Two hedgerow berries worth the walk

By the time the last leaves are off the hedges, most foragers have packed up for the year. That is a shame, because two of the most useful fruits in the countryside are sitting there in plain view: sloes, blue-black and dusty, and haws, glossy and brick-red. Both make rich, deeply coloured syrups that earn their shelf space. Drizzled over porridge, stirred into hot water as a cordial, splashed into a glass of something warming, they carry a bit of the hedgerow right through to spring.

The catch is that the two berries grow in the same hedge, often tangled together, and they want quite different treatment. Learn to tell them apart with confidence and the rest is straightforward.

Telling blackthorn from hawthorn

Sloes belong to blackthorn, haws to hawthorn. Both are thorny, both are common in field boundaries, and both ripen from late September into November. Look at the fruit, the thorns and the leaves together rather than relying on colour alone.

• Sloes are round, roughly the size of a small cherry, with a distinct greyish bloom that rubs off under your thumb. They sit singly or in twos, tight against the twig. The skin is tough and the flesh is mouth-puckeringly astringent — one bite will dry your whole mouth.
• Haws are usually smaller, oval or round, and a brighter red, with a tiny dark dot at the tip. They hang in clusters of three or more on short spurs. The flesh is dry and mealy, faintly sweet and slightly apple-like.
• Thorns: blackthorn spines are long, straight and genuinely vicious, and the twigs often end in a sharp point. Hawthorn thorns are shorter and set along the twig.
• Leaves: by fruit time, blackthorn is often bare or nearly so. Hawthorn still carries its small, deeply lobed leaves, which turn bronze and gold around the berries.
• Stones: a sloe holds one pointed stone, almond-shaped. A haw usually holds a single hard seed that rattles.

If you find a larger, plum-like fruit that is sweet enough to eat raw, you have found a bullace or wild plum, not a sloe — enjoy it, but it makes a different syrup. And do not confuse haws with rosehips, which are orange-scarlet, shiny and crowned with the dried sepals, or with rowan berries, which hang in flat-topped bunches among feathery leaves.

Frost, freezing and that mouth-furring tannin

Sloes are harsh for a reason: tannins. Frost helps. When the temperature drops, ice crystals rupture the cell walls inside the fruit, the flesh softens and much of the astringency fades into something rounder and more wine-like. Traditional advice to wait for the first frost is sound, but it is not a rule you have to obey.

If the frosts have not arrived, pick your sloes and put them in the freezer for two or three days. The effect is very close to the same thing, and it saves fighting the weather. Haws soften and sweeten with frost too, though they need it less; a cold snap takes the last of the chalkiness out of them.

Pick from clean hedges away from busy roads and above the height of a passing dog. Take a modest share and leave plenty — haws in particular are winter larder for redwings and fieldfares.

Making sloe syrup

Rinse a kilo of sloes, discarding stalks and any bruised fruit. There is no need to prick them one by one; freezing has already done the work of breaking them down. Tip them into a pan with about a litre of water and bring to a gentle simmer for twenty to thirty minutes, pressing them against the side of the pan with a wooden spoon as they soften.

Do not crush the stones. The kernels inside are bitter and best left intact, so keep the pressing gentle. When the fruit has collapsed and the liquid is deep purple and syrupy, take it off the heat.

Strain through a scalded jelly bag or a double layer of muslin over a large bowl, and leave it to drip overnight. Resist squeezing the bag, however tempting — squeezing pushes through starch and fine pulp, and your beautiful clear syrup turns cloudy and slightly harsh.

Measure the juice, then allow 400g to 500g of sugar per 500ml, depending on how sweet you like it. Warm gently until the sugar dissolves completely, add a squeeze of lemon to sharpen the flavour, and bottle hot into sterilised bottles. A clove, a strip of orange peel or a small piece of cinnamon added during the warming stage makes a lovely variation for winter drinks.

Making haw syrup

Haws are gentler and quicker. Use the same method, but simmer for only fifteen to twenty minutes and use slightly less water to begin with, as haws give up less juice. Expect roughly 500ml of juice from a kilo of berries.

The flavour is softer and more floral than sloe, with a faint apple note, so keep the additions light. A little lemon is essential to lift it; a sprig of rosemary or a few bruised juniper berries works beautifully if you want something to glaze game or duck. Sweeten at about 400g per 500ml and bottle in the same way.

Straining, bottling and keeping

Work cleanly and your syrups will keep for a year in a cool, dark cupboard. Sterilise bottles in a low oven or with boiling water, fill them while the syrup is hot, and seal immediately. Label with the fruit and the date — in six months, dark red syrup in an unlabelled bottle is a guessing game.

Once opened, keep in the fridge and use within a couple of months. Check for any fizzing, mould or off smell before use. If you would rather not risk it, freeze the syrup in small tubs and thaw as needed.

A spoonful of either syrup in hot water makes a fine drink on a raw afternoon, and both are excellent over ice cream, stirred into yoghurt, or brushed over a roast. Make a batch of each and you will find the walk back down the lane in November rather more appealing next year.