Bad-tempered hens and the dregs of the Pimm's

IF one had to catch the very essence of a peaceful summer day in the Highlands, then it would be about the flag irises at their very best in the boggy part of the front field, the gentle cooing of wood pigeons in the old oak up above, and all five hens lying sleeping in the dappled sunlight.

The night before we had had a few friends in – and because it was summer, and because it was the year of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee, we had mixed a large jug of that most British of drinks, Pimm’s.

Pimm’s, an alcoholic fruit cup traditionally mixed with lemonade, is very much the refreshment of choice and style at events like Wimbledon and Ascot. Quaffing it rapidly leads to the distant strains of Rule Britannia and an imaginary straw boater appearing on your head.

As Ricard, "le vrai pastis de Marseille", is to the French, tankards of lager are to the Germans, so Pimm’s is to the British.

Thus I take care mixing this most delicious, and imperial, of drinks – and my care starts with buying it as cheaply as possible (because it can be quite pricey) and here I recommend keeping an eye on Lidl.

It seems strange that a German company should offer the best deal from time to time, but, hi ho, aren’t the German towels and deckchairs all over the European beach now? I mean, ask the Greeks.

At £10.00 a bottle I have never seen better, but the snag is that Lidl only has it now and again. My advice is, if you see it there, buy it. If not, then it is best to shop around other supermarkets. Do not buy the first bottle that you see.

There is a Pimm’s lookalike on the market called Jeeves which sells at under six pounds a bottle, but it is not as strong (17.5% as opposed to 25%) and tastes a bit like what I imagine the bottom of the weeds bucket must taste like after one of these extraordinary downpours that we are experiencing right now.

I have tried experimenting with it, but I find that it only works if it is added to real Pimm’s, which slightly defeats the object of the exercise.

Actually it possible to fake Pimm’s – and here, if you can be bothered, is a recipe that works fairly well. It is two parts dry gin, two parts of red vermouth and one part of orange curaçao or Cointreau. The only trouble is that, while it is miles better than Jeeves, it is still only 85% of the real Pimm’s flavour (and made out of full strength gin, vermouth and orange liqueur, it is pretty lethal, guaranteed to have your grandmother singing lustily while lying in the flowerbed).

The Pimm’s (however you have come by it) is poured into the largest jug that you can find until it is about a fifth full. I then mix in a large handful of torn up fresh mint leaves, and this should be done at least an hour before you intend to start drinking. This way the vital mint flavour comes out of the broken leaves and into the drink itself.

Next, but only shortly before the guests arrive, I add thinly sliced cucumber and chopped apple or pear. If this is added too early it becomes slightly un-fresh, slightly on its way to being compost, before the first glass is raised.

The other thing you can do is lay out your tumblers and place the cucumber and fruit in each glass before your start pouring. For special effect a sliced strawberry, a blueberry or even an ordinary bramble can look and taste really good. Really any fruit (save a pineapple or a banana) can work in Pimm’s. Pretty well it is a matter of what you have in the fruit bowl. Preparation done, as the party begins you add the lemonade to the rest of the jug, tip in the ice cubes, and pour.

Two closing thoughts.

Pimm’s was invented by a farmer’s son from Kent. In the 1820s Mr Pimm set up an oyster bar near the Bank of England and his ‘No 1 Cup’ made with gin and "a secret herb recipe" for bankers with digestive problems rapidly became famous. Whether it made Mr Pimm his fortune, or indeed what ultimately became of him, I have no idea. Today the drink is made by the worldwide drinks giant Diageo.

On the subject of cucumbers, I always enjoyed the words of Dr Samuel Johnson, the 18th century man of letters and writer of the famous dictionary.

"It has been a common saying of physicians in England, that a cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing". Of course this was said well before the invention of Pimm’s.

"Dearest, where did you put the left over fruit and veg at the bottom of the jug?" I asked on the afternoon of the next day.

"I put it in the hens bucket…"

The following day they were surprisingly bad-tempered. Only two eggs.