Introduction
The idea of compiling this little volume occurred to me while on a visit to some friends at their summer home in a quaint New England village. The little town had once been a thriving seaport, but now consisted of hardly more than a dozen old-fashioned Colonial houses facing each other along one broad, well-kept street. A few blind lanes led to less pretentious homes; and still farther back farmhouses dotted the landscape and broke the dead line of the horizon.
For peace, contentment, and quiet serenity of life, this little village might have been Arcadia; the surrounding country, the land of Beulah.
The ladies of the Great Houses, as the villagers called the few Colonial mansions, were invariably spinsters or widows of uncertain years, the last descendants of a long line of sea captains and prosperous mariners, to whom the heritage of these old homes, rich with their time-honored furnishings and curios, served to keep warm the cockles of kindly hearts, which extended to the stranger that traditional hospitality which makes the whole world kin.
The social customs of this Adamless Eden were precise and formal. As with the dear ladies of Cranford, a call was a very serious affair, given and received with great gravity, and had its time limit set with strict punctuality. Cake and wine were invariably served as a preliminary warning toward early departure. Here came in my first acquaintance with many varieties of home-made wines, over whose wealth of color and delicacy of flavor my eyes and palate longed to linger.
Vulgar curiosity made me bold to inquire the names of a few; imagine my astonishment when graciously told that the gay dandelion, the modest daisy, the blushing currant, had one and all contributed their nectar to the joy of the occasion. Flattered by my interest, my gentle hostess broke strict rules of etiquette and invited me to linger, showing me rare old gardens aglow with flowers, fruits, and vegetables that in due time would contribute to their store, and at parting various time-worn recipes were urged upon me, with verbal instructions and injunctions upon the best methods of putting them to test.
From this beginning I ferreted out from other sources recipes for many curious concoctions, the very name of which fills the mind with fantasies and pictures of the long ago. Do we not feel poignant sympathy for the grief of the poor Widow of Malabar, whose flow of tears has descended in spirit, through three centuries, to those still faithful to her memory? Did we ever pause to consider what a slaughter of the innocents went to make famous many an old English tavern whose Sign of the Cock made the weary traveller pause and draw rein, and call loudly for the stirrup cup of this home-brewed ale? Can we not feel the ponderous presence, and smell the strong tobacco from the pipes of groups of stolid Dutchmen, of the days of Wouter Van Twiller, when we read of that one-time favorite beverage, Schiedam Schnapps? Again, are we not back in that dull, but delightful, society of the days of Colonel Newcome, when a quiet game of bezique was interrupted by the tidy servant who brought in the refreshing Orgeat and delicate seed cakes? Have not our own grandmothers boasted of the delicious flavor of old English Cowslip wine or Noyean Cordial?
I have confined myself exclusively to home-made beverages, gathering my fruits and flowers from old-fashioned, homely gardens. I leave to your imagination the times, fashions, and customs they recall. The aroma that clings to them is subtle. Age has blended and mellowed all that was crude in those bygone days.
With a gentle hand I tie my little bunch together and present you my bouquet.
The best method of making these wines is to boil the ingredients, and ferment with yeast. Boiling makes the wine more soft and mellow. Some, however, mix the juice, or juice and fruit, with sugar and water unboiled, and leave the ingredients to ferment spontaneously. Your fruit should always be prime, and gathered dry, and picked clean from stalks, etc. The lees of wine are valuable for distillation, or making vinegar. When wine is put in the cask the fermentation will be renewed. Clear away the yeast as it rises, and fill up with wine, for which purpose a small quantity should be reserved. If brandy is to be added, it must be when the fermentation has nearly subsided, that is, when no more yeast is thrown up at the bung-hole, and when the hissing noise is not very perceptible; then mix a quart of brandy with a pound of honey, pour into the cask, and paste stiff brown paper over the bung-hole. Allow no hole for a vent peg, lest it should once be forgotten, and the whole cask of wine be spoiled. If the wine wants vent it will be sure to burst the paper; if not the paper will sufficiently exclude the air. Once a week or so it may be looked to; if the paper is burst, renew it, and continue to do so until it remains clear and dry.
A great difference of opinion prevails as to racking the wine, or suffering it to remain on the lees. Those who adopt the former plan do it at the end of six months; draw off the wine perfectly clear, and put it into a fresh cask, in which it is to remain six months, and then be bottled. If this plan is adopted, it may be better, instead of putting the brandy and honey in the first cask, to put it in that in which the wine is to be racked; but on the whole, it is, perhaps, preferable to leave the wine a year in the first cask, and then bottle it at once.
All British wines improve in the cask more than in the bottle. Have very nice clear and dry bottles; do not fill them too high. Good soft corks, made supple by soaking in a little of the wine; press them in, but do not knock. Keep the bottles lying in sawdust. This plan will apply equally well to raspberries, cherries, mulberries, and all kinds of ripe summer fruits.