May musings and elderflower champagne
On awe, patience, wild fermentation, and the alchemy of things.
It’s May, the month of the Flower Full Moon, or Mothers’ Moon, of the first of late sunsets, of blooming St. John’s Wort and Queen Anne’s Lace, of the official statement that the country is already in extreme drought, and also the month of my birthday. Oh, to seek awe in the Anthropocene.
For me, part of seeking awe in these woolly times is to pay close attention to the other-than-human kin, rooted, winged, and four-legged alike, to their habits and rhythms, even while going through constant adaptation to a changing environment. It is when I pay attention, and feel grounded and truly part of our web of interconnectedness, that joy comes easier. And with joy, comes the permission to soak the goodness in the world in, and let it linger in my body. And that’s when I’m struck by awe. In the way the full moon stretches the dark shadows of the trees across the silver-colored forest floor, pulling them in the direction the sun will rise in just a few hours time. In the way the nightingales’ songs fill in the night air that comes in through the bedroom window and permeate my dreams. Awe in the jump of a frog on our pond. In the multitude of colors of the little bug that crawls up my fingers.
Some of my favorite flowers are blooming this month, too. Jasmine, roses, elderflowers. Bringing basketfuls of flowers and herbs into the kitchen, for drying and cooking, is part of my routine for happiness when things feel heavy. With my birthday approaching, I’m starting to think of herbaceous recipes to make that day, and to carefully plan my wildcrafting outings to have the ingredients at hand without over-harvesting any particular location. Since I’ve recently declared that my birthday celebration rhymes with elderflower champagne, and this specific recipe requires a few weeks to make, this is first on my list.
If you haven’t heard of elderflower champagne, you must be wondering what the fuss is all about. I got you! I first learnt about this recipe during my herbal fermentation course. At the time I was experimenting with herbal beers, which require a certain array of supplies, so I felt absolutely enthralled by this recipe because it’s all about wild fermentation. This means there is no need to add any extra yeast, since all the yeast you need is already naturally occurring in the flowers. How beautiful is that? After fermentation, the result is a fizzy, bubbly, only slightly alcoholic, sweet drink, similar to a wild soda. Well, I guess it could be considered a wild soda!
Elderflower champagne is also incredibly easy to prepare and requires minimal supplies (all you need with a large jar/vessel and some flip-top bottles!). It tastes of spring in a bottle, and also of the sound of bees around flowers, and of the sound of creeks along which Elder grows. For me personally, it also tastes of gatherings with loved ones around a table and of nettle cake — but that’s highly subjective!
I’ve prepared my first batch of the month today, to open on May 20th for my gathering. It may be a tad too early then, but that only means the result will be sweeter and less fizzy. I’ll be preparing a few more batches throughout the week, to be opened and tasted through early June. As always, experimentation is key!
Elderflower champagne
(makes 2 L [1/2 gallon]. Double or triple as needed)
ingredients
• 6-8 large heads of elderflower (Sambucus nigra), fresh
• 1 tbsp vinegar (apple cider, or wine vinegar are good options)
• 1 lemon
• 340 g (3/4 pounds) brown or white sugar
• 2 L (1/2 gallon) unchlorinated water
directions
• Place your fresh elderflowers in a basket and leave for a few minutes, to allow for any insects to crawl away. Without washing, put the elderflowers into a large jar/vessel.
• Add vinegar.
• Zest the lemon into the container and add the juiced halves too.
• Add sugar.
• Add water and stir until sugar dissolves.
• Cover the jar/vessel with a cheesecloth or thin towel to keep out critters and let sit in a cool, quiet place for 24 hours.
• Strain and bottle.
• Carefully burp your bottles occasionally if you notice pressure build-up. Your champagne will be ready to drink in 2-3 weeks.
And here’s a story.
Last year, my mother and aunt tasted my champagne around the birthday table. They took a sip, looked at each other, and said “But this is kissangwa!”. I learnt something new that day: kissangwa is a traditional wild fermented drink from Angola, following the same ancestral principle of sugar and wild yeasts dancing together to create carbon dioxide and alcohol. I called my grandmother, who shared with me a few recipes she used to make, and then my grandfather came on the phone as well and shared a few more. Although most kissangwas are made with pineapple, my family confirmed: “Is it bubbly? Then it’s kissangwa”. Of course, often the difference in climates between here and the land of my ancestors is a barrier to exploring that part of my genealogy in terms of folk medicine and foods. But I did feel a little closer to my family, that day. Even though the plants are different, and the yeasts are different, and so are the vessels and the sugar, the same elemental principles were there — a little magic, a little patience, and unending awe at the alchemy of things.
Have a blessed May, everyone.