Rheum rhubarbarum

It's all about rhubarb today, the first stalks are finally here, as pink as seaside rock, - juicy and sharp and fragrant. I've spent the morning slicing it with the lethal Japanese knife which was a wedding present a few years ago. So sharp it cuts through many stems cleanly and at once, and makes quick work of a few pounds of fruit.

Rhubarb has been in cultivation since at least 2700BC. It has been a much used herb in Chinese medicine for thousands of years, and was considered so potent that it was advised to be taken in small amounts only. This has not prevented my excesive eating of rhubarb crumble. One of it's main properties is as a digestive tonic, so combined with fresh root ginger in my rhubarb and ginger vodka it surely is a perfect post feast digestif.

Last March I was dazzled by the sweet acid bright colours of the forced rhubarb currently in season and used some for the rhubarb and ginger vodka. Gorgeous colour, but tasted of nothing. I've got 20 litres of delicate rosé coloured liqueur with only a shadow of the tart juicy flavour that I'm after.
I've decided to re-infuse it with some unforced rhubarb which I've had in the freezer and some fresh ginger. By the time it is done it will then have taken two years, but I think it could be fantastic and will mean I won't waste all that good vodka!

I've entered the 2013 Good Taste food awards with my Damson Gin and the Rhubarb and Ginger Vodka. Judging is in May and June and I'm excited to get some critical feedback.
I'm also linking in with Waltham Forest Fairtrade group to find out about whether Mother's Ruin could be fairtrade. The last few bottles of the gooseberry and elderflower vodka are selling quickly. The heady floral hit is a reminder of spring and sunshine whilst outside the rain is drumming on the roof.

I've also become a member of E17Designers who work as a collective to promote the work of Walthamstow's great community of independent designers and makers through their website and a series of fairs - the next one coming up on May 11th. New link attached to the blog.

Spring is coming?

Spring seems far away as another cold snap chills the market. Thin flurries of snow scurry along Wood St, salt and grit crunches underfoot on the pavements. No fruit to pick but in the orchard the rhubarb planted in November and December is emerging strong and rude after being nipped by the frost.

And my freezer stash of last autumn's sloes and damsons is being steadily raided to ensure a plentiful supply of gin next year.  All of the Christmas profits are being spent on enough spirit to keep me in production 'til May. Check out the recent Costco trolley load, my hands actually shook as I handed over the card to pay for this lot, convincing the man at the till that I was indeed a raging alcoholic. I was amazed I could buy this much alcohol in one go! The taxi driver asked me what kind of party I was having.

This weekend I'm bottling the very last of the the gooseberry and elderflower vodka, with blossom and the sun's warmth a distant memory the intense floral fragrance and rich golden liqueur will lift the spirits.

Seville Season Part 2 - up to my oxters

Three days spent in the vibrant aromatic company of boiling Seville oranges and rum, not a bad use of the dark February days. The house is infused with the smell of marmalade and I'm sure all that citrusy humidity is good for the skin. I've re-jigged the recipe a bit since last year's experiment as I'm keen to make it less cloudy, whilst keeping the deep bitter orange flavour.

30kg of oranges has made about 45 litres of rum liqueur, a drink so darkly decadent that I think it needs a serving suggestion of a small crystal goblet and a recumbent position on velvet cushions.

And as a reward for her heroic slicing and steeping labours, Mother's Ruin is taking a day off from the Gin Palace tomorrow to go to White Hart Lane and cheer for the mighty Spurs. COYS etc. 

Seville season Part 1 - Late night adventures

At last Seville orange season is here and it's time to turn last year's successful experiment with making bitter orange rum into a reality. I've taken the week off work with the plan of making about 40litres of liquid drunken marmalade!

First a ride out on the N26 to New Spitalfields wholesale fruit and veg market with the shopping trolley in tow. To start with a bleak scene round the back of the now closed Olympic Park. Midnight rain at the tipping point of sleet, sodium glow and slick shining black roads. Once through the gates the buzz of the market is felt, and the light of the big warehouses pulls me in. Inside a wonderland of brilliantly coloured and high stacked vegetables and fruit, twirling balletic mini forklift trucks zipping in and out of the aisles, traders and buyers chewing the fat, and down a small side corridor boxes of wonderful  knobbly Sevilles.

We struck an excellent deal and filled the trolley to bursting with bitter and sweet oranges and hauled them off into the wet East London night.

By Ambrose Heath and published in 1939 by Faber and Faber
Foreword
"This collection of divers drinks is offered for
all those occasions when drinking is desirable: on
a winter's evening by the fire, on the shady verge
of the tennis court, at a party, in a pub; with
friends, or aquaintances or those even dearer,
wherever they may happen to be together: to the
advancement of the brewer and the wine mer-
chant, and the confusion of dull dogs"
June 1939

From this wonderful book full of recipes for home made liqueurs and other alcoholic delights I bring you...

The Sloe Gin Rickey
Squeeze the juice of half a good-sized lime into a tumbler containing a lump or two of ice. Add three-quaters of a gill of Sloe Gin, and fill up with cold soda water

Happy New Year 2013

 
The hard frost never came and it rained and rained. The ground was heavy and newly born streams created their own course down through the orchard. Over two days we shifted the bark mulch, bag by sodden bag from Park End Farm stockyard where Brian keeps his vintage tractors.We loaded up our elderly landrover drove the 1/4 of a mile up the hill to home, then unloaded and carried the mulch across the field to spread on the beds.

  The beds looked great when we finished and the sun came out briefly one afternoon and lit up our golden reward.

New Year came and after an lovely evening of prosecco and damson gin cocktails, and a day of loafing and chatting with friends the annual muck day was upon us. Forty bags of the very finest horse manure to feed the new rhubarb crowns and gooseberry and blackcurrant bushes. Delivered curbside by an impressively butch truck. And thank god for the pirated Wickes trolley which meant we could shift eight bags at a time. It's got my name on it.