A number of years ago I purchased Booze by John Wright (2013, Bloomsbury). Booze, the twelfth installment in a series of River Cottage Handbooks, guides the reader on how to make infusions, wine, cider and beer. Other handbooks in River Cottage series explore subjects such as Chicken & Eggs; Curing & Smoking; Edible Seashore; Hedgerow; Pigs & Pork; Sea Fishing; and Veg Patch.
I bought Booze to learn more about British infusions. Wright marries his knowledge as a “dedicated forager” with his enthusiasm for infusing. He writes that “few items of vegetable matter have escaped my infuser’s hand.” Case in point, Booze sports a recipe for Oak moss gin.
Booze covers four types of infusions: fruit, nut, floral and plant. Wright instructs the reader on the making of Sloe gin; Sea buckthorn vodka; Haw gin; Gorse flower white rum; Sweet vernal grass vodka, and even Absinthe. But perhaps the Best In Show infusion in Booze goes to Blackberry whisky. Wright writes: “[it] is one of the finest of all infusions, a rival to even sloe gin.” To make Blackberry whisky you need only sugar in addition to the drink’s titular ingredients. Wright’s instructions follow.
Two-thirds fill a Kilner jar with blackberries, then sprinkle sugar over them until it covers the bottom half of the fruit. The blackberries should be dry for this operation otherwise the sugar will not flow. Top the jar with whisky, close the lid and shake gently. Store in a dark cupboard and shake once a day until the sugar has dissolved.
After 6 months, decant the infused whisky into a bottle and store for at least a year to mature.
Since buying Booze I’ve made three batches of Blackberry whisky. I call my 2015 batch The Inferno because I completely disregarded Wright’s counsel on whisky selection: “Do use cheap whisky for this recipe as there is a special pit in hell for those who drink good whisky in any way other than on its own.” I dipped into a bottle of Laphroaig Quarter Cask (so, I guess, I’m going to hell). Save your soul and don’t make the same mistake (and furthermore, to my taste, the Laphroaig’s intense peatiness makes it a questionable base solvent).
In 2016 I made two different version of Blackberry whisky: one using a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey and the other with Buffalo Trace Kentucky Bourdon Whiskey. Both batches taste promising. I used foraged Evergreen blackberries in the bourdon version and a mixture of Evergreen and Himalayan blackberries with the Jameson. Aside: One day I hope to make Blackberry whisky with a local native blackberry variety called the Pacific blackberry or Northwest dewberry. These small berries taste outstanding, but I rarely find even a handful per season. Between the ubiquitous Himalayan and Evergreen blackberries, I prefer the latter, but pick according to your personal taste.
And speaking of taste: How does Blackberry whisky taste? Wright encourages his readers to make this infusion with these words: “For those few who do not like blackberries and the many more who do not like whisky I have some good news. Given time—about a year, but two is better—the flavour mellows into something quite its own, not dissimilar from port, and with never a hint of peat bogs and barely a trace of blackberry crumble.” No hint of peat…unless, of course, you use Laphroaig. Did I mention that I have a special pit in hell?