Spring has settled in long enough in
these parts for my favorite weed to have made an appearance. No, not that one.
I mean the dandelion. (What lawn monoculture enthusiast first declared it a
weed anyway?) Not only are they pretty, but – more importantly – they are
tasty. All parts of the plant can be eaten, most commonly raw in mixed salads,
though I’m told the roots are better boiled. I’ve never collected enough roots
at one time to bother boiling them, so I’ll pass that opinion along without
personally confirming it. Beware of chemical contamination of course. I never use fertilizers, pesticides or weed killers on my lawn, so this is not an issue in my yard.
Both sets of my grandparents made
dandelion wine, but by the 1970s when I was old enough to drink it they had
retired from recreational fermentation. I have all of their winemaking
equipment stored in my barn, but I’ve never tried to make wine of any kind
myself. Fortunately, up through the 1990s I had friends and coworkers whose
families did have an old vintner in the mix, so I was gifted with a bottle of
dandelion wine every few years until the current century. I guess the old relatives
died off by 2000. Plenty of people still made (and make) it of course, but they
were not among the gifting/regifting circle of my friends and coworkers by
then, so my free supplies dried up. What does it taste like?
Unsurprisingly, the bottles I’ve sampled varied a lot, but at bottom each was
more similar to mead (which is fermented from honey) than to other white wines,
though not as sweet as that comparison makes it sound. All tasted more
alcoholic than they possibly could have been. Alcohol kills yeast and thereby
shuts down fermentation at about 13% ABV. (You need to use distillation to
increase alcohol content over this.) So, the apparent extra kick has to come
from other aspects of the dandelion. Most online recipes for dandelion
wine are pretty similar. The biggest differences are in the amount of straining
and aging. One site urges re-filtering, rebottling, and then aging for two
years. I don’t think any of the home winemakers who ever supplied me directly
or indirectly did that. Most sites suggest letting it age in the bottle for two
months, which sounds more probable, though it is possible I received some bottles
on the very day they were corked. These recipe ingredients are pretty
typical: 3 liters dandelion flowers – just
the petals; any green bits will add bitterness 500 grams of raisins – preferably
golden, but any will do 4.5 liters of water Yeast – either bread or wine yeast;
these packets are readily available 1.2 kg of sugar Zest of orange Some recipes add a bit of this or
that – or fiddle with the fermentation with yeast nutrient and acid blend – but
doing that or not is up to you. Put the petals in a nonreactive fermenting container
(e.g. glass or ceramic rather than aluminum or iron), pour in boiling sugar
water, add the other ingredients, and lid the fermenter. You can buy
specialized fermenting equipment and valves or just use glass bottles or jugs capped
with balloons – pinpricking the balloons will allow excess gases to escape while
still preventing outside air from entering the bottle. I suggest consulting one
of the many online recipe sites for the precise steps and probable fermentation
times. Since I mentioned distillation, can
that be done to dandelion wine to make moonshine? Yes. I’ve heard of it but
never have tried it. But if you prefer hard spirits, there is nothing
preventing this step, though the result should taste more like brandy than
whiskey. I’ll leave all this fermenting and
distilling to others more ambitious than I. For now, I’ll just snatch some
flowers and mix them into my Caesar salad. I’m not averse to uncorking a bottle
this summer, however, if one is sent my way.
I was cleaning out the upstairs room and ran across an old email my brother had sent me. He said he had listened to Prairie Home Companion and the poet, Billy Collins, was on it and read some of his poetry, which he enjoyed listening to. The poem he sent was titled, Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun in the House. I think he identified with that poem because he had a neighbor behind him, whose dog, if it was outside, never stopped barking. It was a very annoying situation for him (and probably the other neighbors). I'm guessing the title refers to: If I had a gun in the house, I might feel inclined to shoot the dog (though the poem veers into another direction somewhat witty). Something I'm sure my brother thought about often. But yeah, I think that's the type poetry that appeals to me as well. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/billy-collins
I’m guessing this was intended for the previous post, though dandelion wine can make one poetical. Like whiskey, coffee, and steak, the “right” way to have poetry is the way you like it.
I was cleaning out the upstairs room and ran across an old email my brother had sent me. He said he had listened to Prairie Home Companion and the poet, Billy Collins, was on it and read some of his poetry, which he enjoyed listening to. The poem he sent was titled, Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun in the House. I think he identified with that poem because he had a neighbor behind him, whose dog, if it was outside, never stopped barking. It was a very annoying situation for him (and probably the other neighbors). I'm guessing the title refers to: If I had a gun in the house, I might feel inclined to shoot the dog (though the poem veers into another direction somewhat witty). Something I'm sure my brother thought about often. But yeah, I think that's the type poetry that appeals to me as well. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/billy-collins
ReplyDeleteI’m guessing this was intended for the previous post, though dandelion wine can make one poetical. Like whiskey, coffee, and steak, the “right” way to have poetry is the way you like it.
DeleteYes, it was. I guess I hit the wrong button and I didn't even have any dandelion wine.
ReplyDelete