Absinthe-Minded Sangria
Ingredients
- 1/2 oz absinthe — try Port Chilkoot Distillery Green Siren
- 4 oz brandy or cognac
- A handful of low-bush cranberries
- Half each of a lemon a lime, and an orange or tangerine
- 1 750 ml bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon Syrah or Zinfandel
- 2 cups sweetened cranberry juice recipe follows
- 12 oz sparkling lemonade–try San Pellegrino*
- 2 droppers-full Free Pour Jenny’s Absinthe-Minded Bitters**
- *Substitute 2 oz freshly squeezed lemon juice 1 Tbsp sugar and 11 oz soda water.
- **If you don’t have any Absinthe-Minded Bitters left in the larder increase the absinthe to 1 oz.
Instructions
- Cut citrus fruit halves into quarters and slice each quarter into thin triangles. Place citrus and cranberries in a 2-litre jar or a large bowl.
- Add absinthe, red wine, cranberry juice and bitters. Stir, cover, and chill for several hours.
- Just before serving, split the ingredients between two pitchers or two 1-litre Mason jars (wonderfully transportable for potluck gatherings) and add half the sparkling lemonade.
- Serve over ice in big red wine glasses or 250 ml Mason jars.
Notes
Homemade Cranberry Juice
Ingredients
- 1 cup low-bush cranberries — no need to thaw if frozen
- 2 cups water
- 1/4 cup sugar
Instructions
- Combine cranberries and 1 cup of water in a blender and process until the cranberries are reduced to a puree.
- Place a strainer over a bowl or a 4-cup measuring cup.
- Pour the mixture into the strainer, pressing the pulp with a spoon. Pour the remaining cup of water into the strainer and press the pulp again, until all of the juice is extracted. Save any remaining pulp for adding to muffins or smoothies.
- Add sugar to the cranberry juice and whisk until it’s fully dissolved.
- Pour into a 1-litre jar, cover and refrigerate. Shake before serving. Will keep for up to one month, but you will drink it long before that.
Notes
In the cold and windy days of late May and early June, there was a memorable moment of heat and sunshine
It was the afternoon of June 3. Our household had just returned from a paddle on Atlin Lake.
On the lake, we had played it safe every day, waking up at 6 a.m. and paddling for two hours before breakfast, stopping for a break and then paddling again to camp, making sure we were off the lake by 2 p.m. at the latest. That’s when the wind tends to come up on Atlin Lake, at least in normal years.
This year, though, seemed especially windy. On June 1, we were camped at First Narrows, at the start of the Torres Channel. We had paddled there in a fierce headwind that came up at 10 in the morning, just after our breakfast break. The waves weren’t high, but the wind was strong, and we had to paddle hard to get to camp.
In the Torres Channel, the whitecaps sparkled. We watched them from camp against the breathtaking backdrop of Coliseum and Cathedral mountains. It was a scene of spectacular beauty, and we were really glad to be seeing it from shore.
The wind howled all night long. I stayed awake listening, thinking we were never going to get back onto the lake in the morning. Our companion woke us up at 6:20.
“The waves have gone down, there are no whitecaps. There is wind, but it’s just a riffle on the water. I think we should go.”
We packed up quickly and had a beautiful paddle down the channel, pushed by gentle wind and waves, the entire 20 kilometres to our next campsite.
Next morning we played it safe again, on the lake by 6:15 for our last paddle from Torres Channel across the open water to the town of Atlin. We were all nervous about the crossing. We rounded the final corner of the channel into the open water, and it looked good; a bit of wind, some waves, but no whitecaps.
That quickly changed, as it does on Atlin Lake.
The wind strengthened, the waves got higher, and soon we were in it, past the last little island where we could’ve pulled over, committed. We stayed close to each other, but not too close, because a collision would’ve been a disaster.
We turned the noses of our kayaks into the waves to cut them at an angle, pointed towards the shore about 5 kilometres south of Atlin. The waves grew to 3 feet or more, with peaks and troughs. There was no room for panic, we had to trust our boats and keep paddling.
At last, after a 90-minute struggle, we were inside the relative shelter of the long headland of Five Mile Point. The wind and waves subsided enough that we could turn our kayaks towards Atlin and cruise slowly and carefully into town with the wind at our backs.
After high fives on the beach, we celebrated with a generous breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast and home fries at the Mountain Shack café.
Home again in Whitehorse, in that brief, balmy afternoon of June 3, there was sun on the deck, the swallows darted above, and it seemed appropriate to just sit, savouring the sunshine and enjoying sips of Absinthe-Minded Sangria, the drink of summer.
The post-mortem, when we’d talk about the crossing, about when we should have decided together, whether to go on or turn back, would come later. For now, we enjoyed just being.
