Our big Super Bowl weekend began on Friday night, a full 48 hours before kickoff, when Betsy started making her "Game Day" chili.
On Saturday morning, the preparation continued in earnest as our daughter cranked out a batch of cookies and Betsy got cracking on her secret chicken wing marinade. I spent the afternoon filling out the wood pile, sneaking back to the kitchen every hour to see what new tailgating treat was underway: a warm artichoke dip, fresh bread, an apple pie…
On Sunday, I awoke early and headed off to ski, promising to be back by mid-afternoon to help put the finishing touches on our football feast. I arrived a few minutes late to find the girls already eating the chili. When I pointed out that the game wouldn't start for another three hours, Betsy grinned and said what she says every year: "We couldn't wait."
Truth is, the actual game is fairly irrelevant to our enjoyment of this particular sports holiday—even less relevant when the Patriots aren't involved. The focus in our home, as I'm sure it is in many other homes, is on food. So when I made it clear that no more eating would be tolerated until a half hour before the game, we couldn't come up with a better way to kill time than to get back in the kitchen to see if we might concoct another delicacy for our Super Bowl party.
Betsy, who is always looking for interesting, locally grown foodstuffs to try, had recently come across a bottle of black currant cordial from Bug Hill Berry and Flower Farm in Ashfield. The nonalcoholic elixir wasn't, as I assumed, sweet like syrup, but was tart and extremely flavorful. First, as recommended on the bottle, we diluted it four to one with sparkling water and enjoyed a refreshing drink. Using the same ratio, I then tried it with white wine to make a Kir, which was delicious.
A little online research yielded a vast wealth of information about and recipes including black currant cordial. Turns out, the black currant, long valued as a rich source of vitamins and anti-oxidants, is big in Europe, and used to be very popular in the United States until the beginning of the last century, when it was made unlawful to grow currants due to their potential threat to the logging industry (the currant plant was apparently a carrier of a disease that afflicted pine trees).
In the UK, currant cordial is mixed with cider (the Black and Cider) or beer. In Russia, it's used to flavor tea or vodka. In the United States, where it's making a comeback, it's used in an increasing number food products and in a wide variety of cocktails. The online bartending site drinksmixer.com lists more than a dozen drinks made with black currant cordial, with names like "Dirty Bong H20" (with coconut rum, spiced rum, Blue Curacao, sour mix and Seven-Up), "Midland Mayham" (with vodka, white wine and beer) and the nonalcoholic "Loopy Juice" (with Red Bull energy drink and cola).
Having already enjoyed some chili, the girls had the desire for some pre-game dessert. The apple pie and cookies could wait. Out came the vanilla ice cream and hot fudge, which Betsy topped with the cordial. I tried a spoonful and had to fight the temptation to load up a bowl for myself—the chili and chicken wings be damned.
By half time, we were all uncomfortably full and beginning to doze off, with enough food left over to last the rest of the week. As we cleaned the kitchen, we reviewed the menu, our daughter demanding that we rank our favorite dishes. I put the chicken wings at the top of my list, but I hadn't had the Black Currant Cordial Super Bowl Sundae, which my wife and daughter picked without hesitation.
As they headed off to sleep, I stayed up to see the rest of the big game. Usually I give some thought to the next year's Super Bowl feast, when we'll again eat a lot and barely pay attention to the actual game. On this occasion, I couldn't think of anything past my next morning's breakfast of vanilla yogurt, honey and black currant cordial, or what is now known as the Black Currant Cordial Super Bowl Breakfast Sundae.
