Gooseberry Wine 2021 - The Making Of...

For years we have been saying that our freezer is too small for all the excess fruit that I pick, and that we must investigate getting a small freezer just for wine making. Claire and I are great procrastinators. If you require further evidence, you only need to go into our front room. We have owned the house for six years now and have yet to paint the plaster.

Some of our gooseberries, close up.

Anyway, on Sunday 10th July I went on-line to investigate mini-freezers and about ten minutes later had ordered one. It arrived on Monday. Why I took about four years or so over this, I do not know. Mostly it will be filled with gooseberries this year. Our bushes are rampant. We have at least three varieties and all have had a good summer.

Gooseberries being washed

On Sunday 11th July I went out to harvest 6 lbs for this wine. Those in the back garden are not as far on as those in the front, but I still picked a few from each bush, getting lightly scratched in the process. Why are gooseberry plants quite so defensive of their fruit?

More gooseberries!

In the end, I picked 2 oz less than the 6 lbs required, but that was Good Enough. I put them in our largest cooking pot with 3 pints of water, brought them to the boil and let them simmer for 5 minutes. The whole lot went into my bucket with 2 lbs 14 oz sugar and a further two pints of cold water. I added a teaspoon each of yeast, nutrient, pectolase and tannin just before going to bed and by Monday morning it was all fermenting nicely

Gooseberry wine fermenting

The wine got one stir each day and I planned to put it in its demijohn on Friday evening. However, by then I had worked until 6:15 and was in a thoroughly bad mood, so I left it until this morning, 17th July.

Gooseberry does take a long time to put into its demijohn, though I had Radio 3's Record Review to keep me company. The wine is going to produce a huge sediment.

The first demijohn of Gooseberry Wine

It did - massive! I racked this on 20th August and I fit in most of 2 pints of water with 4 oz sugar dissolved.

I am making a second batch, this time crushing the berries rather than boiling them and 5 pints of boiling water. I started on Sunday 23rd August and racked it on 25th September. The sediment on this one was slightly smaller, but I put in 36 fluid ounces of water with 2 oz sugar dissolved.

Damson Wine 2020 - The Making Of

Since Lockdown started, I have been working from home. Whilst I thought that I would hate this, it is something that has definite advantages. I miss the camaraderie of office life, but there is a certain freedom in being alone at home with the cats and my own kitchen. To stay fit, I have taken a long walk every morning before work, and on Thursday morning, 20th August, this took me along Broomhill Drive.

Our damson tree - not enough damsons

I noticed several damsons on the pavement and grass verge of this particular street. Many were looking unblemished, so not having a bag with me, I filled my pockets. It is unfortunate that both pockets have holes, so I had to walk the remaining kilometre holding onto my trousers, occasionally feeling a damson roll down my leg. When I regaled Claire with this story that evening, she mentioned that there was a damson tree in Potternewton Park. Friday morning's walk was decided upon.

My disappointing first view of the damson tree

My first sight of the damson tree was disappointing: the fruit was impossibly out-of-reach. But then I looked at the ground: surrounding me were damsons with their blue-purple dusty covering, looking like eggs from an exotic, flightless bird. This time I had a bag and picked up the fruit that was still intact.

Like eggs on the ground

At home I weighed my haul - with those from Broomhill Drive, I had 5 lbs 9 oz, and I only needed 4 lbs of these for a batch of wine. I put the damsons in a bowl, freezing what was surplus, and covered them in water for 10 hours.

Damsons in my bucket

In the evening I mashed the damsons - they are surprisingly yellow inside - covered them in 2 lbs 12 oz sugar and poured over 6½ pints of water. (It turns out that 6 pints would have done.)

Surprisingly yellow

On Saturday morning I added a teaspoon each of yeast, nutrient and pectolase and, in the evening when I read about what I had done in 2018, I added a teaspoon of citric acid. Over the next few days I gave my bucket of liquid a stir, and then put the wine into its demijohn on Wednesday night, 26th August, sieving out the solids. This process (including the sterilising time) took not quite the whole of Mozart's Clarinet Concerto, which was playing on Radio 3 whilst I did this.

Fermenting in my bucket

The wine is lighter than I remember from two years ago, but still a splendid red.

A splendid colour

If you want to see how this wine turned out, click here.

Elderflower, Mint & Rhubarb Wine 2019 - The Making Of...

Weather-wise, June has been a terrible month. The last June that I remember being this wet and cold was the year we got married - 1998. It has been continuous grey skies and hardly a dry day. Whilst some rain is good for the garden, sun would be helpful too. This is all a long winded way of explaining why, for this wine, I was not able to use only rhubarb that we had grown.


 For this recipe I needed 3 lbs of rhubarb and only 1 lb was available. (This year, mostly our rhubarb has been stewed and in porridge.) Happily, Liz and David have a monster rhubarb in their garden and did not object to me stealing many butch stalks on Sunday morning, 16th June.

Liz and David's Monster Rhubarb

The elderflowers mostly came from the elder tree in the Synagogue, overhanging our back fence. This is the first year that I have noticed this, and it is a tree to be encouraged (unlike the enormous sycamore which keeps our garden in shade). However, I needed more so walked up and down Bentcliffe Drive, taking at least one head of elderflowers from each elder that I passed (all four of them). I stripped the flowers from their stalks outside during a rare break from the rain and ended up with about a pint (and a black thumbnail).

The mint came from our garden and was a handful of pepper- and spearmint combined.

In the kitchen I sliced the rhubarb into thin pieces and put it  into the bucket with the elderflowers and the mint, roughly chopped. I poured over 3 lbs sugar and 6.5 pints of boiling water. It is always a good perfume when the boiling water hits these ingredients.

The ingredients before the water hit them

The mix had cooled enough by the evening to add the yeast, pectolase and nutrient (a teaspoon of each). I made intermittent attempts to remember to stir this through the week, until Thursday evening, 20th June, when it all went into its demijohn. This was the usual method: colander first to fish out most the solids, followed by funnel, sieve and jug into the demijohn. My backing track throughout was Cardiff Singer of the Year on Radio 3. The resulting wine is just as pink as the pure rhubarb.

The ingredients after the water had hit them

By racking on 20th July, the wine was still just as pink and had mostly cleared. The taste was promising and it did not need much additional sugar. I added 1 oz, dissolved in half a pint of water.


I bottled this on 7th March and I am just a little disappointed with the end result of this wine. It has not cleared entirely and isn't as splendid as previous years. Claire thinks I have overdone it on the mint.

If you want to see how this flavour came out, click here.

The wine in its demijohn

Fig Wine - Fifth Bottle (6), 11th August 2018

A meal of Lebanese food require a bottle of fig wine. There is something about fig that suggests the Middle East - in look, in colour, in taste. Despite its colour, this is not a red wine: fig does not have the depth for that, but this is not a criticism.

I spent some of the bottle listening to the Proms performance of West Side Story on Radio 3. This is such a good piece of music - I first encountered it in Miss Chancellor's music lessons in 1982 and I still know most the words. I think it is up there with Rite of Spring and Rock Around the Clock as the most important music of the twentieth century. (Discuss.)

The Jets (or maybe The Sharks)

Orange Wine 2015 - The Making Of ...

It is St David's Day, and Radio 3 has mostly been playing things with Bryn Terfel singing. I know this because I have been spending a great deal of time in the kitchen getting sticky.

As with many previous years, the beginning of March coincides with Orange Wine. This year, though, I bought my oranges on the last day of February. Irritatingly, Noshis were selling them at their most expensive - five for a pound. I had hoped for six. This means that I have spent 80p more in getting 24 oranges than I had wanted, and that works out at nearly seven pence a bottle. All I can say is that I hope this orange wine is particularly good.

I was quite proud of this pyramid, but Aggie was disdainful

I started this wine mid-afternoon on 1st March by thinly peeling 12 of the oranges while listening to a Dum-Tee-Dum podcast. It is a dull job, and having something entertaining in the background helps. This year I have been almost entirely successful in avoiding the pith. The peel is in a bowl covered in two pints of boiling water and clingfilm.

Between my eighth and ninth oranges, Anne Hignell dropped in and we had a very pleasant hour and a half catching up with her and getting news of the extended family. I then squeezed all oranges, getting about 3½ pints of juice. This went into the bucket, along with 5½ lbs sugar, 9 pints of cold water, the yeast and a teaspoon each of pectolase and nutrient. The next day, after work, I poured in the water that had been covering the peel and threw the peel away.

Orange peel in water, after 24 hours

Friday would have been the ideal time to put this in its demijohns, but I wouldn't have had time because I was walking home from work and it was Book Group. So I did this on Thursday 5th March. It was quick work, taking about 15 minutes. I could have put in an extra half pint of water and will top up the demijohns when the fermentation has slowed. In the meantime, they are a violent yellow.

If you want a recipe, set out in a more organised fashion than my witterings above, click here

If you want to see how this wine turned out, click here.

Blackcurrant and Red Gooseberry Wine 2013 - The Making Of ...

Eight days ago I opened my first bottle of blackcurrant and red gooseberry wine. It was really rather lovely - full of sharp, fruity flavour that takes the best from each ingredient. Therefore, when presented with a heavy crop of blackcurrants this year, I decided to do it again.

Both Fruits Together

Our blackcurrant bushes are prolific this summer. Even though we are towards the end of the season I still managed to get nearly two pounds of fruit off them today, 10th August, and there are several pounds in the freezer. Between us, Claire and I are planning another batch of wine, several jars of jam, blackcurrant gin, blackcurrant vodka, sorbet and still plenty left over for Christmas Tutti Fruti.

Red Gooseberries - always the bridesmaid and never the bride

The red gooseberries are doing less well, and I blame the sawfly, which I ignored entirely this year. But there were still enough of them for my arms to get thoroughly scratched and to get the 8 oz needed for this recipe.

I started making the wine this evening whilst also cooking tonight's meal - lamb chops marinated in olive oil, garlic, salt, pepper, rosemary and oregano, griddled courgettes, cous-cous and french beans - so had to be careful not to mix the ingredients and processes. I weighed out 2½ lbs blackcurrants (getting some from the freezer) and 8 oz red gooseberries. These were put in the bucket and I mashed them (after pouring over half a pint of boiling water) while heating 5½ pints of water with 3 lbs sugar dissolved.

The ingredients in the bucket before the yeast was added

Once the water had reached boiling point I poured it over the mashed fruit and left it overnight before adding the yeast and a teaspoon each of nutrient and pectolase. I left it for a further four days - till Wednesday 14th August - before sieving out the fruit and putting the liquid into its demijohn. I did this part while listening to Tchaikovsky's Third Symphony on Radio 3. It is not a piece I know at all and, apart from the bombastic and tedious final movement, it is rather good.

The result so far

If you want to see how this wine turned out, click here

Rhubarb Wine 2013 - The Making Of ...

It has been a busy Sunday. Technically Claire and I are still on holiday, having returned from a fabulous week in Gloucestershire only yesterday. However, today - 12th May - has been industrious. I have made bread, done the weekly shop, washed more dishes than is reasonable, practised the impossible fourth movement of Britten's Sea Interludes, started my dandelion wine, bottled 2012's crab apple wine, made onion gravy, dug some of Julia's allotment and still had time to start this year's Rhubarb Wine.

Julia's enormous rhubarb patch

Julia has an enormous rhubarb patch and she encouraged me to take lots. I pulled up several stalks, mostly remembering to grip from the base so that they made a satisfying 'pop' as they came away from the root. This way I got four pounds of rhubarb, and Claire harvested me a further two pounds from our patches at home. I don't think she trusts me not to destroy our plants. There is one stalk from her grandmother's patch and three from Shirley's (which is the pinkest of the lot).

I sliced each stalk thinly and put them all in my bucket. I have covered this with fourteen-and-a-half pints of boiling water and will leave it just over 24 hours.

When I got home from work on Monday evening, 13th May, I added six pounds of sugar, the yeast and two teaspoons of nutrient. Then on Friday I transferred it all into the demijohns, sieving out the rhubarb while listening to Michael Tippet's First Symphony on Radio 3. This was a long, sticky process but has produced a delightful candy-pink liquid. I have not filled the demijohns to the neck as I suspect the fermentation will be violent.

If you want to see how this wine turned out, click here.

Gooseberry Wine - the Making of ...

Julia has been telling me that her gooseberries are ready for picking for some time. But the first evening I have been free was Friday, 24th June. Life has been pretty frantic recently, what with working full time and being in the middle of concert season. But it was important that I did not miss out on Gooseberry Wine this year as it has, at its best, been exquisite in the past. So, Claire and I  turned up to Julia's allotment on Friday evening armed with plastic bags and set to work.

The fruit was thinner on the ground than previous years, but an appropriate amount of crouching and stretching resulted in successs. Julia's bushes are dense and invaded by knot weed. This, apparently, is a suitable nesting place for robins, and Julia disturbed one whilst picking. She was upset about this as robins are nervous creatures, so I avoided this area and picked elsewhere.

My arms still bear the marks of Friday evening's activity, looking like I have been playing with a bad-tempered cat. This is a small price to pay.

I was going to make the wine on Friday evening, 24th June, but we did not finish eating until quarter past nine, so I left it until Sunday 26th June instead. I washed the gooseberries, thought did not bother to top and tail them, and crushed them in the bucket. Most of the six pounds were picked by me, though 4 oz came from Julia and Claire's bag. The gooseberries crushed more easily than in previous years, and therefore were probably riper. I suspect there will be a large deposit.



One pound of gooseberries

I poured six pints of boiling water over the crushed fruit and it sat around in the kitchen for about five hours before I added a teaspoon of pectolase.

On Wednesday night, after a satisfying WYSO rehearsal, I sieved the liquid into a demijohn.  Much of this was the colour and consistency of a stew made up mostly of broadbeans, and so this process took longer than deal and made me irritable. I added the sugar to the (freshly washed and sterilised) bucket - 2lbs and 10 oz of it - and poured the liquid back. After stirring it all up, I put in the yeast (Bordeaux variety) and one teaspoon of nutrient. I put it into its demijohn on the morning of 3 July whilst listening to Rodeo on Radio 3 - an exciting piece of music that WYSO will be playing next term. The wine is an attractive pale green.

Making Elderflower Wine ...

I began making elderflower wine on 5th June, and that is a good two weeks earlier than previous years. Our hottest ever April and the driest spring for a century will have something to do with the elders' early flowering. Also, I could have left making this wine for a week, but I suspect not much longer.

I headed out to the Harewood Estate at shortly past ten - without Claire this year. She wanted to use her time pottering in the garden. As I was alone, I did not immediately trespass into a farmer's field. Instead I walked along a public bridleway, picking what flowers I could. This was all done to a sound track of birdsong and the distant roar of expensive sports cars at some Sunday rally. Every so often I heard the muffled voice of a tannoy announcer reading out timings.

The elderflowers along the bridleway were sparse. I picked about half that needed for a double batch - but there, tempting me in a field to which there was no right of way, were flowering eldertrees in abundance. Of course I hopped over the fence and filled my plastic bag. And, as last year, no irate farmer chased me away.

Back at home it took me about three hours to strip two pints of flowers and again I was grateful for both Radios 3 and 4. I followed the instructions in my Home Farmer article, so covered the flowers with 5 lbs sugar, 13 pints tap-water and 2 litres of grape juice. I added 2 crushed B1 and Campden tablets, about 1 1/2 teaspoons of tannin (thus emptying the container) and a teaspoon of pectolase. I added the yeast and one teaspoon of nutrient 24 hours later. The flowers will be sieved out and the liquid will go into the demijohns on Saturday - Friday would be ideal, but I am out playing quintets in Harrogate that night.

Crab Apple Wine - Bottle D6, 28th & 29th April 2011

I have spent most of today avoiding the Royal Wedding. Though I'm not a Republican, there is only a certain amount of fawning I can stand. Radio 4, at half past eight this morning had Sarah Montague being earnest, discussing what the happy couple might do after their honeymoon. I turned the dial quickly to Radio 3 and did not turn it back until 5:30. Whereupon, Carolyn Quinn was reporting on the hundreds of thousands still lining The Mall. Two stiff gins and finishing this bottle of Crab Apple wine seemed like the only proper solution.

We drank the wine to a meal of bean-burgers, a tomato sauce (not ketchup) and coleslaw with homegrown rocket dressed in a horse-radish oil. Sensibly, I am now on the bush tea and we will not open another bottle tonight.