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The Last Great Glut of the Year

By the middle of September, most of us have eaten our fill of blackberries straight from the bramble and the freezer drawer is groaning. Then the damsons arrive, and once the first sharp frost has passed, the rosehips hang scarlet along every lane. This is the moment when another batch of jam starts to feel like a chore — and where a bottle of drinking vinegar quietly earns its place on the pantry shelf.

Shrubs, as these fruit vinegars are usually known, are old-fashioned, forgiving and wonderfully undemanding. They need no setting point, no pectin and no sterilising marathon. They simply capture the sharpness of autumn in a form you can pour.

What a Shrub Actually Is

A shrub is fruit, sugar and vinegar left to infuse until the three become something greater than their parts. The classic ratio is easy enough to keep in your head: equal parts fruit, sugar and vinegar. In practical terms, that means 500g of prepared fruit, 500g of sugar and 500ml of vinegar. Scale up or down as your basket dictates, but keep the proportions steady.

There are two routes. The cold method — layering fruit and sugar, leaving it to draw syrup, then adding vinegar — gives the freshest, most perfumed result and suits soft fruit. The warm method, where you gently heat the vinegar before pouring it over, speeds everything along and extracts more from firm fruit such as hips and haws. Neither is difficult, and both reward patience.

Choosing Your Vinegar and Sugar

What you pour in matters as much as what you pick. Cider vinegar is the workhorse of the hedgerow larder: fruity, mellow and cheap enough to use by the litre. White wine vinegar is sharper and more delicate, and is the better partner for rosehips, where you want the colour and perfume to sing. Red wine vinegar makes a bold, wine-dark damson shrub that is superb in a dressing.

Malt vinegar, for all its virtues on chips, is too aggressive for drinking. Keep it for pickling onions.

On the sweet side, caster sugar dissolves quickest and lets the fruit speak. Light muscovado adds a caramel note that flatters damsons and sloes enormously. Honey works well too, though it brings its own flavour and needs a little more stirring to incorporate.

Three Fruits Worth the Walk

• Blackberries. The easiest starting point. Use 500g of fruit to 500g of sugar and 500ml of cider vinegar, and go for the cold method. Blackberries carry a lot of seed, so strain through muslin twice and resist the urge to squeeze the bag hard — you will only push through sediment.
• Damsons. Prick each fruit with a pin, or better still freeze them first and let the thaw split the skins. A damson shrub takes three to four weeks to come into its own and tastes of late October: dark, almondy and faintly bitter in the most pleasing way.
• Rosehips. Pick after the first frost, when they have softened and sweetened. Top and tail them, crush lightly with the back of a knife, and cover with white wine vinegar and sugar in equal measure. Steep for six weeks, then strain through muslin. The result is sharp, bright and extraordinarily high in vitamin C.

Forage sensibly, as any country cook will tell you. Avoid verges that may have been sprayed, never pick below waist height beside a busy path, and always leave plenty behind — the fieldfares and redwings depend on those hips far more than your pantry does. And do ask before helping yourself from land that clearly belongs to someone.

Infusing, Straining and Timing

Cold infusions want a cool, dark cupboard and a daily shake for the first week. Blackberries are ready in two to three weeks; damsons and hips want nearer four to six. Taste as you go — when the vinegar no longer tastes raw and the fruit has given up its perfume, it is done.

Strain through a double layer of muslin set in a sieve over a jug, and leave it to drip overnight rather than forcing it through. A second straining after a few days will remove the fine sediment that otherwise clouds the bottle.

Bottling, Storing and Drinking

Decant into sterilised bottles with swing tops or tight screw caps, filling them almost to the brim to limit contact with air. Label with the fruit and the date. Kept in a cool, dark place, a shrub will hold its character for a year; once opened, keep it in the fridge.

To drink, dilute one part shrub with four parts chilled sparkling water, tonic or lemonade. A spoonful stirred into a glass of dry cider is a fine thing on a frosty evening, and a splash whisked into olive oil and mustard makes a dressing that will see off any salad. Come February, when the hedgerows are bare and grey, you will be very glad of it.