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Cordials
The Brits say: LIQUEUR But we say: CORDIAL
By Nancy Ross Ryan |
![]() Photo by Laurie Proffitt |
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But rather than call the whole thing off, let's rekindle an after-dinner love affair.
Rediscovery almost always happens away from home. I was a long way from home -- in London -- early this year when I made a most remarkable rediscovery: the after-dinner cordial. I was dining at the home of Audrey Ellis, legendary British food writer and author of 65 cookbooks. After the Stilton she served coffee and tiny glasses of Grand Marnier. "Oh," I said, delighted, "Cordials!"
"I beg your pardon," Ms. Ellis said, non-plussed. "But if you would prefer, I certainly could whip you up a cordial."
"No, no," I protested, indicating my glass, and lapsing into an absurd pigeon English, "Cordial. This. How lovely."
"Oh," she said. "You mean liqueur."
"That, too," I agreed.
Gradually we sorted it out: The sweet high-octane after dinner spirits that Americans refer to mainly as cordials, the British refer to only as liqueurs. Cordials, to them, are refreshing, non-alcoholic fruit-based drinks created in the kitchen that may well be the ancestor of today's factory-produced soda pop. Cordials are currently enjoying a comeback in Great Britain and in parts of the world where the British used to live. I have it on good authority that, at this very moment, someone in Singapore is drinking a glass of lemon barley water, a classic British cordial. My authority is Katie Stewart, often dubbed the Julia Child of Great Britain, who is the Entertaining Editor of BBC's Homes & Antiques magazine.
"Cordials are very sweet, because of the sugar content, but they are completely natural and at least you know what's in them," she comments.
"But what about cordials, I mean liqueurs," I asked, remembering with pleasure the concentrated flavors and delicious sweetness of that Grand Marnier I had recently enjoyed. "Why don't people serve them anymore?"
Stewart's theory is that "Liqueurs were traditionally served at the end of a formal meal, after the dessert. But today's dining has changed. We've moved away from formal entertaining to informal supper parties, lunch even brunch. The host or hostess often feels 'on trial' at a formal dinner party. And liqueurs came to be associated with formal dinner parties."
"What a shame, " I ventured. Stewart agreed. "There is nothing quite like a good after-dinner liqueur. I like to sip mine with coffee. And, you know, everyone has a favorite."
In the course of discovering some of my favorites, I realized there are some fine and some very mundane liqueurs. And the same flavor and style (sambuca and amaretto for example) differ in finesse from brand to brand. But the number and variety of excellent liqueurs, aka cordials, is enough to hold my interest in this necessarily leisure pursuit for years to come. Among some of my favorites: Benedictine D.O.M., Brandy and Benedictine (B&B), and Chartreuse Green from France, Drambuie from Scotland, Frangelico and several brands of Sambuca from Italy, Cherry Heering from Denmark. Two rival brands of coffee-infused liqueur -- Tia Maria and Kaluha -- are both wonderful to my tastebuds. And Trimbach Liqueur de Framboise is a heavenly experience for anyone who loves raspberries.
Since rediscovering cordials, I have reinstituted a culinary practice that, to purists, will be a faux pas. But my guests have never had cause to complain: I serve fine cordials drizzled over premium vanilla ice cream. With coffee, of course. And, sometimes I bring out a selection of cordials on a tray and offer guests the chance to sauce their own. How informal can you get?
A Cordial by Any Other Name
Cordials are:
Serve cordials at room temperature after dinner in tiny glasses, 1 to 1-1/2-oz. pours.
Cordial and coffee is a match made in heaven.
Good Medicine
Genuine British Cordials |
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Makes about 1 liter (approx. 34 ounces)
100g (approx. 3-1/2 oz. by weight, or approx. 1/2 cup by volume) pearl barley Measure the barley into a small bowl. Scald the barley by pouring boiling water over to cover. Stir and st rain, discarding the water. Turn the barley into a non-reactive saucepan. Add 1 litre (approx. 34 ounces) of cold water and the pared rind of 2 of the lemons (use a vegetable peeler). Bring to the boil, then lower the heat to a simmer. Cover the pan and cook very gently for 1 hour. When ready, the barley will be plum and soft. Strain, this time reserving the liquid and discarding the barley and lemon rind. You should have a generous 600 ml (about 20 ounces) of liquid. While hot, add the sugar and stir to dissolve. Cool, add the squeezed juice from all 4 lemons. Pour into a sterilized glass jar, cover and refrigerate for up to 2 weeks.
To serve: Stir before serving. (Lemon barley water tends to be cloudy and settle.) Pour into glasses with a few ice cubes. |
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Makes 25-30 glasses 1 teaspoon black peppercorns, crushed 4 to 6 limes 900g (2 pounds) granulated sugar Cut the fresh ginger into wafer thin slices; there is no need to peel. Put sliced ginger, crushed peppercorns and 600ml (approx. 2-1/2 cups) of water into a non-reactive saucepan. Bring slowly to a boil. Meanwhile, pare the rind from the limes and drop rind into a mixing bowl. Add sugar. Pour the hot ginger-peppercorn infusion over the lime rind-sugar mixture and stir until the sugar has dissolved. Let rest until completely cooled. Strain to remove ginger, pared lime rind and peppercorns. Save liquid; discard solids. Squeeze juice from limes. Add to reserved liquid. Pour into sterilized bottles. Cap and refrigerate for up to 2 weeks.
To serve: Fill a tumbler 1/3 full with cordial and top with still or sparkling mineral water, ice cubes and garnish with a slice of lime. |
LIQUID ASSETS - September 1999