to the taste of home-made.
Top photo: Wines from left to right -- meadowsweet, parsnip and ginger, elderflower, haw, more meadowsweet and elderberry.
Middle photo: Some of the ingredients I've used for wine and jam, clockwise - orange peel, crabapple, elderberry, blackberry, sloe and rosehips. All but the orange peel my daughter and I picked on our property.
Bottom photo: Haw wine while fermenting.
2 comments:
Excellent! Just today, my housemate suggested we make hard crabapple cider using crabapples from the tree out back this summer here in Minnesota. I looked it up and discovered it was easy and inexpensive enough to try, so we're gonna do it.
Oak leaf wine? Now *that* is an intriguing idea. I'd be worried that the tannin would make it too harsh for my wimpy palate, but I may try it anyway.
Love your blog, by the way, old friend. My best to the ladies.
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