Many a winter’s dinner round our kitchen table comes to a close with a glass or two of sloe gin. Heg-pegs, slags, winter kecksies or sloes, the fruit of the blackthorn bush is the tiny, bitter fruit that gives sloe gin its glorious garnet hue. It is what brings the deep damson flavour to what has long been my go-to frosty-night tipple.
Anyone who layered the purple-black fruits with sugar and gin in November (I use less sugar than I used to – 900g of sloes to 500g of caster sugar and 1.5 litres of gin) will probably find it ready about now. Those who didn’t may like to treat themselves to one of the commercial brands that have appeared in recent years to cope with its new role as a co*cktail ingredient. Try a splash in your next negroni.
Finding sloes is easy in the countryside. They line many of our lanes. You’ll find them thick with a snowfall of white blossom in spring, and ready for picking at the end of the year.
Tradition likes a sloe that has seen a morning frost or two, though it is not essential. What is important is that we don’t try to eat them, no matter how much they resemble a damson. Sloe crumble will leave the family reeling in horror, which only endorses my view that this fruit evolved purely for turning into gin.
Once you’ve found your sloes, making the drink is straightforward. You prick the fruit all over with a pin, an endless, mesmerising task which is either infuriating or calming depending on your sensibilities. A more modern suggestion is to freeze the fruit in a ziplock bag then bash it with a rolling pin until the fruit splits a little.
Punctured, the fruit is then dropped into bottles with what seems like a frightening amount of sugar, then topped up with gin. The sugar, which is needed to soften the exceptional bitterness of the sloes, will slowly dissolve, and regular turning of the bottles will help the colour and flavour permeate the spirit. Six to eight weeks later, when you have almost forgotten its existence, you will find a drink of glorious colour – the shade of a papal robe – and nicely balanced between bitter and sweet.
Spirits, to my taste, are more appropriate in a glass than on a plate. Yet a brandy-fuelled fruitcake has a certain majesty. I might draw the line at the notion of a tot in my porridge of a weekday morning, but this is one spirit I am happy to bring into the kitchen.
Pheasant with sloe gin and pears
Just time enough to get one last pheasant diner in before the end of the season.
Serves 4
pheasants 2
onion 1, small
butter 50g
thyme 8 stems
pears 2
chicken stock 250ml
sloe gin 100ml
Set the oven at 220C/gas mark 6.
Remove any stray feathers from the birds then place them in a roasting tin – close, but not touching. You want to give them the opportunity to roast evenly.
Peel and cut the onion into segments then stuff inside the birds. Spread the butter over their skin, season with salt and pepper then add the thyme, poking a few sprigs inside.
Peel and quarter the pears, add to the tin and roast for 20 minutes. Baste with the melted butter and lower the heat to 200C for 20-25 minutes.
The pheasants should be golden and firm to the touch. It is good if they are a little pink inside. Remove from the oven and set somewhere warm.
Place the roasting tin over a moderate heat, pour in the stock and sloe gin, season with salt and pepper, then bring to the boil. Stir, scraping at any flavoursome roasting bits stuck to the tin, check the seasoning, then pour into a warm jug and serve with the pheasant and pears.
Apples in sloe gin syrup
Offer cream, but it will intrude on the quiet purity of the dessert.
Serves 3
caster sugar 200g
water 400ml
apples 6, small and sweet
tangerine 1
cinnamon half a stick
coriander seeds 10
red or blackcurrant jelly 3 tbsp
sloe gin 150ml
Put the caster sugar in a saucepan, pour in the water and bring to the boil. Peel the apples, but leave them whole. If they are more medium than small, then halve and core them, too.
Lower the apples into the boiling syrup, then reduce the heat to a gentle simmer. Peel three wide strips of zest from the tangerine, then drop that into the syrup with the cinnamon stick and coriander seeds.
Stir in the fruit jelly then add the sloe gin and cook for 15-30 minutes, depending on the apple size, until tender. Watch the apples carefully – they go from tender to fluffy collapse in the blink of an eye. Serve warm.
Rhubarb with sloe gin
I have run this idea past you before, but it’s worth repeating, what with all the rhubarb around right now.
Serves 4
rhubarb 700g
sugar 100g
sloe gin 8 tbsp
water 2 tbsp
Set the oven at 180C/gas mark 4. Put the fruit in an ovenproof dish, cutting it in half or into thick pieces no bigger than will comfortably sit in a spoon. Scatter the sugar over evenly, then pour in the sloe gin and water. Place the dish in the oven, covered with a lid or foil, and bake for 40 minutes or so (much will depend on the type of fruit you are using), until the fruit is starting to burst. Remove from the oven and cool a little – it’s best eaten warm rather than hot, though it’s also very good chilled.
Email Nigel at nigel.slater@observer.co.uk. Follow Nigel on Twitter @NigelSlater
