The Joy of Home-made: Liqueurs

Not everything home made is always best. I remember my Dad's first attempt at Cider, and the impressively rustic Autumn day we spent pressing the beasts and then transferring the juice to barrels for fermentation. What came out on that attempt was a fairly rancid and acidic gruel that even this 16 year old turned his nose up at. My Dad, being a man of staunch principles when it comes to the importance of efficiency, proceeded to drink the stuff for the rest of the winter.

One of the things I love about Poland and that is common in 'Eastern Europe' (a phrase I place in quotation marks because it didn't exist before WW2 and is now even less reflective of Europe today) is home made liqueurs and vodkas. Under Communism rationing meant limited access to booze and therefore home-made alcohol was a way to get drunk and/or celebrate and relax in the safety of family and friends rather than in the more public setting of the Great British Pub.

Before I came out to Poland I popped to Slovenia and met a fascinatingly shady character who had been a soldier and then a former presidential bodyguard and his dark sagging eyes and faraway look suggested to me that he might be involved in a deal or two. He described in loving detail the process of making a peach liqueur (not sliwowitz, as in a brandy, I think) by allowing a peach to grow inside the bottle before removing it from the branch. When the bottle's empty it's smashed and the peach is eaten. What a drink!

Every autumn the Mother in Law's friends start giving out small bottles of their finest homemade liqueurs and vodkas. Here are four examples Orzech, which I didn't try but I  think means nut, Wisnia, cherry, Jagoda, berry, in this case blackberry and finally Morela, apricot.

Significantly better than their commercial cousins, these were delicious, well made, not too sweet and not too sour, nor too alcoholic. Just right. A reflection of the care and experience that goes into making them.

There's something about pouring out a measure into a shot glass and sitting around a table with family and friends who have known each other for decades, laughing,  singing and arguing, that fills the heart with warmth.