Summer scent and brain-boosting blackcurrants.

Summer has returned! After months of complaining about the rain and wind, as a Brit I am obviously now complaining about the heat. It’s only been about 29 – 30 degrees (80+ for our American friends) but it’s enough to drive us all to shorts with socks and sandals and the smell of burnt meat coming from neighbours’ barbecues. At the beginning of the month we had some good news about the health of our lovely old Labrador, so we took a short break to celebrate. We had a few days glamping in Suffolk and recharged our batteries ready for a summer of food production. It did us all a world of good.

The flower garden in July

In the past I’ve only really grown flowers as companion plants for my vegetables. Marigolds and nasturtiums are a favourite as they attract pests away from my tomatoes and beans. This year I’ve been inspired to grow more, as my greenhouse buddies have given me several varieties of flowering plants which are new to me such as Snapdragons, Galliarda and Penstemons. There is so much more colour this July.

I’ve also been cutting sweet peas for weeks now. They fill the house and garden with a heavy scent and they make a great present for kind friends who do me favours. They’ve almost become a form of currency.

My surroundings as I take a “Blogging Break.”

In the fruit cage

We have so many different types of fruit that I can never really retain all the weather and feeding information I need to explain why one fruit thrives while another suffers. Our raspberries are terrible this year but we’ve had twice the weight of blackcurrants. I can only assume it’s because of all the rain.

When it comes to superfoods, blueberries seem to have the best PR. Blackcurrants, however, can have four times the anthocyanin levels of blueberries, 38 times more vitamin C and double the antioxidant activity. (I’m quoting a study referred to in The Guardian.) Anthocyanins have even been linked with a reduced risk in dementia. I’m trying to find a way to eat blackcurrants raw (they are SO sharp) because cooking them really reduces the anthocyanin levels. That hasn’t stopped me making jam and I stew them very briefly to put in ice cream. Ooh hang on! My home-made Cassis uses raw fruit. I wonder if that counts….

The only way to get a reliable source of blackcurrants in the UK is to grow your own because they are very hard to come by in the shops. Apparently, a very large proportion of the UK blackcurrant crop goes to Ribena. This is because commercial growers can take 6 years to make a profit out of their crop and surplus can be difficult to predict. Ribena offers them favourable contracts which enable them to continue producing the fruit.

And on that note, bearing in mind that I am a linguist who last studied very, very basic science in 1981…..here is a recipe for brain-boosting/fogging, liver-damaging Cassis. After a couple of glasses you won’t care if I’m talking rubbish. Trust me!

Cassis Recipe

Ingredients

Note: This is overwhelmingly sweet to my taste so I use a lot less sugar. As long as you have alcohol and a reasonable amount of sugar it won’t go off. So let’s have no more complaints about the “vagueness” of my recipes. It’s not rocket science, darlings, use your initiative.

• 450g of blackcurrants (or as many as you can get hold of)
• 450g of sugar (if you have already lost most of your teeth – I think I used about 250g this time. Who knows? Life is short.)
• 570ml brandy – or possibly a mix of brandy and vodka. I have 2 official recipes, one with brandy and one with vodka. I mix and match depending on what I have in the cupboard.

Method

Crush blackcurrants. Mix with sugar. Add alcohol. Stir to dissolve sugar. Put it all in a jar. Leave the jar on a windowsill for a month and shake it regularly. Strain liquid from fruit and put the liquid in a sterilised bottle. It is now ready to drink. (Having said that, I’ve been dipping into this year’s jar already….can you tell?)

Next – put the fruit in a lined baking tray and cover with melted chocolate. Allow to cool. Stuff face full of alcoholic chocolate. Next time anyone suggests you’ve put on weight, once they’ve peeled themselves off the floor, tell them it’s because of the menopause. Here endeth the lesson.