Food History

Since 5 pm I’ve been slowing down. I’ve had a very busy few weeks and, all going well, now I have a few days to myself to take a breather. This is why tonight you’re getting a news post, with little bits of updates, rather than anything substantial.

In my kitchen, the last of the medlars are bletting and in my lounge room there is a big bowl of persimmons ripening gently. I have three nice coking apples waiting for my imagination to take fire and a freezer full of good stuff for winter cooking. There’s also a big bowl of navel oranges helping me stave off winter bugs.

All my liqueurs are made for the year. Last year and this were dedicated to replenishing my very depleted stocks. Only some years bring forth suitable cherries, for instance, or sport blackberry picking. There were no blackberries these last two years. All the friends I used to go picking with have moved interstate and the other blackberry lovers and I turned out to be very busy during the crucial weeks.

So there is no more blackberry liqueur. There are cherry, various varieties of medlar liqueur and bullaces marinating nicely in quiet dark places. This gives me a nice warm feeling.

I’ll get an even nicer warmer feeling when I decant the drink and eat the fruit. I’m eating alcoholic medlars now, in fact, as I decanted my first-ever medlar liqueur last week. Even after the inroads made into it in March, I have about 600 ml left of that very first bottle. I doubt it will last until the end of winter, because so many people are curious about it. Drinking the liqueur is apparently less worrying than eating an unfamiliar fruit.

I’m not doing food history research this winter as far as I know. If someone desperately needs something, things might change, but I hope I have time to return to a larger project, concerning how modern authors handle the Middle Ages.

This means no cute new insights will grace the blog: you’ll have to wait until I’m teaching the subject again. There’s still a bit of reporting to happen (and some drinks testing) for the prohibition banquet. So it’s not all curious tidbits and interesting books and food ephemera here over winter.

And that’s where I am right now. It’s a tired night and a tired time of year, but there is a quiet peace in it. And there’s lots of warmth emanating from those dark corners where the alcohol is hidden.