Grandma Smith’s Blackcurrant Cordial

Grandma to me, was Mormor (mother’s mother), as my mum was to my daughters. I chose to translate it to grandma, rather than granny – as Granny Smith is as we all know, a delicious apple – and I’m talking blackcurrants. And if I’m not making any sense, blame the new medication. I am!

The Smith name is from a Scottish forefather, way back in the distant past – the only non-Viking blood in my family until my generation – when me and my brother mixed it up real good with our respective spouses. But I digress.

I didn’t know what a convenience meal was when I was growing up in the 50s and 60s in Norway. My mother considered being a housewife her career, and she was very good at it. I think my sister takes after her, but alas, not me. I’m afraid I would rather write a short story than wield a duster, ponder over a haiku than wash the floor – but I’m getting just a little bit more domesticated of late – at least as far as cooking is concerned. Needs must!

We never had shop bought squash/juice. My mother made cordials, and I recently found some of the recipes she sent me. This is the cordial I remember best. My grandmother’s original recipe.

Grandma Smith’s Blackcurrant Cordial

2 litres blackcurrants
1 litre water
375 g sugar per litre strained blackcurrant juice.

Simmer blackcurrants and water for half an hour, squashing the berries to release the juices. I use a potato masher and give it the occasional mash as it boils.
Strain through a sieve or muslin - I used a fine nylon sieve – and leave to run off for a couple of hours before measuring the resulting liquid. Don’t try to push the juice through. You want a nice, clear juice. Add sugar, then boil for ten minutes before ladling into sterilised bottles, using a funnel. Cap at once. Let bottles cool before storing in a cool place. My mother’s cellar was ideal – and bloomin’ scary. I got a larder cupboard doing the same job, if not quite as cold.

Tip: do not listen to know-it-all men (sorry – but there were three of them telling me!) who reckon the bottles will blow if bottled hot. This is a cordial, not wine. It’s more likely to ferment if not capped while hot.



Did you know… that what we call currants, were named so by mistake? They were actually just a small raisin, imported into the US from Corinth, and the Greek writing for Corinth was mistakenly translated into Currant at the port. This was supposedly in the 1920s, and as the real currant, the blackcurrant, had been banned from being grown for many years, the name stuck.

Tip: I remember the days when my mother was making blackcurrant cordial very well. It was a tedious job topping and tailing all those berries. But – good news - if you’re making cordial today, you don’t need to. Just pick them, give them a rinse and they’re ready. If freezing, make sure they’re dry first. If you don’t like the debris floating on top as it comes to the boil, just skim off the loose stuff with a spoon. Hours worth of work saved. Time for a bit more writing.

Blackcurrants are very beneficial to our health. I’ve promised myself a glass a day as long as it lasts, for its anti-inflammatory properties alone. Besides that, they are very rich in vitamin C, as well as containing potassium, phosphorus, iron and vitamin B5.

It has also been demonstrated that the fruit has properties which might just help inhibit the root cause of heart disease, cancer and some infections, as well as neurological disorders like for instance Alzheimer’s. A good enough reason to enjoy some cordial with my water.

Fact: During the WW2 blackcurrants became the main source of vitamin C for British children, and from 1942 onwards almost all of the blackcurrant crops were made into blackcurrant syrup or cordial. This was what we know as Ribena, then produced by the Carter company, and was distributed free of charge to the country’s children.