For a few short weeks between late May and mid June, Britain's hedgerows turn creamy white and start to smell faintly of summer. Elder is one of our most generous wild shrubs, and its flowers make a cordial that costs you little more than a morning's walk and a bag of sugar. Nothing you buy in a supermarket comes close to the fresh, musky-sweet perfume of the homemade version — and the whole process, from picking to bottling, is simple enough to fit around a normal week.
Timing is everything. In the south west you may be picking in the last days of May; in the north and in Scotland, it can be well into late June before the heads are ready. Watch your local hedges rather than the calendar, and be ready to go when they open.
Go out on a dry morning, ideally after two or three dry days. Mid-morning is perfect: the dew has lifted, the scent is at its strongest, and the insects have had their breakfast and moved on. Wet flowers dilute the flavour and can turn mouldy in the pan, so if it has rained, wait.
Look for flat, plate-like heads of tiny creamy-white flowers, fully open and dusted with pale pollen. Avoid heads that are still tight with green buds, which give a duller, greener flavour, and avoid anything with brown florets, grey mould or a drooping, tired look. Elder is a shrub or small tree with opposite, pinnate leaves and corky, greyish bark. Crush a leaf and you will get the same faintly catty smell that runs through the whole plant. Only the flowers are used — the leaves, bark, stems and raw berries are all toxic, so never be tempted to experiment.
This makes roughly 1.5 litres of cordial, enough for several weeks of long drinks.
Citric acid is sold in home-brew shops, most chemists and the baking aisle of larger supermarkets. It sharpens the flavour and helps the cordial keep. If you cannot find any, use the juice of a third lemon instead and store the finished cordial in the fridge, where it will last weeks rather than months.
Shake each head gently over the sink to dislodge insects. Do not wash the flowers — you will rinse away the pollen and much of the perfume. Trim off the thick green stalks, which are bitter, leaving the flowers and only the finest stems.
Warm the water and sugar in a large pan over a low heat, stirring until the sugar has completely dissolved. You want it steaming, not boiling hard. Take it off the heat and let it cool to lukewarm, then pour it over the flowers. Add the lemon zest, lemon juice and citric acid, give everything a good stir, cover with a clean cloth and leave it for 24 hours. In a cool kitchen it will happily sit for 48, but no longer, or the flavour turns flat and slightly cabbagey.
Line a sieve with a double layer of muslin and set it over a large jug or bowl. Ladle the mixture through and let it drain — do not squeeze the muslin, or the cordial will be cloudy and bitter. Strain it a second time if you want it glass-clear, then funnel it into sterilised bottles: swing-top glass is lovely, screw caps are practical, and plastic bottles are best if you plan to freeze some. Leave a couple of centimetres of headspace in plastic to allow for expansion.
Dilute one part cordial with five parts still or sparkling water, poured over plenty of ice with a slice of lemon and a sprig of mint. It is equally good lengthened with gin or prosecco, drizzled over strawberries and yoghurt, stirred into a gooseberry fool, or frozen into lollies for hot afternoons.
Kept in the fridge, the cordial will be at its best for two to three months, and it freezes well for up to a year. Once a bottle is opened, aim to finish it within three or four weeks. A little sediment is harmless, but discard any bottle that fizzes unexpectedly, turns cloudy or grows a film of mould on the surface.
Once you have made it a few times, start playing. Lime in place of lemon gives a sharper edge, a thumb of ginger or a few mint leaves added to the warm syrup ring the changes, and a stick of rhubarb steeped alongside the flowers makes a pink, gently tart variation. Elderflower champagne is the natural next step, but that is a fizzier adventure for another day.
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