All About Elderberries

Elderberries

Sambucus spp.
Adoxaceae family
Throughout the U.S. and Canada

Elderberry shrubs offer both yin and yang, producing two beloved and distinct ingredients. Elderflowers have a flavor as delicate and dainty as their appearance; elderberries are powerfully purple and, when paired generously with sugar, taste rich and forceful. Harvesting the flowers will diminish the potential crop of berries you’ll get later in the summer, but if you are lucky you’ll spot enough elderberry shrubs or trees that supply won’t be an issue.

Supply is an issue for me; elderberries do grow wild on my favorite stomping grounds, but not in numbers sufficient to make use of them. I enjoy seeing the flowers in the spring and monitoring the progress of the tiny berries as they ripen and create enough weight to cause their red stems to droop.

You can find a palette of native elderberries growing in North America; American black elderberry (S. canadensis) is native to North America and grows in the East. Red elderberry (S. racemosa) is notably disagreeable eaten raw, and though Native Americans of the Pacific Northwest used it in food preparations, it’s generally not preferred by today’s elderberry lovers—most sources say they are toxic. Blue elderberry (S. cerulea) grows in western and central states, all the way up to Canada and all the way down to Mexico. Its berries are covered in a powdery bloom. S. nigra, the European or common elderberry, is often what gardeners will plant for harvesting.

From Pacific to Atlantic, there are few regions without a variety of elderberry. They are not terribly picky about where they grow: partial shade, full sun, in forests. They often grow close to streams and creeks. I found a shrub growing in the drainage ditch between the parking lot and the road at my local grocery store, adjacent to some cattails. Since harvesting it in a spot that likely had a lot of questionable road runoff seemed a bad idea, I just appreciated it from afar.

Before the berries come the elderflowers: small, creamy white, and in broad clusters that can be wider than the span of your hand. Lightly sweetened elderflower cordials and liqueurs taste of spring and new sunlight. A classic wild foods preparation is to dip the entire flower cluster in pancake batter and then griddle it to make elderflower pancakes. (Frying flowers coated in a tempuralike batter to make lacy fritters is another version.)

These pale, feathery delights could not be more different in personality than elderberries. As they mature, the fruits become dark and mysterious and brooding. Elderberries are not grazing berries. They taste flat and uncompelling to many when eaten raw. You can sample one or two just to see for yourself, but it’s not advisable; raw elderberries are disagreeable to digestion, so don’t eat too many. In fact, all parts of the plant, save the flowers and berries, are mildly toxic.

Elderberries are some of the littlest berries. Beady and nearly black when ripe, they remind me of the eyes of dead mice caught in a sprung trap. In contrast to producing such small berries, the plants themselves can be big—bona fide trees, in some cases. S. nigra can reach up to 20 feet (6 m).

The light but pliable stems are easily hollowed out. Elderberry branches were used to make spiles for harvesting the sap of sugar maple trees. Those handy branches account for the plant’s scientific name: Sambucus. A sambuca or sambuke was a primitive woodwind made of an elder branch or stem. Fans of spirits may be curious about the Italian anise liqueur Sambuca and its place in all this. Sambuca contains elderflower, among other aromatics, and also owes its name to the elder. One theory speculates the common name derives from the Anglo-Saxon word aeld, which means “fire”; the hollow branches were useful for blowing air, like a mini bellows.

Elderberry juice can give cranberry juice a run for the money in its ability to stave off urinary tract infections. Its best-known medicinal use is to battle colds and flus, as either a treatment or a preventive.

Harvesting and Storage

Harvest the ripe berries in the late summer or early fall when they are dark purple (or blue and powdery, if it’s blue elderberries in your neck of the woods). Wait until all of the berries on the clusters are ripe at once. Just cut off the entire cluster and pop it into a grocery sack to deal with once you get home.

Getting the berries off the stems is the part that may challenge your patience. There are a few approaches. One is to strip them from the heads using forks. Another is to freeze the clusters in bags overnight, then drop the bag onto the floor to jostle the frozen berries free. Before preparing the berries, submerge them in cool water and let any bits of stem float to the top so you can easily pick them out (remember, the stems are mildly toxic, so be thorough).

Elderberries start to break down soon after you pick them. Account for that before you even harvest them; you’ll want to process them within 48 hours. Refrigerate or freeze the picked berries as soon as you can. If freezing them, be sure to rid them of debris first—once thawed, the juice from the berries will make spotting any stray bits of stem difficult.

Elderberries dry well, but if you use a dehydrator they may fall right through your racks. Put them on screens. You can try spreading them out and letting them dry passively, too. The dried berries are often used to make syrups.

If you are a new plant watcher eager to observe your neighborhood elder and snatch up its flowers in the spring, be especially careful with your identification. Elderflowers have a few look-alikes that you don’t want to mess with, such as water hemlock (poisonous!) and red osier dogwood.

Culinary Possibilities

Elderberries are a raw material awaiting your creativity for transformation. Remember, you’ll need to cook or ferment the berries for them to be safe to eat in any significant quantity. That points you to homemade wines and brews in one direction and baked goods, syrups, and preserves in another.

Before you get too far, it’s good to know that of all the inky-dark berries, elderberry juice has a singular propensity to spatter on counters, clothing, and cupboards, leaving blotchy stains. Also, as they cook, elderberries on their own smell of scorched hot cocoa: not particularly alluring, I know, but not rank, either. I also think they taste and smell much better when combined with other ingredients.

Elderberries have an old-fashioned vibe to them, and I enjoy using them accordingly.

Makes about 1 quart (960 ml)

Cordials are heavily sweetened fruit syrups once sipped for their medicinal value. Cordials do not always contain alcohol, but some of them do. A certain type of bookish girl will recall cordial from a scene in L. M. Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables in which young Anne mistakenly gets her best friend Diana tipsy by serving her currant wine instead of raspberry cordial.

This cordial is free from tipple, and thus safe to serve to elderberry fans and best friends of any age. The procedure below is more of a template, so feel free to add a few cloves or use all lemons instead of lemons and oranges. I think elderberries need a little more help in the flavor department than other berries, but don’t go overboard like you’re making an Elderberry Spice Latte. This method of making the elderberry juice is from forager Hank Shaw, who says it results in a larger yield than simply boiling and straining the berries.

In olden times people took small glasses of elderberry cordial daily as a preventive for colds and flus. Doing so today certainly beats taking Emergen-C! If you are drinking it for pleasure and not as a tonic, try mixing it with fizzy water, sweetening hot tea with it, or drizzling it over ice cream.

5 1⁄2 cups (910 g) elderberries
2 cups (400 g) granulated sugar

1⁄4 cup (60 ml) honey

One 3-inch (7.5 cm) cinnamon stick
Zest and juice of 1⁄2 orange

Zest and juice of 1 lemon

Carefully sort through the elderberries, and remove as many stems as possible. Put them in a large bowl, and cover with water. Discard any little bits that rise to the top.

Drain the elderberries, and put them in a large nonreactive saucepan. Add just enough water to cover. Pulse them a few times with an immersion blender on low (you want to break up the skins somewhat, but not any seeds); alternatively, mash them a little with a potato masher. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer and cook 20 minutes.

Strain the mixture through a conical food mill and use the pestle to extract as much liquid as you can from the solids. Or pour the mixture through a jelly bag, letting it drain for about an hour and then squeezing with your hands to extract as much juice as possible.

Makes 1 half-pint jar (240 ml)

Who’s up for making purple Worcestershire sauce? Heck yeah! Pontack is a quaint elderberry-based British condiment used on rich meats like game or pork, but you can add it to other recipes as you would Worcestershire. Folk wisdom advises not to use it until it’s sat for 7 years. I love food projects that last longer than most relationships, especially when the vast majority of the investment is passive storage. Besides, you can crack open your pontack after as little as 3 months, if you must. If you were lucky enough to have a gangbusters elderberry harvest, scale this up.

2 2⁄3 cups (440 g) elderberries

2 cups (480 ml) apple cider vinegar
2 large or 3 small shallots, peeled and sliced
One 3-inch (7.5 cm) piece fresh ginger, smashed a bit with the at side of a knife

4 oil-packed anchovies, patted dry, optional

1 teaspoon whole cloves
1⁄2 teaspoon mace

1⁄2 teaspoon nutmeg

1 tablespoon black peppercorns
5 allspice berries

1⁄4–1⁄2 teaspoon kosher salt

Preheat the oven to 250°F (120°C). Rinse and stem the berries. This will take a while. Put on one of your favorite records, and drink something refreshing and enjoy it. Place the berries and vinegar in a deep, ovenproof glass, ceramic, or enamel casserole. Stick it in the oven for 4 to 6 hours, or overnight. This will make your house reek, by the way.

Remove the mixture from the oven, and strain through a sieve—or better yet, a conical food mill—crushing the berries with a pestle or your hands to extract as much juice as possible.

Put the strained liquid in a medium nonreactive saucepan, along with the remaining ingredients. If you added anchovies, use 1/4-teaspoon salt; if not, use 1⁄2 teaspoon. Bring to a simmer, and cook for 20 to 25 minutes, until slightly reduced. Remove from the heat, and strain through a cheesecloth-lined sieve. Discard the solids.

Return the liquid to the pan. Bring to a boil, and keep at a boil for 5 minutes. It should be slightly syrupy, but not particularly thick. Pour the sauce into a warm, sterilized glass bottle or jar, and seal. Label and date, and store in a cool, dark cupboard for at least 3 months before using. Let me know if you make it to 7 years.

NOTE: This stuff produces incredibly pungent fumes as it cooks. I made it one day when my daughter had a friend over to play, and they dramatically donned clothespins on their noses. If the weather is nice, make it outside: If you have a slow cooker, rig it up on a covered porch and use that to steep the berries in the vinegar. This will help maintain your popularity with any cohabitants, plus keep your house cooler.

This excerpt is adapted from Sara Bir’s book The Fruit Forager’s Companion: Ferments, Desserts, Main Dishes, and More from Your Neighborhood and Beyond (Chelsea Green 2018) and is printed with permission from the publisher.