The Bride
posted on her own blog, last fall, three recipes for walnut liqueur. It just so happens, we have friends with a huge walnut tree shading the back yard, and they offered us a step-ladder and welcome to as many walnuts as I could carry away (and come back and get more! Please! They drop from the tree, staining laundry on the line below it, attracting squirrels, and destroying tender plants. Not to mention, the dropping walnuts make a picnic in the backyard a chicken-little experience).
So, a couple of days ago, Girl-child and I picked 110 green (unripe) walnuts, more or less (she still occasionally leaves out 14 and 28, and sometimes gets confused at the transition from one decade to the next). We mailed about 30 to the Bride, and pulled out about 40 for me, and the rest will be used by our brother to make walnut oil for use in making his own paints.

Tonight, the children and I pulverized 18 walnuts for
Vin de Noix, the recipe from the San Francisco Chronicle by Georgeanne Brennan (see The Bride's blog for details). The recipe calls for 35 green walnuts and
7 bottles of red wine! We don't need that much, so I halved the amounts. I had intended to use entirely local ingredients, to keep the
terroire, but accidentally bought a California plonk, ur, I mean, wine, for the
vin rouge. I don't think it will destroy the flavors. The photo shows the wine, some of the unpulverized walnuts and the pulverized walnuts soaking in the wine (for 40 days in a cool, dark place). On the first day of the children's school, I will strain and fortify it with sweetened vodka, and then bottle it and set it aside until we're ready to drink it.

Another 25 walnuts were more neatly cut into quarters, and then mixed with sugar, vodka, lemon zest, cloves and a cinnamon stick. It's so pretty! This is for an Italian version of the same liqueur, Nocino. No wine here, just the hard stuff (made in Oregon, too!). This bottle is supposed to sit in the sun, not in a cool, dark
chat-bouton, for 60 days, at which point I will strain and decant it. This should be ready at the autumn equinox.
I'm eager to taste both of these. The walnuts have an unusual tart scent; the cutting board is stained yellow-green, but my fingers, from handling the pieces, are stained a beautiful dark brown, getting darker over the last hour. I would never have guessed that walnut stain comes from the green walnuts, not the ripe ones.
1 comment:
In Collioure we saw big carboys filled with a dark liquor, sitting in the sun as part of the manufacturing process of something. I thought the guide said Banyuls, but he was speaking French, so I'm not absolutely sure.
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