Peter Davies and Mark Scherzer are the owners of Turkana Farms in Germantown, NY. This week Peter writes: While last week Mark discussed the pains of farming in a dry season, I am going to describe one of its rare pleasures, a wet one at that, as Turkana Farms starts preparing its annual stash of cassis. Of course, “cassis” is French for black currant. But the cassis I am referring to is the famous rich liqueur of Burgundy, made from the juice of the black currant—more correctly it is black currant juice infused with eau de vie or a neutral 80 proof vodka. We, of course, have to buy the vodka, but the process of making cassis, nevertheless, comes as close to moon shining as Turkana Farms comes. Right now, our black currants are ripe, very ripe; the bushes have done their job and are begging to be picked. While this year’s berries are at the height of their readiness, they are not nearly as plump and juicy as last year’s, the bounty of an incredibly rainy spring and early summer. While the dryness we are experiencing this year has negatively affected the size of this year’s berries, on the positive side, the blazing sun has certainly intensified their flavor. While black currants are making a comeback in American cuisine and viniculture, they were until very recently literally a forbidden fruit. In 1911 the logging industry, believing that black currant bushes acted as a host for blister rust, a disease that attacks white pines, succeeded in seeing that a Federal ban on growing the bush (and importing the berry) was put into place.
We didn’t realize when we lined our back driveway with black currant bushes in Sag Harbor almost twenty years ago and then planted even more when we moved to Turkana Farms, that we were actually in violation of the law. While the Federal ban had been withdrawn in 1966, it was not till 2003 that New York State finally lifted its ban. At present, the ban on black currants still holds in Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New Jersey, North and South Carolina, and Virginia. Interestingly, fifty years ago, before the Federal ban went into effect, New York State was the primary producer of currants in the nation. There are hopes that it can become so again. As a result of its half-century enforced absence from American agriculture, the taste of black currant is not a familiar one these days in most American households. This is definitely not the case in Europe. Not only, of course, in the Province of Burgundy, but as Mark’s father attests, in Austria and Germany, as well. As someone who grew up in Vienna, he often longs for the taste of what he calls “Johannes berry” (schwarze Johannisbeere), a very popular and expensive black currant juice drink he remembers from his youth. In Italy, the black currant is Ribes neri; in Spain Grosellas negras. The black currant has a distinctive, strong, rich, almost musty flavor. It has been described by some as having a good deal of “pucker power,” by others, as “earthy and decadent.” Trendy restaurants in New York City are presently experimenting with black currants in sauces as accompaniments to meat and fish dishes. As to its food value, black currants have four times more vitamin C than oranges and twice the antioxidants of blueberries. My first experience of black currants was as a grade schooler in Illinois. An elderly Dutch couple living a few doors away had surrounded their house with currant bushes, and I was called on each July well into high school to come and pick them so Mrs. Cazimir could make jam. I must say, they were not tempting to eat as you picked, in the way that, for instance, raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries are. It was not until our Sag Harbor days that I became hooked on the delicious jam and jelly black currants make. It was seven or eight years ago, when our bushes at Turkana Farms began producing, that Mark and I found our way serendipitously to the pleasure of cassis and kir (cassis mixed with white wine).
If currants have a future as an important crop once again in New York State, it will be to a good degree to the credit of a couple of farmers. Greg Quinn, a fruit grower in Northern Dutchess County, persuaded New York State to lift the currant ban. Immediately thereafter, in 2004, Curt Rhodes, a long time vegetable grower, of Penn Yan, obtained a state grant to plant a trial one acre field of black currants, which he quickly expanded to seventeen acres. His first harvest in 2006 was sold to Montezuma Winery in Seneca Falls, N.Y., which now produces not cassis but something called “black currant apple wine”. Turkana Farms’ involvement is characteristically more modest, aimed chiefly at supplying our personal needs for cassis, jam and jelly, as well as black, red and white currants for our friends and customers-- to do with them what they wish.. Rather than acres of them, we have a driveway and long walkway lined with black, red, and white currant bushes, which are actually quite decorative in their own right. We take our recipe for cassis from The Cook and the Gardener: A Year of Recipes and Writings from the French Countryside, by Amanda Hesser. She apparently collected the recipe from a near neighbor she refers to as “Madame Milbert," while living in a tiny French village. What follow is her simple recipe, producing approximately two quart mason jars of cassis. Part I: Sterilize two quart mason jars. Enough black currants (don’t worry about the stems) to fill the jars (3-4 cups per jar) leaving a ½ inch space at the top of each jar Eau de vie or vodka (the alcohol content should be 80 proof) to cover (3-3 ½ cups per jar) Seal the jar and store for 4 to 6 months. Part II: Bring the fruit and alcohol mixture to a boil in a saucepan. Strain the juice, crushing the fruit with the back of a large spoon to extract the maximum of juice. Keep the juice free of pulp and stems. Measure the amount of juice you obtain and measure out an equal amount of sugar and alcohol. As for instance, for every cup of cassis juice, one cup of sugar and one cup of alcohol. Combine them in a saucepan, bring to a boil, and cook until the sugar has completely dissolved and the mixture turns thick and syrupy, coating the back of a spoon. About 10 minutes. As the mixture cooks and the sugar dissolves the liquid turns glossy; near its perfect stage it drips from the spoon in a thin, syrupy thread. But do not bring it to a jelly stage. Remember that as it cools it will thicken slightly. Pour through a funnel into sterilized bottles. Allow it to cool and seal with corks. Your personal vintage of cassis is ready to be enjoyed, or stored in your liquor cabinet. We label ours “Maison Turkana”. —Peter DaviesFor the complete archive of past AgriCulture blogs, click here.
