Tuesday, April 16, 2013

Grandma Elsa's Elderberries

My maternal grandmother Elsa was a tough cookie with a frosty disposition. She was clearly not your typical doting granny; I don't think she ever gave me a hug or even a gift, except some money on birthdays.

From what I've been told, Grandma Elsa was born when there was still a Kaiser in Germany and was brought up in a virtuous household. She went to a strict Catholic school and experienced both world wars: the first one as a child, the second one as a married woman with children. She was a widow as long as I can remember, lived in a wonderfully airy apartment overlooking our small town, smoked like a chimney and had huge bunions, which were always of great fascination to us kids.

Nevertheless, she showed her affection for my sisters and me in other ways, and one of my better memories of her is feeding us delicate elderberry blossom fritters. Elderberry bushes are prolific in the foothills of the Alps where we grew up. Although we were told to stay away from the actual berries because of the freaky fact that they are slightly poisonous, the blooms are a different story altogether. In spring, Grandma Elsa picked their delicate clusters of ivory blossoms with their heady and uniquely fresh and fruity scent. She brushed them carefully to remove small insects and debris and dipped them into a silky and eggy pancake batter. She quickly fried them to fritters light as air and dusted them with powdered sugar. We girls loved munching on them, giggling about the powdered sugar that stuck to our noses.

It's a good thing that the French liqueur St-Germain has brought the subtle fragrance of elderberry blossoms to America. There are tons of cocktails mixed with St-Germain, but I prefer the simple concoction of an elegantly pale gimlet. Sweet-tart lime juice is a great accent to aromatic gin perfumed with a splash of elderberry blossom cordial. It’s very tasty, pleasantly boozy, and makes me instantly think of Grandma Elsa and of springtime in Germany, a grown-up reminder of a childhood memory.

French Gimlet
(I like to call it the Elsa Gimlet)
2 parts Gin
1 part St-Germain and maybe an extra splash for a sweeter version
½ part freshly squeezed lime juice

Pour into ice-filled cocktail shaker and shake well. Strain into a small martini glass and garnish with a lime twist.

She got a bottle of tequila, a bottle of gin, and if I bring a little music I could fit right in.”
- Counting Crows

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