Crème de Cassis - Black Currant Liqueur

I was introduced to the kir royale at an engagement party in Washington, DC nearly 25 years ago. As a liquor lightweight who favors sweet drinks—I'm one of the few people who actually enjoys the Manischewitz at Passover—it was love at first sip. Made with champagne and crème de cassis, it's bubbly, cold, just a little bit sweet and tart at the same time, and a gorgeous jewel-like color. Unlike Manischewitz, this drink is très chic—the kind of cocktail one enjoys while sitting and watching the gliteratti at a café on the French Riviera.

After that one intoxicating experience, I forgot all about crème de cassis until a few summers ago when faced with a black currant bush that was experiencing unexpected off-the-charts productivity. 

My dear green-thumbed friend, Jen, had given me a wee scion of her black currant bush at some point pre-COVID and I'd planted the little twig in an empty spot left by a red currant bush that had finally died after a few sickly years next to a small champagne currant bush that was growing sloooowly and rarely produced much in the way of berries. My expectations were low.

However, after just a few years of utter neglect, the little sprig had grown into a large shrub roughly 20 times its original size that was literally covered in small black fruits and muscling its way into the blueberry bushes' territory.

Black currants (ribes nigrum) are high in antioxidants and packed with vitamin C. They also contain something called anthocyanins which, combined with the antioxidants, apparently give your immune system a boost. And they're high in an omega-6 fatty acid called gamma-linoleic acid. This is all wonderful. But there is a catch...

If you've ever tried black currants off the bush, you already know this is not a fruit you necessarily want to eat raw—they're verrrry tart.

Since eating them out of hand was not an appealing option, and I had already made more currant jelly than we could eat in a lifetime, I turned to the internet for inspiration and was delighted to rediscover crème de cassis a.k.a. black currant liqueur. 

My husband and I set out with buckets to strip the bush of its little dark purple fruits.

It took a while as there were so many and I'd also not planned for the bush's rapid growth when I chose to plant it next to the fence, making it hard to reach the back of it. But after about half an hour, we had buckets full of glossy black currants.

They're very pretty but rather pungent. Their smell reminds me of cat piss—not something you'd want to dab behind your ears.

We plunked them down on the picnic table and separated the currants from the stems and bits of leaves and insects. 

Then I brought them inside and washed them in several changes of water to remove any dust, dirt, dead leaves, and bugs.

After that, I muddled them a little bit with the sugar using my potato masher. 

Then I scooped the mixture into the mason jar, added the vodka, closed the caps, shook them up well, rinsed the jar off, and set the jar in a shaded area of the pantry. 

Then I waited for several months, periodically shaking the jars to mix everything up again every couple of days or weeks (I forgot sometimes). Over time, all the currants dropped down to the bottoms of the jars and the sugar completely dissolved.

Come October, I scoured the interwebs to find nice glass jars with lids to decant the liqueur into. After falling down a research rabbit hole, I eventually ordered 12 of these 8.5 oz Bormiolo Rocco swing-top glass bottles because I liked their shape and they seemed about the right size. 

When the bottles arrived, I rinsed them out, dried them and prepared to decant the finished crème de cassis. The process was simple and rather sticky: I strained out the solids, then poured the gorgeous dark-purple liqueur into my pretty glass bottles, closed them up, gave the outsides a quick rinse to remove any sticky drips, dried them off, and set them on a shelf in the pantry to give as holiday gifts to family and friends.

Black Currant Liqueur - Crème de Cassis

Ingredients

• 2 cups black currants, rinsed, leaves and stems removed
• 3 cups vodka
• 1 cup sugar

Instructions

1. Place the black currants, vodka, and sugar into a large glass jar that seals (like a mason jar). Place the lid on the jar and close tightly. Shake well to combine all of the ingredients.
2. Store the jar(s) in a cool, dark place like a basement, lower cabinet, or shaded shelf in the pantry.
3. For 3 months, shake the jar every few days (or as you remember).
4. After 3 months, strain the solids out of the mixture and pour the gorgeous purple liquid into a clean sealable bottle. If you like, you can allow the liqueur to mature for 2 more months for optimal taste - perfect timing for holiday gifts to friends and family.

Kir and Kir Royale Recipe

Pour 1/2 ounce crème de cassis into a wine glass and top with 5-6 ounces of chilled white wine and stir gently to combine to make a kir. Use chilled champagne in place of white whine to make a kir royale. Adjust the amounts to taste. Serve immediately. Santé!

You might also like:

Linden Blossom Syrup

Strawberry Mint Lemonade

Lemon Balm Simple Syrup

Crème de Cassis - Black Currant Liqueur

I was introduced to the kir royale at an engagement party in Washington, DC nearly 25 years ago. As a liquor lightweight who favors sweet drinks—I'm one of the few people who actually enjoys the Manischewitz at Passover—it was love at first sip. Made with champagne and crème de cassis, it's bubbly, cold, just a little bit sweet and tart at the same time, and a gorgeous jewel-like color. Unlike Manischewitz, this drink is très chic—the kind of cocktail one enjoys while sitting and watching the gliteratti at a café on the French Riviera.

After that one intoxicating experience, I forgot all about crème de cassis until a few summers ago when faced with a black currant bush that was experiencing unexpected off-the-charts productivity. 

My dear green-thumbed friend, Jen, had given me a wee scion of her black currant bush at some point pre-COVID and I'd planted the little twig in an empty spot left by a red currant bush that had finally died after a few sickly years next to a small champagne currant bush that was growing sloooowly and rarely produced much in the way of berries. My expectations were low.

However, after just a few years of utter neglect, the little sprig had grown into a large shrub roughly 20 times its original size that was literally covered in small black fruits and muscling its way into the blueberry bushes' territory.

Black currants (ribes nigrum) are high in antioxidants and packed with vitamin C. They also contain something called anthocyanins which, combined with the antioxidants, apparently give your immune system a boost. And they're high in an omega-6 fatty acid called gamma-linoleic acid. This is all wonderful. But there is a catch...

If you've ever tried black currants off the bush, you already know this is not a fruit you necessarily want to eat raw—they're verrrry tart.

Since eating them out of hand was not an appealing option, and I had already made more currant jelly than we could eat in a lifetime, I turned to the internet for inspiration and was delighted to rediscover crème de cassis a.k.a. black currant liqueur. 

My husband and I set out with buckets to strip the bush of its little dark purple fruits.

It took a while as there were so many and I'd also not planned for the bush's rapid growth when I chose to plant it next to the fence, making it hard to reach the back of it. But after about half an hour, we had buckets full of glossy black currants.

They're very pretty but rather pungent. Their smell reminds me of cat piss—not something you'd want to dab behind your ears.

We plunked them down on the picnic table and separated the currants from the stems and bits of leaves and insects. 

Then I brought them inside and washed them in several changes of water to remove any dust, dirt, dead leaves, and bugs.

After that, I muddled them a little bit with the sugar using my potato masher. 

Then I scooped the mixture into the mason jar, added the vodka, closed the caps, shook them up well, rinsed the jar off, and set the jar in a shaded area of the pantry. 

Then I waited for several months, periodically shaking the jars to mix everything up again every couple of days or weeks (I forgot sometimes). Over time, all the currants dropped down to the bottoms of the jars and the sugar completely dissolved.

Come October, I scoured the interwebs to find nice glass jars with lids to decant the liqueur into. After falling down a research rabbit hole, I eventually ordered 12 of these 8.5 oz Bormiolo Rocco swing-top glass bottles because I liked their shape and they seemed about the right size. 

When the bottles arrived, I rinsed them out, dried them and prepared to decant the finished crème de cassis. The process was simple and rather sticky: I strained out the solids, then poured the gorgeous dark-purple liqueur into my pretty glass bottles, closed them up, gave the outsides a quick rinse to remove any sticky drips, dried them off, and set them on a shelf in the pantry to give as holiday gifts to family and friends.

Black Currant Liqueur - Crème de Cassis

Ingredients

• 2 cups black currants, rinsed, leaves and stems removed
• 3 cups vodka
• 1 cup sugar

Instructions

1. Place the black currants, vodka, and sugar into a large glass jar that seals (like a mason jar). Place the lid on the jar and close tightly. Shake well to combine all of the ingredients.
2. Store the jar(s) in a cool, dark place like a basement, lower cabinet, or shaded shelf in the pantry.
3. For 3 months, shake the jar every few days (or as you remember).
4. After 3 months, strain the solids out of the mixture and pour the gorgeous purple liquid into a clean sealable bottle. If you like, you can allow the liqueur to mature for 2 more months for optimal taste - perfect timing for holiday gifts to friends and family.

Kir and Kir Royale Recipe

Pour 1/2 ounce crème de cassis into a wine glass and top with 5-6 ounces of chilled white wine and stir gently to combine to make a kir. Use chilled champagne in place of white whine to make a kir royale. Adjust the amounts to taste. Serve immediately. Santé!

You might also like:

Linden Blossom Syrup

Strawberry Mint Lemonade

Lemon Balm Simple Syrup