  A chat about cherry brandy — Cherry gin — And cherry whisky — Sloe gin — Highland cordial — What King Charles II. swallowed — Poor Charles! — Ginger brandy — Orange-flower brandy — Employment of carraway seeds — The school treat — Use and abuse of aniseed — Do not drink quince whisky — Try orange brandy instead — A hell-broth — CuraÇoa — Cassis — Chartreuse — The monks as benefactors — Some quaint tavern “refreshers” — Kirschenwasser — Noyeau — Parfait amour — Maraschino — A valuable ginger cordial. Let us commence with that grand old British eye-opener, Cherry Brandy.There are more ways than one of making this. Here is an old recipe.
Another way, and a nicer; the idea of squeezing cherries to pieces with the human hands savouring of barbarism—and fingers.
It will be noticed that no mention of sugar is made in the above. The necessary quantity would naturally vary, according to the description of cherry employed. Yet another—my way.
It should be borne in mind that these cordials are far better when home-made—provided always {187} the best materials be used. The cherry brandy, sloe gin, etc. etc., which is bought is not always made with ’65 cognac. Remember how many people have to make some sort of profit out of what can be purchased over the counter. One more way.
Cherry Gincan be made in the same way as any of the above, merely substituting Old Tom for cognac. And if you want to make it extra good, use sugar-candy instead of the ordinary “best lump.” Cherry Whiskywas introduced to the public at the Brewers’ Exhibition in the Royal Agricultural Hall, London, in 1898. I have not tasted it, but suppose that the method of making it is similar to any of the above recipes, substituting Glenlivet. But I fancy brandy or gin would always be preferable; for whisky does not blend well with fruit. {188} Sloe Gin.The difference between this cordial as made at home, and allowed to mature gradually, and the stuff retailed in taverns, is marked. ’Tis a “refresher” which has only become popular within the last few years; and consequently within a radius of twenty miles from London, the sloe-bushes are stripped of their fruit, before it is fit to pick, by the poorer classes, who can obtain sixpence per pound—or something like that price—for sloes in the market. But the sloe should not be picked for this purpose until it has experienced at least one night’s frost.
A great deal of the alleged sloe gin sold is light in colour, and has evidently been hurried in its preparation. A great deal more is quite innocent of sloe juice, and is merely inferior gin, diluted and coloured. The orthodox sloe gin should bear the hue of “fruity” port wine. See that you get it. Highland Cordial.Here is another recipe into which the wine of bonnie Scotland enters. At one time the {189} cordial was popular with the Scots, who now, however, prefer their whisky unadorned.
A cordial which is but seldom asked for nowadays was known in the seventeenth century as King Charles II.’s Surfeit-Water.
And then notify the undertaker, I should think. The Merry Monarch had his faults, but, surfeit or no surfeit, it is hard to believe that a king could bring himself to lap such a {190} “hell-broth” as the above. Pah! Let us take the taste out with Ginger Brandy.
Orange-flower Brandy.There is not much of this in the market, or the store-cupboard.
Carraway Brandy.
And the author of the above adds: “’Tis a good cordial.” Three hundred years ago carraways invariably figured at the dessert-table in England. The seeds now appear either in cakes for school-treats, sugar-plums, or the favourite liqueur known as KÜmmel.This is principally made in Russia, and is an excellent stomachic. Own brother to the {191} carraway seed is the anise seed, which appears in a liqueur, made chiefly at Bordeaux, and called Anisette.Personally, I prefer KÜmmel, and the other is more of a drug than an enlivening potion. Cough remedies for the most part contain anise seed, which is also largely used at a “drag” hunt, hounds being especially keen on the scent. Apricot Brandy.This is not often met with away from its home in the United States.
This apricot brandy should be prepared in the month of July, and kept at least twelve months before using. Quince Whisky.I once superintended the brew of a decoction of quinces and Scotch whisky. The quinces were treated exactly as the apricots are in the above recipe, and we kept the stuff bottled up for a year. I don’t think I ever tasted anything nastier. {192} Orange Brandyshould be made in the month of March, and, well-made, is the best of all cordials, being especially valuable on a cold morning just before proceeding with the hounds to draw Newton Wood.
The ancients apparently interpreted the word “cordial” in a different way to our later way; and their cordials were chiefly used in the sick-room. The Saffron Cordial,for instance, was chiefly employed to cure fainting fits, the ague, and the smallpox. I think I should have preferred all three complaints at once.
As Hamlet observes, on a memorable occasion: “Oh, horrible, horrible, most horrible!” CuraÇoais not only the best known of all liqueurs, but the most wholesome. It will blend equally well with brandy and whisky. The best, in fact the original brand, is made in Amsterdam, with the peel of a very rare orange which grows in the island of CuraÇoa, and falls from the tree before it is ripe. The peel of this is dried, and is known in the trade as the CuraÇoa of Holland, to distinguish it from other CuraÇoas which have not the same property, although they are often sold in place of it. The Dutch distillers naturally keep their process a secret, but the French imitators declare that the Dutch secret is merely as follows: that five kilogrammes of dried peel of the CuraÇoa of Holland and the zests of eighty fresh oranges are submitted to the action of sixty litres of alcohol (85 degrees, French measurement), and that, save in the colour, there is no real difference between white CuraÇoas and brown. At all events either is very useful in a cocktail, or swizzle; and there are many restorative compounds, or “tonics” as they are called, into which the liqueur enters. {194} Cassis,owing to the ridiculously-high duty imposed upon its importation, is comparatively unknown in England, although it can be obtained at every little roadside cabaret in France, cheap enough. The cassis of Dijon has a great reputation as a cooling drink. There is an infinitesimal portion of alcohol in it, and it can, I should say, be easily made at home by anybody who possesses some nice ripe black-currants. Still the nearest the ordinary English householder gets to cassis is in the manufacture of so-called “black-currant tea”; and you only get that when you have a sore throat. Chartreuse.One of the most severe sects of monks manufacture a liqueur which is the highest prized and priced of all, for the benefit of Sybarites who deny themselves no luxury in life. St. Bruno the founder of this order chose for his monastery the most desolate and barren spot he could find in the mountains of DauphinÉ, and forbade his followers to eat the flesh of bird or beast; the fruit of the vine and strong waters being likewise defended. But one of them discovered, nevertheless, that a most seductive liquid could be distilled from plants, chief amongst them being Angelica Archangelica—a plant which it is probable did not receive its holy name until trial had been made of the distillation. The Carthusian monks have the sole right of selling this liqueur—a right which brings them in a very {195} substantial revenue; for Chartreuse is esteemed—in France, at all events—above all chasses. The yellow kind is the best, and the white mildest of the three, of which the green is fiery. Personally, I prefer curaÇoa, or, better still, cognac ’65. The name of the “little refreshers” consumed at tavern-bars in large cities is legion. I have heard the following compounds called for, at different times: sherry-and-bitters—there being at least half a dozen sorts of bitters—gin-and-ditto, whisky-and-ditto; vermouth (Italian or French), vermouth-and-sloe-gin, gin-and-sherry, gin-and-orange-gin, sloe-gin, gin-and-sloe-gin (commonly called “slow-and-quick”), curaÇoa-and-brandy, whisky alone, brandy alone, gin alone. And in the Borough there is a dreadful mixture known by the appropriate name of Twist.“This,” says an esteemed correspondent, “is a favourite liqueur of the porters in the hop-warehouses. You go into the ‘Red Cross,’ for instance, and ask for a ‘’alf-quartern o’ Twist in a three-out glass,’ and you will find that it consists of equal parts of rum and gin, and is a powerful pick-me-up after a wet night.” I should question the “pick-me-up” part of this story; therefore shall not schedule “Twist” in my list of Restoratives, in the next chapter. Kirschenwasser.This is a wholesome and reviving liqueur made from the cherries which grow in the Black Forest. It is not as potent as maraschino, which {196} is also made from cherries, in another place. But the Black Forest cherry-water requires a little treatment to render it palatable.
Noyeauis made from white brandy and apricot-kernels, and is the sweetest, as well as the most pernicious of all liqueurs. I do not know how many glasses it would take to kill an ordinary man, but most people know that noyeau contains hydrocyanic acid of which none but those tired of the world would care to drink too much. Parfait Amour“What’s in a name?” This is simply bad orange-bitters, and there is neither love nor perfection in it. But they say that in dear old England, in the olden time, before oranges could be bought at three-halfpence per dozen, it was customary for a lover, on New Year’s Day, to present his sweetheart with an orange stuck all over with cloves, as an emblem of Perfect Love. The sweetheart of to-day prefers a bangle, or a bicycle. One more liqueur, Maraschino.This is a bitter-sweet liqueur made at Zara from the kernel of the Marasca cherry, or gean {197} of Dalmatia. The word implies bitterness, yet the liquid is sweet enough to catch flies. “It is a curious fact,” says a modern writer, “in natural history that the fair sex prefer a sweet liqueur to the finest wine; and they have such a tendency to maraschino that Mr. Hayward has proposed that whereas the toast most honoured among men is Wine and Women, they should adopt as their own return toast—Men and Maraschino.” The French make different imitations of the true liqueur, one of them from peach-stones, which they call “Marasquin de pÊches.” And in the true Maraschino of Zara there be a few peach-stones mixed with those of the geans. These are small and quite black, and are fermented first with honey, then with the leaves and kernels of the fruit, and are last of all distilled and sweetened with sugar. One more cordial, to finish the chapter. The recipe was given in the Lady’s Pictorial, by Mrs. C. E. Humphry, the delightful and ever-welcome “Madge” of Truth. I can vouch for the efficacy of the potion. Ginger Cordial.
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