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Blackberry & Pink Peppercorn Cassis: Because Blackberry Bushes Have Ideas Too

inmykitchenwithyou
21 hours ago
3 min read


Now, I know that technically, there is no such thing as blackberry cassis ...


Cassis is traditionally made from blackcurrants, and I am perfectly aware that blackberries are not blackcurrants. But I rather like the romance of it. Blackberry liqueur sounds like a perfectly sensible name for Blackberry Vodka, but Blackberry Cassis sounds darker somehow. A little more mysterious. Like something you might find in an old Somerset kitchen, written in faded ink in the back of a recipe book ... And sometimes a recipe doesn't need permission to exist, so I decided to make this recipe my own and name it Blackberry & Pink Peppercorn Cassis



Dark berry drink in a bottle and martini glass on a wooden tray with blackberries, mint, and herbs before a purple door


For the love of Blackberry Season


There is something about a blackberry bush that makes it very difficult for me to walk past. I can be walking along a Somerset country lane, minding my own business, when I spot those first fat, glossy blackberries hanging amongst the brambles and suddenly my brain starts throwing recipe ideas at me ... Blackberries become puddings. Blackberries become cocktails. Blackberries become chutneys and cakes and syrups ... And apparently, blackberries become cassis.


This version is deliberately simple: ripe blackberries, vodka, a little sugar and a few lightly crushed pink peppercorns. The peppercorns aren't there to make it taste peppery. They simply bring a gentle warmth and lift to the blackberry, adding a little depth behind all that glorious fruit.


Then we leave it alone for six weeks. Which, as it turns out, is quite a long time for life to completely change around a jar sitting quietly on a kitchen shelf.




Blackberry & Pink Peppercorn Cassis - The Recipe


You will need

  • 500g ripe blackberries

  • 250g caster sugar

  • 700ml vodka

  • A few lightly crushed pink peppercorns



Method

Add the blackberries, caster sugar, vodka and lightly crushed pink peppercorns to a large sterilised jar. Seal and give it a good shake to encourage the sugar to begin dissolving.


Leave somewhere cool and dark for 6 weeks, giving the jar a gentle shake from time to time.


After six weeks, strain the cassis through a fine sieve. If you'd like it beautifully clear, strain it again through muslin. Don't squeeze the fruit too aggressively. We want all that gorgeous blackberry liquid, but not too much sediment.


Now taste it. This is where I like to let the cassis decide what it needs. If it needs a little more sweetness, take a small amount of the strained liquid and warm it gently in a saucepan. Add 35–45g caster sugar, depending on how sweet you'd like the finished cassis to be, and stir until completely dissolved. Allow it to cool slightly, then stir it back into the remaining strained cassis.


Bottle and leave to mellow.




Jo's Kitchen Notes


Don't be tempted to over-sweeten it at the beginning.


The blackberries have six weeks to give up all their gorgeous flavour, and I found it much easier to judge the sweetness once the cassis had been strained. Start with the lower end of the additional sugar — 35g — taste, and decide whether it needs the full 45g.


And those pink peppercorns? Don't panic. We're not making pepper vodka. 😂 They add just a tiny bit of warmth and complexity behind the blackberry.


And please don't throw away the boozy blackberries after straining.


They're packed with flavour and vodka and are far too interesting to waste. I would throw these in a pan, sweeten with more caster sugar, then as the berries soften in the het, crush them with fork in the pan. Cook until thickened. Spoon them over ice cream, fold them through a dessert, turn them into something involving chocolate... or put them back in the freezer while you stand there thinking about what on earth you're going to do with them.

I speak from experience.


This is one of those recipes where the blackberry gets to be the star. You just need to give it six weeks to get there. And perhaps that is why I like calling it Blackberry Cassis. It sounds as though it has been around forever. Perhaps, somewhere, it has. Or perhaps it was just invented in my kitchen ... I'm happy with either explanation.



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