Alchemy of flowers

Most of us, faced with the delightful problem of an over-abundance (is there such a thing?) of flowers, cut bouquets to bring inside. But as wonderful as bunches of fresh flowers are, there's a whole lot more you can do with your excesses of flowers and herbs from the garden.

Assuming that you grew them organically, of course, or at least without the application of any chemicals to the plants themselves, you can use many flowers and all herbs to create old-fashioned, gourmet syrups, ratafias, liqueurs, and wines. Performing this sort of kitchen alchemy with your blossoms and herbs will transport you right back to another, gentler age. I guarantee you will find the process incredibly enjoyable, and the results will make gifts your friends will fight for--if you can stand to part with your treasures. So ask them to start saving empty bottles for you.

Have you ever been to a cafe where behind the bar, they had an array of flavored syrups, such as cherry, almond, strawberry, and peach, for adding to sparkling water, coffees, or teas? These have their roots in an ancient tradition of brewing infusions, syrups, wines, and liqueurs from plants.

I don't think any other culture has a richer tradition of this sort than France. The French concoct drinks from absolutely every plant that isn't downright poisonous--and even from a few that are! While I'm not going to tell you how to make the infamous absinthe (now illegal in France), it is true that absinthe, a strong alcohol flavored with Artemisia absinthum and other plants, falls very much within this French drink-concocting tradition.

The origins of this craft are mingled inextricably with those of herbal medicine, as decoctions, infusions, and tinctures of aromatic plants were first prepared for their health benefits. Of course, the French still avidly believe in the health benefits of alcoholic beverages, beginning with the apéritif to stimulate the appetite before dinner right on through the bottles of wine to the digestif to aid digestion after the repast.

I am lucky to own a wonderful book called Elixirs et Boissons Retrouvés (Rediscovered Elixirs and Beverages) by Gilbert Fabiani. Unfortunately available only in French, it contains 1,252 recipes for elixirs, drinks, and liqueurs made from everything from apricots to violets. The author collected these recipes from family notebooks all over the many regions of France, each of which has its traditional beverages derived from whatever fruits, flowers, and herbs are locally available.

Lavishly illustrated with old bottle labels of the wonderful beverages of yesteryear, this book is handily organized by ingredient plant in alphabetical order. In fact, recipes are included for 167 plants, plus milk, eggs, and honey. Among the plants are some I'll bet you never thought of doing anything with, including alchemilla, artichoke, hawthorn, primroses, and Shirley poppies (Papaver rhoeas).

Known as coquelicots in French, Shirley poppies are a much-loved wildflower all over Europe, and around the Mediterranean basin into northern Africa. With such a wide distribution, no wonder the resourceful French dreamed up a number of coquelicot beverages. Poppy petals are what are filling the right-hand basket in the main photo of this article.

What did I do with all those poppy petals? I crushed them in a mortar, reducing them to a mere fraction of their former volume. Then I put them in a clean jar, and covered them with an equal volume of 40% unflavored alcohol. (In France, unflavored eau de vie is sold just for this purpose.) You can use vodka or another neutral alcohol. Whatever you use, it will turn a wonderful deep, inky red color.

I added a piece of fresh, organic lemon peel, covered the jar, and am leaving it to macerate for 10 days. Then I will filter it, make a syrup of an equal volume of sugar and water, and add half as much cooled syrup as there is alcohol to the poppy infusion. This final mixture I will decant into a pretty bottle, cork, and label. Voilà! Liqueur de coquelicots, ready for mixing with champagne for a coquelicot kir royale maison--or homemade--as the French say. And in French, for something to be prepared "maison" is the highest accolade of quality.



Have an abundance of wonderfully fragrant, preferably heirloom, and definitely unsprayed roses? Well, the possibilities for rose alchemy are almost endless. Gather the blossoms in the morning after the dew dries. And then decide what you want to do with them. One of the most wonderful things I did last weekend was prepare a rose syrup à l'ancienne (in the ancient way). I layered the rose petals with sugar in a glazed earthenware jar.


The exact quantities aren't important; just start with lots of petals, and make successive layers of petals-sugar-petals-sugar... The petals will still show through the sugar. I used about a kilo of sugar for the roses you see in the photo of the basket above.

Then, improvise a rigid round to fit inside the jar. Use either wood, styrofoam wrapped with saran, or a plate, if you're lucky enough to have one that will fit neatly within your container. Place a heavy weight, such as a large bottle of Evian, on top of the round. The roses will begin to give off juice and collapse in volume. Leave for 2-4 days in a cool place.

Then, filter the rich, fragrant essence-of-rose syrup that has gathered around the petals through several layers of dampened cheesecloth or a jelly-straining bag. Heat the resulting syrup just to a boil to stop any fermentation, and store in clean jars or bottles in a cool place or in the refrigerator. What a luxury! Homemade sirop de roses to flavor kirs, cakes, sparkling water, or tea...

If you're craving something stronger, mix 100 g (about 4 oz) of fresh, fragrant, non-sprayed rose petals with 500 g (about a pound) of sugar. Allow to macerate overnight. Add 1/2 liter (2 c) fresh water and stir, let sit for an hour or so. Strain through a very fine mesh and add 2 c. of unflavored eau de vie or other neutral alcohol. Pour into a bottle or jar and allow to age in a cool place for 1 month. Filter again into a fresh bottle and allow it to age as long as you can resist in a cool place. Liqueur de roses! A votre santé!



That's the seed head of the biennial herb angelica in the photo. Angelica has been prized since the dawn of time for its medicinal properties, and so to be sure, my little cookbook of magic has lots of recipes for it. With the large, hollow angelica stems, I'm making "household liqueur" (liqueur de ménage), which I'm assuming from the quaint name is good for whatever happens to be ailing you. Macerate 100 g (4 oz) of angelica stems (cut into short pieces), a piece of cinnamon bark and a head of nutmeg in 1 quart of unflavored eau de vie or other neutral alcohol. Seal in a jar for 1 month. Make a syrup by boiling 11 oz. of sugar with the same weight of water for 5 minutes. Mix the cooled syrup with the maceration and again age for a month. Filter into bottles, stopper, and allow to age ("if possible," advises my book) before enjoying.

And with those beautiful fragrant seeds? Well, I'm going to save a few to plant right away so that I'll have more angelica next year. With the rest, I'm making "liqueur of the convent." What's in it? Angelica seeds, a vanilla bean, coriander...Tell you what--email me for the recipe.

I can hardly wait to get back to my potager this weekend to do some more brewing. What's in the offing? Well, I have a huge crop of fraises des bois, those hyper-fragrant alpine strawberries, coming along. Actually what I have aren't alpine strawberries, but an ancient variety of them with larger and even more fragrant fruit. Liqueur de fraises des bois, anyone?

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Products of Interest:

Collection Herbier--Poppy and wheat